Supernatural Wars: A New Faith, Chp.4/?
Title: Supernatural Wars: A New Faith, Chapter Four
By:Wynna Pendragon
Rating:PG-13
Pairing:Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: All spoilers for Star Wars, and Supernatural
Warnings: Star Wars fusion.
Summary: Hunted by the Host’s most menacing agents, Prince Castiel races home aboard his starship, guardian of the secret plans that could not only save his charges, but the entire galaxy…
Feedback: Is appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Star Wars, or the characters and concepts within.
Author's Notes: All thanks goes to kitty_alex. Links to the previous chapters are here.
Chapter Four
Dean idly thought, as he ran down the hallway after the troopers, that if it was anyone other than his brother watching his back at that very moment, he would be dead. Of course, it helped that he took the focus off of his brother, stomping his feet as he went and yelling at the top of his lungs. It not only distracted the troopers, thus enabling his brother to pick them off easily; but also served to disturb the military men, who had no knowledge of how to deal with a relatively psychotic target, causing them to make stupid mistakes like being corralled into a dead end by two under-equipped civilians. His plans quickly unraveled however, as they stopped at the wall of the dead end, turned and proceeded to aim all of their blasters at him.
He skidded to a halt, in the entrance to the small enclosure, blood freezing in his veins. There had to be only ten of them, their comrades quickly taken out by his younger brother behind him. They should have surrendered, because they were clearly dealing with professionals; Sam had at least taken out fifteen of their fellow companions, let alone how many Dean had taken out seemingly haphazardly. So to say he was a little at a loss now for what to do, would have been a major understatement. His victorious look faded into a sickly pale color, he turned, and ran the other way; narrowly avoiding the blaster bolts they fired after him, and catching up with his brother who fell back a few paces behind him.
If he knew that he outran his little brother in all the chaos, he would have at least tried to make an effort to be a little more cautious. He decided against stopping, throwing a look over his shoulder at his confused brother as he ran for all he was worth. Sam stood in the middle of the hallway, looking at him in exasperated confusion, before noticing the troopers as they rounded the corner after them. He fired a few bolts at them before turning around and hightailing it after his brother.
Sam prayed that Jimmy and Castiel were having a better time of it, getting back to the ship. He wasn’t sure what they would do if either of the young men fell into Zayder’s hands.
The twins simultaneously ducked into an alcove as a few soldiers who were speaking in low tones to each other as they walked down the adjacent hallway. Jimmy knew they had to stop and rest somewhere as he glanced at his brother, they had been traversing the hallways for a while now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer his brother could continue. He didn’t count on the Morning Star to be so confusing, nor did he count on his brother being tortured within an inch of his life just before rescuing him.
Castiel panted against the wall, his knees unable to hold him up as he slowly sank to the floor. He knew they had to run, and fast, to the ship to meet up with the rest of their group. He couldn’t explain the sudden weakness he felt in his limbs, and could have chalked it up to all of the work he was putting his damaged body through, but something was telling him that it was something far more sinister at work.
Casting one more furtive glance behind them, Jimmy grabbed his brother’s waist and hoisted Castiel’s arm over his shoulders. He lead them to the closest abandoned room he could find-how he was able to just walk in and happened to find it empty was beyond him-but he suspected that Faith was still working on their side. He gently lowered his twin into a chair, making sure to go back to the door and activate the locking switch. It would be glaringly obvious to anyone coming across the room that there was someone hiding in there, but he figured he had a few minutes to either hide them or get them out of there before they opened the door to investigate.
He hustled back to his brother, growing ever more concerned as Castiel just rested his head against the back of the seat, too weak to sit up straight. Slight tremors racked Castiel’s body, and his waxy, pale face was flushed. Jimmy wrapped his hand around the prince’s, gasping in surprise at how hot it felt, like he was burning up. It was a pain unlike he had ever felt before, and he had his fair share of burns from the machinery he worked on at the ranch. Castiel stiffened; his eyes snapped open, seeming to burn with a fire of their own. Castiel’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, looking at the other man in utter terror, “Jimmy… help me.”
Castiel didn’t care that he was begging; he was not prepared for something like this, and didn’t know how to stop it. He was boiling in his skin, and unable to find any kind of relief. He shifted slightly, almost screaming in pain as his sensitive skin only transmitted pain into his brain. He could feel the pressure in his mind grow exponentially, knowing something must have burst as he felt liquid slide down him upper lip. Suddenly, with a jolt of pain that had him arching from his seat, he saw.
He saw.
The hum of a lightsaber buzzed through the ominous silence. One red as blood, the other as blue as the skies that used to sweep the expanse of the Alderaani landscape. The glow reflected on both men’s faces, the harsh black breathing mask illuminated with an evil gleam, Bobby’s rimmed in light, serene as he gazed at his executioner.
Words exchanged, one arrogantly triumphant, the other regretful and yet, a warning to his attacker. Words unheeded as blows rained down against the elegant blades, one trying to prove a point, yet for the other… a means to an end.
The outcome was unlike anything that could have been foretold, the evil had triumphed, slicing through the other man as if he was nothing, just the Faith-spectre he was no doubt going to become. The brown cloak, the only physical reminder of the Jedi, pooled upon the floor in smoldering ruin.
He had time for a choked cry as a wave of nausea engulfed him, the pain lanced his body as his thoughts scattered into the far recesses of his mind. Images flashed before his eyes, sounds of elegant blades clashing against each other, the screams of several dying-sent cold chills down his spine. He could hear his heart beating in his chest like the sound of many booted feet, and suddenly he saw Coruscant as it was before he was born, beautiful and yet so very terrible.
The march of several booted feet reverberated through the serene halls of the Jedi Temple like thunder. One lone soldier stood out from the rest, clothed in the inky black darkness that had engulfed his soul. His eyes burned with unholy fire, the reds and yellows that had consumed the warm brown eyes glowed in the shadows of his hood. Behind him, the disciples of the new order of the Galactic Host proudly marched in their pure white armor.
The Temple was silent, more a tomb for the souls housed inside. Deadly quiet, the soldiers moved through the grand entrance, and soon the music of blaster fire and screams filled the night.
He knew what they had done, knew how it could be so easy to destroy the ones that trusted them the most, murdering the helpless in their beds without any feeling whatsoever. They cut down every guard, lit fire to the sacred gardens, confiscating the prized documents as if the Jedi were the ones who were wrong. A lone image of a child gave him a beseeching look, his helpless comrades behind him in a circular training room. The look of trust quickly folded into horror and terror as the lightsaber before him was activated. He saw all, and so much more. He saw every child in that room cut down, unable to defend themselves against one so powerful in the force. He stared blindly at the ceiling, swamped with the images of the Jedi, murdered by the one person they trusted.
Tears had slipped out of the corners of his eyes, he couldn’t control what was happening, couldn’t stop the images from assaulting his mind. The visions swarmed his sight, the desert plains of Tattooine, the healing grasses of Naboo, and then suddenly fire. Fire, as a great man’s body was consumed, as the Temple was destroyed, of the lavas of Mustafar glowing in the distance. Brimstone assaulted his nose, and the images slowed to show him one last sight.
The lava river boiled underneath the young Sith, and Robert stood before him, clearly having the higher ground. Their battle was long, and hard-fought, the older Jedi was weary and heavy-hearted. Every step they had took, from Tattooine to now, had been a path to the Dark Side, though neither had wanted to admit it.
The new Sith knew hatred before meeting the Jedi, he knew suffering, and he knew unimaginable despair; both were to blame however, both were wounded beyond all measure, but neither one wanted to let the other in. So for their mistrust, their pain, a galaxy had fallen into darkness. Thousands of people had died-were dying-and nothing that the other could do could fix it. By killing the other, they knew that they would end the sorrow in their own personal universe.
The young Sith ignored his ex-mentor’s warning and jumped to attack. With great regret, the older Jedi sliced through his legs, cutting them off at the knee. The body tumbled to the ground, rolling to the river and stopped. They spoke to each other one last time; words filled with anger, hurt, and regret, before the Jedi left, unwilling to witness the death of his former student.
Castiel gasped, pulling deep breaths into his lungs as the visions suddenly stopped. As his sight cleared, he saw Jimmy’s worried face above him, his eyes wide and panicked. He gingerly maneuvered himself into a sitting position, and groaned as pain stabbed at his eyes and temples-though admittedly, not as bad as before. He swallowed with difficulty, “H-how long have I been-”
“Only a few minutes,” Jimmy interrupted to reassure. “Longest minutes of my life, but there you go.” He sat back on his heels, “Are you okay? You don’t…Don’t look okay.”
Castiel took another breath, “I will be fine, once we get to the ship. We have to move fast, I think-I think something is going to happen.”
Jimmy frowned, “How do you know?”
“I just do.”
Chuck3PO and BeckyD2 stood in an alcove near the ship, the bronze robot looking frantically around the hangar, “Where could they be? They should have been here by now.”
The other robot beeped in reply, and Chuck3Po shook his head, “I hope they didn’t get into any further trouble, Becky.”
Bobby hurried along the hallway leading to the Millennium Impala, unwilling to let his companions see what was to happen. He was doing this for his own purposes, he well knew, and knew that the Winchester boys would never forgive him this. No matter what he would have said in his defense, they wouldn’t have believed him. He had started this mess, he let it happen, and now he was going to fix it.
He could sense the other Jedi’s Faith-signature as easily as he used to so long ago, it saddened him to realize that the bond they used to share was just as strong as it used to be, after everything that had happened.
”It’s over, Zachariah,” Bobby threw his hands to the sides, deactivating his lightsaber, “I have the higher ground. There’s nothing you can do.” He was so very tired; the fighting, the games, everything-he just wanted it to end. If there was some way he could bring his friend back from the abyss he let himself fall into, he would do all in his considerable power to bring him back, even though by now it would be pointless.
“You have always underestimated me, my power…” His gray flesh, the shadows under his eyes, told Bobby that his friend, his brother, was lost. The evidence was such that it nearly brought Robert to his knees, and up until now, he couldn’t bear to think of the one person he trusted the most could possibly do the atrocities he had done. The once kind brown eyes darted around the landscape surrounding his former master, and Robert could see the calculation in that cold gaze.
With a sinking realization, Robert knew exactly what his apprentice was about to attempt, “Don’t do it, kid.”
Zachriah disregarded his warning-his impatience clouding his judgment-and flipped off the platform that hovered above the lava river. With a lightning quick motion, Robert sliced off his legs at the knee, and watched with regret weighing his heart as the body tumbled to the edge for the river.
“What did you do?! You stupid ass, you were one of us!” Robert yelled brokenly, the sight of that helpless body broke the dam he had set his emotions behind, “Going darkside was never something I would ever thought you capable of! We were going to bring balance to the Faith, and you just let it all slip away!”
He looked up as he sensed his former student, and faced the masked man who appeared down the hallway. He was unused to seeing him this way, how much he had changed. This was his apprentice, the boy he raised to manhood: his friend, his brother, and now, his executioner. His heart dropped in sadness as the younger man activated his lightsaber, and where once the blade was a pure blue light, it was now scarlet-red as the blood on his hands.
Bobby straightened and activated his own blade, the beautiful blue light that once filled him with hope and Faith only served to illuminate the hallway in a cold, bright light. He stepped forward slowly, noticing as Zayder did the very same thing.
Bobby could almost see the arrogant smirk the younger man wore, could sense it in his voice, “I have been waiting for this for a long time, old man. The circle is now complete, wouldn’t you say?”
Bobby just stared at the black-mask’s eyes-shifting into an offensive posture with a grace that belied his age-it was a simple movement, nothing as elaborate a stance as he used to make. His lightsaber hummed and crackled in wait as the other man dropped into a fighting stance, the red blade swinging elegantly in impatience. Zayder, or rather Zachariah, could never stand still before a fight. The helmet’s head cocked, “When I left the Jedi, I was but a learner. Now I am the master.”
Bobby snorted, “In your dreams, Zayder.”
The warriors stilled-each sizing the other up-waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The air seemed to vibrate, and Bobby’s lips thinned as he felt the pressure on his shoulders, so Zayder decided to fight dirty. Well, two can play at that little game, he thought. Bobby cracked his head from side to side, easily shoving the pressure away as if it were nothing.
The older man lunged, and brought his lightsaber up at the last moment to catch the lightning that arched from the bigger man’s hand. It was the same ploy that was used on his fellow Jedi commander, and Bobby was not about to fall for it. So the fight was on, each saber crashing against the other, each warrior gaining and losing ground equally. Bobby moved around the other man, quicker and faster than the lumbering gait of Zayder’s mechanical legs. If Zayder wasn’t nearly all-machine, Bobby would have had a harder-and perhaps, longer-time of it.
Bobby started inching his way backward into the hangar after quickly realizing their duel wouldn’t work well as a distraction to get the boys out of the Morning Star. They paused, Bobby noticed as a few soldiers nearby forgot their work and decided to watch an old man going up against their mighty master, which he was sure that by just the look of the absurd image, Zayder would grow angrier. It was all the more reason to play the scene as best as he could. He sent a prayer out into the Faith, hoping against everything that the boys were able to make it out alive.
Their lightsabers buzzed in the air as they circled each other. Zayder snarled, “Your abilities are weak, Robert.” It was almost as if the younger man was complaining slightly, but Bobby didn’t have the benefit of age at his disposal any longer, or a near mechanical body, as the other well-knew.
“You won’t win, Zayder,” Bobby said quietly, only for Zayder to hear, “You strike me down, I’ll become more powerful than you realize. Idgit.”
Idgit.
The one word that Zayder heard throughout his life as a Jedi, the one word that he detested above all others. Bobby knew that it would piss Zayder off to no end to hear it, even though that half the time he said it to him while they were partners, it was out of affection. It would incite the younger to fits of rage, and it served him well now to use it. The younger man snarled again, lunging for the old man and swinging the scarlet blade at his head, to be blocked by Bobby’s.
Dean and Sam leaned against the wall facing the massive hangar, and stared at the soldiers in bewilderment as they tried to catch their breath from running. They seemed to be watching something interesting, but for the life of him, the older Winchester couldn’t catch a glimpse. Dean panted, squinting over at his brother, “Didn’t we just leave this room? Like, not an hour ago?”
“Yeah,” Sam breathed, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans-covered thighs, “I know, right?”
Dean nodded at Jimmy as the young man and his twin approached the Winchesters, “What took you guys so long?”
Castiel frowned, “We got lost.”
Jimmy’s gaze flicked between Dean and his brother, and cleared his throat, “So… is the ship alright?”
Dean shrugged, “Should be, if we can get to it. I just hope Bobby was able to deactivate the tractor beam, or we are going to be hitting the wall as soon as we get out of here.”
Sam nodded, and then suddenly frowned, “Where is he anyway? I mean, we took long enough, right?”
Dean shook his head and shrugged-silently questioning the old man himself as a tightening in his gut let him know that something was very wrong.
The group inched closer to the ship, making sure that none of the soldiers could see them, it was easy since their attentions were focused on what they assumed was a fight. As they climbed the ramp to lead them into the ship, using the distraction behind them to ready the ship for take-off, Jimmy glanced over his shoulder and gasped in horror. He yanked on Dean’s sleeve to get his attention and pointed behind them, “Look!”
The group froze as the crowd parted minutely, revealing Bobby and Lord Zayder dueling. Their lightsabers crashed and whirled so fast, the blades became a blur to them. The Winchesters and Jimmy were equally surprised and bewildered, they never seen the old man fight, let alone with such grace and power.
Out of his peripheral vision, Jimmy could see the bronze sheen of Chuck3PO’s metal body approaching them from a nearby alcove, BeckyD2 following close behind. Chuck3PO cocked his head in question, and Jimmy shook his head and motioned them into the ship. With one last glance behind them, the droids followed their master’s bidding and shuffled quickly into the ship.
Dean moved forward to the end of the ramp, disregarding the restraining hand his brother put on his shoulder-there had to be a way to help his old friend. Bobby was more a father to him than their own; he deserved more than to be killed in front of an audience in the dirty hangar of massive battle station. His heart was in his throat as he watched the two dueling, he knew that there was no way all of them would make it out of there alive, and suddenly the bad feeling he felt ever since Bobby had left the control room an hour before came back anew.
“Oh no, no, no, no,” He chanted under his breath, taking another few steps closer to the large group. He felt Sam’s large hands settle once more on his shoulders, gently pulling him backward to the ship. Digging in his heels, his jaw clenching, he watched as Zayder swung his lightsaber downward and gasped as Bobby stopped it.
Bobby looked around him, eyes settling on Dean. I wished I could tell you why, he thought to the young man. His face relaxed, smiling softly at Dean horror-stricken face, and turned back to his opponent. Dean’s heart seized in his chest, the scream that bubbled up in his lungs froze in his throat as Bobby lifted his sword from Zayder’s, freeing the man to strike his killing blow.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion, a sight that was sure to haunt Dean’s dreams for the rest of his life. Bobby seemed to fade before his very eyes as Zayder let his saber descend, cutting the man in half. He could feel the slice just as if it happened to himself, and unexpectedly the scream he tried to contain echoed throughout the hangar.
“NO!”
Sam grunted as he picked his brother up when Dean tried to run to Bobby, and he ran toward the ship. He ignored the blaster fire that flew around them, and yelled the others to get into the ship. Jimmy stood there stunned, staring at the brown cloak in seeming betrayal until Castiel squeezed his shoulders, his white face spurring Jimmy into action.
As the brothers approached the ship, Sam set Dean down. Noticing how wide and tragic his eyes were, he shook his older brother, “Now is not the time for this, Dean. He didn’t die for us to be slaughtered right after. We have to get out of here.”
Dean slumped, and looked away. He knew his younger brother was right, knew that their only hope lie in Dean getting them out of the Morning Star and safely with the Rebel Hunters. Castiel knew where their encampment was, and would be able to direct them. At the thought of Castiel, of everything he had given up and what that the prince had gone through, he straightened. Nodding to his brother, he lifted his gun and shot at the troops, he could break later, when they weren’t in certain peril.
Jimmy stood at the opening of the ship, frozen in place as the brothers held off the soldiers, he was sure they wouldn’t be able to make it out alive if he didn’t help. He ran down the ramp, unholstered his blaster, and shot erratically at the troops, almost nauseous as he felt satisfaction as some of the men fell.
Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye and shouted, “Shoot the blast door, Jimmy! It will cut them off!”
Taking a deep breath, Jimmy quickly aimed his blaster and fired. He gasped as the panel exploded and the doors started to slid shut, effectively cutting Zayder and the troop off from the hangar. He growled as three soldiers managed to hurtle through the opening in the doors, feeling a thin trail of sweat traveling slowly down the side of his face as he tried to get a better aim. He didn’t want to kill them, but incapacitate them long enough to let them escape.
He didn’t know what possessed him to hiss sharply and walk down the ramp of the ship. His head cocked to the side as he lined his sight at the soldiers, and pulled continuingly on the trigger. His vision grayed as he took out his helplessness and rage on the lone soldiers. His body suddenly grew cold, his hands shook as he pulled the trigger three more times until the last soldier fell to the ground.
He could do nothing when his vision cleared, frozen to the spot as he realized what he just did. He couldn’t have killed those men; he didn’t have it in him to do something so horrible. What would Bobby have said if he saw what he did? Were those really the actions a Jedi would have taken? His breath came in pants as he stared at the carnage before him, feeling the bile rise in his throat.
Run, Jimmy! Get out of there!
Jimmy reared back as he heard the voice echo in his mind; it sounded so much like Bobby’s gruff voice that it made his breath hitch in his chest. He must have been in shock, there was no way he could hear Bobby so soon after his death-it wasn’t possible. His gaze darted around the hangar for any reason to explain the voice.
He shook himself, they were right, they had to leave and quickly if they were going to survive the next few hours. He could figure out later why he heard Bobby so clearly, although he could always chalk it up to a nervous breakdown. He nodded, that had to be it. He holstered his blaster in his utility belt, and ran back to the Millennium Impala. He thundered up the ramp and ducked his head as he felt hands on each shoulder to guide him through. The portal closed behind them, and Dean hurried down the short hallway towards the cockpit.
Sam gripped both of his shoulders, hunching down to Jimmy’s eye-level, asking quietly, “Are you going to be okay?”
Jimmy frowned as he nodded silently, completely taken by surprise as Sam’s grip firmed and jerked him once.
“I mean it, Jimmy. We need you now more than ever, and I have to know that we can count on you when the time comes.”
“Yes,” Jimmy bit out, “I’m fine.”
Sam’s lips quirked in a quick grin, “Good, ‘cause this looks like it’s going to be a bumpy ride.” He let go of Jimmy and quickly jogged down the same path his older brother made to join him in the cockpit. Jimmy glanced at his twin, who gazed back at him sympathetically. He shook his head, his large blue eyes watering, “I-I’m sorry, I thought-”
“No,” Castiel murmured, closing the last few steps between them and gripping his upper arms as the ship lurched, “You couldn’t control what came over you, just as I couldn’t. Don’t let this sorrow consume you, Jimmy. You did nothing wrong, you were only trying to get us out alive.”
Jimmy sighed, looking away, “I wish I could believe you.”
Dean’s lips thinned as he concentrated on powering the ship, and glanced at his younger brother who settled into the seat beside him. He went through the motions of powering up the ship robotically, they had done this so many times before that they moved in sync, in perfect harmony. Their fingers flicked the switches and angled the levers so quickly it was like breathing.
Dean could hear the soft voices behind him, in the hallway, and knew the twins were talking about the events in the hangar. Really, what he wanted to do at that moment was to scream until his voice gave out, beat against the wall until his hands shattered, rub the image out of his eyes until he couldn’t see anything. He shook his head sharply, swallowing hard to ease the tightness in his chest. Not now, don’t do this now, you can’t-
“Don’t think about it, dude,” Sam said quietly, “not now. We can’t do this now. After we get the prince and his brother to where they need to be, that’s when we’ll take a break from all of this.”
Dean frowned, angling the ship quickly out of the hangar, “I wasn’t thinking about anything Sammy.”
Sam sighed, and from the corner of his eye he could see his younger brother clench his hands around the navigator in a white-knuckled grip, “Dude, I’ve learned every look on your face since I was a baby. I know when you’re feeling-”
“Sammy. Shut up.”
The silence in the cockpit was thick as they shot out of the Morning Star, neither brother willing to speak about what had just happened, especially since the Galactic Host was on their trail.
Jimmy was slumped at the table in the min living area of the ship as he went through the events that day in his mind. He kept rifling through every action, trying to find the one thing he could have done differently to stop Bobby from dying so horribly. His shoulders slumped, and his hands plunged through his thick, dark hair. It was hopeless, anything that he could have done would have resulted in his or someone else’s death.
And speaking of-
Three men died today, because of Jimmy. He was sure that there were more, he couldn’t be so naïve that it was only so few that died, but it was because of him that made him feel-
He really wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, these men served the very people that killed his aunt and uncle, just for buying two droids. They didn’t know that the droids held secret plans of their battle station. On the other, they were only following orders, and Jimmy couldn’t be sure they were the very same men that killed two innocent people.
It sickened him to think he had blood on his hands that no amount of prayer, or atonement would ever wash off.
Castiel watched from the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, more support for his aching body than comfort. He ached to see the disgusted, ashamed look on Jimmy’s face, and wished will all he had-what he had left to give-that Jimmy did not have to go through this pain.
And wasn’t that the curious thing?
A few hours ago, he knew that he was an only son, and now-well now, he was a twin. They shared blood, genetics-and if he wanted to be idealistic-a soul. He couldn’t help feeling the way he did, if he had a choice, he would choose this closeness every time. For too long he had felt as if something was missing, a lost piece, that no matter who he was surrounded with-or what-it never took away that empty feeling.
Now, to see that his brother lost in his own hell-a hell of his own making, granted-Castiel wasn’t about to just stand back and watch. He propelled himself off of his lean, looking around for a blanket, or something that would be able to stop Jimmy’s shaking. His eyes fell on an old, worn blanket tossed haphazardly on a chair nearby, and made a small triumphant noise in his throat. Grabbing the blanket and walking over to his brother, he slid in the seat beside him, wrapping the warm fabric around Jimmy’s shoulders.
He kept his arms around his twin, “How are you?”
Jimmy shook his head, and breathed, “I can’t believe Bobby’s is gone. One minute he was there, fighting Zayder so skillfully, and the next… gone.”
“There was nothing you could have done, Jimmy. I suspect he knew what was going to happen all along, and made peace with it, you should as well.”
Jimmy leaned back, and shot a look at Castiel, “Don’t let Dean hear you say that. You should have seen him, Cas. It was horrible.”
Before Castiel could respond, Dean barreled into the main area, startling both brothers. He looked rather alarmed, his green eyes wide, “Hey Jim, ol’ buddy. We got some bogeys on our tail, need your help.”
The twins shared a look, and Jimmy shrugged, “What do I have to do?”
Dean grunted, “We don’t actually have time for this-”
Castiel stood, and gave Dean a haughty look, “Explain, and we might help you.”
“Might?” Dean shifted backwards, a little surprised. As the prince nodded, he rolled his eyes, “Well princess, the Galactic Host are after us, with a major hate-on. We have to kill them before they kill us. Is that enough of an explanation for you?”
Castiel pursed his lips at the insult, and turned to look at his twin. Jimmy was pale and his hands were shaking, there was no way he would be able to hold it together to get them through the barrage the Host were no doubt about to put them through. Making a quick decision, the prince turned back to Dean, “I’ll help you.”
“You?” Dean snorted, “Excuse me for asking, but are you a good enough shot? We can’t afford for you princely sensibilities to get into the way.”
“Point me in the direction of your gun-port, and I’ll show you just what my ‘princely sensibilities’ can do.”
Dean motioned behind him, “After you.”
The twins separated, Jimmy going to the cockpit to help Sam maneuver the ship, while Castiel settled into the opposite gun-port from Dean. He fitted the headset that would allow them to be able to communicate with each other over his ears, and adjusted the microphone attached to it as close to his mouth as he could get it.
He relaxed into the leather bucket seat of the laser turret, and curled his long-fingered hands around the controls. The slightest shift of his body, a flick of his wrist, would rotate the turret to its desired location. He took only a moment to test it, before quickly righting the gun-port back to its original position.
He blinked as he heard Dean’s scratchy baritone in his ear, “You in, Cas?”
Quirking a smile, Castiel answered, “Yes. How close are they?”
“To the left and closing in fast.”
He could hear a soft scratching noise, then Sam’s voice barked into his ear, “Left, 2 o’clock!”
Castiel flicked his wrists, noting in satisfaction how responsive the controls were. The Millennium Impala may look old and beaten up, but the ballistic upgrades more than made up for the look. He saw them closing in, squinting slightly as he squeezed the trigger. He wasn’t prepared for the cannon’s kick-back, but as he saw one of the enemy ships exploding, he couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face.
He was glad that he was tutored in piloting a ship, and nearly ecstatic as he was taught how to fire all the various weaponry certain ships were equipped with.
“Dude,” Dean intoned good-naturedly, “I can’t believe you got the first one.”
“Skill,” Castiel chuckled.
“I call ‘bull-shit’,” Sam laughed.
The Galactic Host proceeded to fire upon the Millennium Impala, and the prince silently cheered that the ship was blessed reinforced. The damage the ship took was minimal, and neither one of the Winchester brothers were concerned. He could hear Dean grumbling about his ‘baby’, and Sam assuring him that they would be able to get her outsides repaired, before all sound ceased. The time for concentration was nigh.
He saw another ship exploding, to his right, and knew that Dean managed to shoot down another ship. From what he could gather, there were at least three more lurking around the ship, trying their damndest to damage the ship enough to either incapacitate them or kill them. The two men decided quickly that their best course of action would be to aim at the same target, thus culling the herd quickly and without further damage to the ship.
In the next few minutes, Dean and Castiel moved in harmony, firing at the enemy targets as they grew close. The prince couldn’t explain how they managed to do so, neither one or the other knew what the other could see or was doing, but there were only a few times in which Dean would have to instruct Castiel where to fire.
The ship jerked suddenly, sending Castiel careening around, momentarily losing his equilibrium. Jimmy cursed, “The lateral controls are out.”
“Don’t worry, my baby will hold together,” Dean stated firmly, and Castiel could almost see his nod of confirmation.
Just as he said this, the last three TIE fighters started to attack in earnest. They quieted, and tracked each ship as they flew by, taking them out one by one. Finally there was only one left, making a last ditch effort to take out the Millennium Impala, it swooped closer and fired at the ship. Dean and Castiel swerved to aim, waiting until it got closer to them before firing. As it got close enough for them to see the Galactic insignia, they pulled their respective triggers. With a shower of burning fragments, it exploded, and the Millennium Impala shuddered from the after math before settling.
Castiel ripped the headset off of his head as the speakers nearly blew with the sound of their joyful cheering, and left the gun-port to meet up with his brother whom he was sure was waiting for him in the hallway. Sure enough, as soon as he climbed down from the turrets, he was crushed in Jimmy’s arms. He gasped in pain and stiffened sharply, he nearly forgot how much he put his body through that day.
“Oh god!” Jimmy let him go quickly, leaning him up against the wall, cringing as he took in his brother’s suddenly white face, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”
Castiel held up a hand, “I’m f-fine. I just…It would be better if I had a chance to clean the wounds, the garbage chute wasn’t the best place to be after-that.”
Dean jumped down from his ladder and faced the twins, “Castiel’s right, any nick could get infected from being in that place for too long.” He nodded his head down the hallway, “The refresher unit is the only door off of the main hold, you can’t miss it. There are fresh towels in the cupboard, and I’ll look for some better clothes for you. Nothing too fashionable, but they’ll keep you until we get you where you need to be.”
Castiel blinked, unused to the abrasive man being so kind, “I-thank you, Dean.”
The other man winked, giving him a grin that told the prince exactly why the other man got on his nerves, “Don’t mention it.”
Castiel scoffed in disgust and walked away stiffly, his haughty storm-off made less of an impact at the slight limp of his right leg. Nevertheless, the prince didn’t look back, and held his head high until he approached the door to the refresher unit and went inside.
Dean chuckled, “Your bro’s got some backbone, Jimmy.” He cocked his head slightly, and glanced at the other man, “Whaddya think?”
Jimmy cocked a dark eyebrow, “Depends on what you’re asking.”
The smuggler shrugged, folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, “You know-a prince and a guy like me…”
Jimmy made a face as the older Winchester trailed off with a wistful look on his face, staring after the prince, “He’s my brother.”
“And?”
“And that means he’s off limits.” Jimmy copied Dean’s stance, somehow less intimidating as he had to look up at Dean to meet him in the eyes.
As the door to the refresher until shut behind him, Castiel sighed and slumped against the cool metal. The hum of the ship was the only thing he could hear in the small room, and the tightness that he felt in his shoulders and neck drained away with hearing that sound. His eyes cracked open after a few blissful moments of silence to survey the compact room. There was a cabinet to his right, which he assumed held a few towels and other various hygiene products. In front of him was the sonic shower cubicle, the frosted glass door rolled back to reveal a clean tiled interior. At his left, stood the sink and the mirrored medicine cabinet, an overall simple but clean compartment.
He cringed to see the bruises darkening on his pale face in the small mirror, and groaned as the small movement from that alone made his head throb. He hissed as he straightened and took off his outer robe, the small cloth fibers sticking to the wounds on his back. He walked to the shower cubicle, and turned on the water as hot as he could stand it; the steam billowed forth and filled the room quickly.
He swiftly undressed and carefully folded the rest of his clothing, laying them on a bench sitting just underneath the small cabinet. Despite the warmth in the room, he started shaking from a sudden chill and stepped quickly into the cubicle and rolled the door closed behind him. He groaned in relief as the hot water washed away the grime and dried blood from his skin, relaxing his sore muscles and easing the sharp headache that had started to blossom. Castiel closed his eyes and stood under the spray, willing his limbs to stop shaking.
His darkened sight gave him no respite however, as the image of his parents bloomed forth in his mind. Cutting off a harsh cry, he wiped his face harshly. He couldn’t do this, not yet, not before he did what he was charged to do.
“We trust you, Castiel,” He could hear his father’s gentle voice echoing in his mind, “We trust you to get the plans safely to Robert Singer, to request his aid. He is the only one who can help us now.”
“Father,” He spoke softly, glancing around the assembled group that was to see him off, “I don’t know if I should be the one to get those plans. I’m a senator, not a spy, these plans are too important for someone like me to retrieve them.”
His father’s weathered face split into a bright smile, “Have faith, my son. As I have in you, believe in your abilities to see this through.”
“No, please,” He whimpered. He shook his head quickly, resolutely refusing to torture himself further. He would deal with this guilt and pain when he saw the Morning Star destroyed, and not before. He choked as endless images of the people he sworn to protect filtered through his mind: his mother, his tutors, the loyal servants, young men, women, children; an endless array of people that had died because he failed to protect them.
“They trusted you, Castiel.”
He gasped; he could never mistake Zayder’s oily melodic voice for anyone else. He looked around, wiped the condensation off the door at the insane thought that somehow the Sith commander stole his way onto the ship. Even though he knew it wasn’t possible, there was no other way to explain how it was that he could hear him.
”Has it not occurred to that there is a simple explanation as to why you can hear me, little prince?”
He panted, shaking his head as he stared blindly forward, as if the man could materialize in front of him, “No-no, I can’t hear you. This is a nervous breakdown, a psychotic episode. This is shock from being held captive and tortured. You can’t hear him. You can’t hear him.”
Zayder laughed darkly, and Castiel almost gagged at the sound, “We are more alike than you care to think. You, me… Jimmy.”
His eyes welled up, and in a small voice he whispered, “No.”
“Oh, yes.” Castiel swayed, and he threw up his hand to keep himself balanced as Zayder continued, “I was rather surprised to see Jimmy, I really wasn’t expecting that. But I’ll forgive you for not telling me that you have a brother, a twin, just this once. He is rather powerful for a desert rat.”
“You know nothing about him. Leave him alone, your fight is with me.”
“Oh, you lost your ability to sway my hand long before this, prince,” Castiel could hear the dark threat in his voice. There was such sinister promise in that voice, “Such raw power for one so young, just like you. So easy to manipulate, so easy to coax him to the Dark Side…he would be the best pupil I think I ever had.”
“Don’t try it.” Castiel growled; he would be damned all over again if he let Zayder do as he planned.
“Do or do not, there is no try, young one. You would know that if you tried your hand at focusing on your abilities instead of defending the Rebel Hunters. All that work, and you have nothing to show for it, your family is dead, your home-world is destroyed, and you led your twin to my attention. Bravo. Oh, and your threat? I will do as I please, with you and your brother.” Castiel could hear the pause, “I guess I have you to thank for bringing him to my attention. You have been so very-helpful. See you on the other side…son.”
His heart pounded in his chest, no…it couldn’t be, he couldn’t be the son of someone so evil. And how was it possible? He couldn’t breathe, the confined space only served to make him believe that the walls were closing in on him. It was the garbage chute all over again, with no Dean Winchester to hold onto like a lifeline. He supposed that the information shouldn’t have come as such a shock; he looked nothing like his parents.
He fell to his knees, hugging himself tightly as it all became so clear to him. It explained why Zayder was hunting him down, how he seemed to get under his skin so easily, how easy it was for them to be able to communicate so easily now even so far away. He couldn’t muster the hurt or anger that he had been lied to all of his life, after all, he killed his family. What was a lie compared to that?
Dean walked toward the refresher unit after he found some old clothing that he thought might fit the slender royal. He was surprised to see the emergency light blinking, either the prince had a horrible accident that Dean really didn’t want to know about, or something was very wrong. His brow furrowed as he pushed the button to open the door, wondering why the hell the prince couldn’t see the light and act accordingly. Was he just having too good of a time in the shower?
He steeled his nerve, and walked through the door, gasping at the temperature inside the refresher unit. For someone that had been taking a shower for the past forty minutes, it was awfully cold in there. Space was cold, no matter what kind of heating system was installed in the ship in question, and even though he loved the Millennium Impala almost as much as he loved his brother, she was old and could do with some better upgrading. His eyes fell on the shower door and spared the first rush of anger he felt at seeing that the glass was not just cracked, but punched through when he saw the hunched figure huddled in the corner of the tiny cubicle. The shower door was a minor thing compared to well-being of the prince; the ruined glass was just another thing to add to the list of repairs, which seemed to get longer the more time he spent with the twins.
He shoved that all away guiltily as he heard the breathy noises emerging from the shower, he would have time to bitch about it later, after he figured out what was going on. He stepped over the glass shards easily, cringing as they crunched underneath his boot heels like dry twigs. The shower water was like icy needles against his exposed skin, chilling his exposed flesh as it seeped into his clothes.
He sighed as he imagined how the prince was feeling right about now, he’d been where the royal was and only a short time ago, however Dean was very much alone when he took a little walk out of his head while in the shower. Even though it wasn’t exactly his brother’s fault at wanting something more out of life and left to go to the Academy, he couldn’t help the feeling of abandonment.
He twisted the knob to turn the water off, shaking a little from his lowered body temperature. If he was cold, then the prince had to be freezing. He crouched in front of the huddled figure to gauge his response, of which there was none, his large vacant blue eye were dull and listless. He cursed, and grabbed the robe that he brought with him out of sheer impulse, suddenly glad of that spontaneous action, the prince needed to be covered up to keep the little body heat he had left. Gathering the small figure in his arms, he wrapped the thick cloth around him, cinching it closed around his tapered waist.
Forty damn minutes he was left alone in the shower, Dean had to get him the hell out of there and someplace warm. Standing up in the cubicle while holding his light bundle was easy, but as he turned to walk out he growled in annoyance. With a swift and hard kick, he shattered the rest of the glass that was still clinging to its fastenings. It was already ruined; everyone would just have to deal with not having a door to the shower until he could get it fixed.
He laid Castiel down on the padded bench, under his supply cabinet and next to the heating vent that was carefully concealed, and walked over to the control panel next to the door. He punched a few buttons to crank the heat in the little room, exhaling in relief as he could feel the temperature climbing. He turned back to the prince, gathering his small bundle in his arms and gently chafing his chilled limbs.
“Come on Cas,” He pleaded, gently nudging his shoulder, “Damn it, you’ve got to wake up.”
He smiled as he felt a foot twitch, glad that his efforts were garnering the desired results. He wasn’t ready however, for the prince to suddenly awaken with a loud gasp, nearly kicking him in the face as he scrambled away from Dean. Castiel sat back on his hands, panting as he looked around the room frantically, “A-am I still-What happened? How did you-”
“Hey, hey,” Dean crooned softly, slowly inching his way toward him, making small movements so as not to spook the prince, “Calm down, you’re okay now.” He sat down next the prince, maybe a little closer than was normal, but he figured that he must have done something right since Castiel didn’t shuffle away again. He looked into the prince’s cloudy eyes carefully, “You okay there, Cas?”
The prince looked away, and scrubbed at his face with his hands, “I-yes. I’m fine now.”
The pilot snorted, “You don’t look it.” In fact, a thin stream of blood wound its way down the side of Castiel’s face from a small cut on his forehead. Dean cradled the prince’s head in his rough smuggler’s hands, gently angling it to where he could see the cut clearly, hissing at how jagged it was.
He marveled at the trust the prince displayed, Dean was a stranger after all and could easily kill him if he really wanted to. Castiel was one of those people that had such a helpless look, even underneath there was a strength that most would have been lucky to possess, and so brave to stay calm after everything that had happened. It wasn’t every day that someone was imprisoned and tortured for information by the Galactic Host. Castiel was so many things wrapped up in an enigmatic little package that didn’t cease to turn Dean’s crank. The older Winchester sighed, “Yeah, I’m going to have to clean that. You’re lucky you don’t have a concussion.”
After a short silence, Dean could feel the atmosphere in the small room change drastically, a type of charge in the air that Dean knew quite well. Dean’s eyes flicked down to Castiel’s slightly parted lips, and gulped, “I-I think I need to get you onto the bench…”
The prince said nothing, only nodded. Dean grinned slightly, he really shouldn’t get into this little moment they were currently having, because it would lead to…very bad things. Even though the prince was such a tempting sight: damp hair disheveled and sticking up wildly, the well-worn robe covering all the interesting bits but leaving enough for Dean’s wild imagination, soft lips parted and panting, his darkened eyes at half-mast. It was enough to make Dean need to have a couple strong brews, his mouth was so dry.
Dean shook himself after a few moments; it was really time to get to the job at hand, even if he was tempted beyond belief. The prince was seriously pushing every single one of Dean’s buttons; and all at once. He bit his lip in sudden guilt; here was a person-an innocent person-that needed his help, and all he could think about was how he would look out of that robe. He helped the prince stand, pausing as the slight man stumbled and grabbed Dean’s upper arms, and suddenly Dean was back in the garbage chute. Only this time their respective brothers weren’t there to stop them. This time they were alone.
They gazed into each other’s eyes once more-their breaths mingled between their parted lips-their hearts pounding in tandem as the room heated. Only one move, one small move, and Dean would finally be able to lick those dry lips. One moment-two- and then the spell was broken as Castiel regained his balance, easing out of the intense embrace they found themselves in. Dean wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, he was so sure that Castiel was about to-or at least wanted to-kiss him.
Dean blinked rapidly as he opened the cabinet door for a small towel, and eased the other man onto the bench. He hurried to the sink and dampened the towel with warm water, then went back to kneel before the prince. He tenderly wiped away the blood from Castiel’s forehead, crooning softly as he dabbed at the wound, knowing full-well how that had to sting like a bitch. He didn’t see the prince’s face soften as he looked at the smuggler, nor did he see how his own lips parted as he squinted at the cut, he was focusing so hard at healing the cut that it was a shock to feel Castiel’s fingertips brush his jaw.
Dean couldn’t exactly explain just how it happened; first he was cleaning that small wound, and then he was gazing into Castiel’s wet eyes before he looked away, too ashamed to let the smuggler know he was hurt more than just physically. Dean knew that lost expression, had seen it too many times in the mirror, and ached to wipe that pain away. He made a small sound as a stray tear fell from Castiel’s eye, and gently wiped it away. Their eyes locked, and suddenly they were passionately kissing. He groaned as Castiel kissed him back immediately, throwing himself fully into the slide of their lips. It suddenly didn’t matter that Castiel was royalty and pretty much off-limits to someone like himself, there was something about him that just drew the Winchester like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t resist Castiel’s pull and wasn’t really sure if he wanted to.
He lightly flicked his tongue against Castiel’s bottom lip, groaning at the taste, and wrapped his arms around the prince’s trim waist to pull him closer. Castiel gasped, parting his lips as the smuggler nipped gently, begging entry. With a whimpered moan, the prince plunged his hand into Dean’s closely cropped hair, cupping the back of his head as he opened his mouth to Dean’s questing tongue. Dean’s hips bucked into the prince as he felt the light scratch of his fingernails against his scalp, good god it was like the prince knew everywhere that would send Dean straight to the moon, and they hardly had a chance to spend any time alone. How was it possible that they were able to sink so easily into each other? The intensity alone was enough to send Dean’s mind whirling, the prince’s single-minded focus would have alarmed him at any other time, but for now it just served to send him into a higher state of arousal.
Reluctantly pulling back to allow both of them to breathe, Dean gently nipped along Castiel’s jaw, finally laving at the small spot of skin just below his right ear. Castiel hissed through his teeth, his heart thumping wildly as one of the smuggler’s rough hands slipped from around his waist, and slowly slid up his thigh underneath the robe. The prince cried out as he threw his head back, and clutched Dean tighter, panted hard as Dean softly sucked on his pulse.
They froze as they heard a shocked voice suddenly cry, “Get off my brother!”
Chapter Five
By:Wynna Pendragon
Rating:PG-13
Pairing:Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: All spoilers for Star Wars, and Supernatural
Warnings: Star Wars fusion.
Summary: Hunted by the Host’s most menacing agents, Prince Castiel races home aboard his starship, guardian of the secret plans that could not only save his charges, but the entire galaxy…
Feedback: Is appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Star Wars, or the characters and concepts within.
Author's Notes: All thanks goes to kitty_alex. Links to the previous chapters are here.
Chapter Four
Dean idly thought, as he ran down the hallway after the troopers, that if it was anyone other than his brother watching his back at that very moment, he would be dead. Of course, it helped that he took the focus off of his brother, stomping his feet as he went and yelling at the top of his lungs. It not only distracted the troopers, thus enabling his brother to pick them off easily; but also served to disturb the military men, who had no knowledge of how to deal with a relatively psychotic target, causing them to make stupid mistakes like being corralled into a dead end by two under-equipped civilians. His plans quickly unraveled however, as they stopped at the wall of the dead end, turned and proceeded to aim all of their blasters at him.
He skidded to a halt, in the entrance to the small enclosure, blood freezing in his veins. There had to be only ten of them, their comrades quickly taken out by his younger brother behind him. They should have surrendered, because they were clearly dealing with professionals; Sam had at least taken out fifteen of their fellow companions, let alone how many Dean had taken out seemingly haphazardly. So to say he was a little at a loss now for what to do, would have been a major understatement. His victorious look faded into a sickly pale color, he turned, and ran the other way; narrowly avoiding the blaster bolts they fired after him, and catching up with his brother who fell back a few paces behind him.
If he knew that he outran his little brother in all the chaos, he would have at least tried to make an effort to be a little more cautious. He decided against stopping, throwing a look over his shoulder at his confused brother as he ran for all he was worth. Sam stood in the middle of the hallway, looking at him in exasperated confusion, before noticing the troopers as they rounded the corner after them. He fired a few bolts at them before turning around and hightailing it after his brother.
Sam prayed that Jimmy and Castiel were having a better time of it, getting back to the ship. He wasn’t sure what they would do if either of the young men fell into Zayder’s hands.
The twins simultaneously ducked into an alcove as a few soldiers who were speaking in low tones to each other as they walked down the adjacent hallway. Jimmy knew they had to stop and rest somewhere as he glanced at his brother, they had been traversing the hallways for a while now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer his brother could continue. He didn’t count on the Morning Star to be so confusing, nor did he count on his brother being tortured within an inch of his life just before rescuing him.
Castiel panted against the wall, his knees unable to hold him up as he slowly sank to the floor. He knew they had to run, and fast, to the ship to meet up with the rest of their group. He couldn’t explain the sudden weakness he felt in his limbs, and could have chalked it up to all of the work he was putting his damaged body through, but something was telling him that it was something far more sinister at work.
Casting one more furtive glance behind them, Jimmy grabbed his brother’s waist and hoisted Castiel’s arm over his shoulders. He lead them to the closest abandoned room he could find-how he was able to just walk in and happened to find it empty was beyond him-but he suspected that Faith was still working on their side. He gently lowered his twin into a chair, making sure to go back to the door and activate the locking switch. It would be glaringly obvious to anyone coming across the room that there was someone hiding in there, but he figured he had a few minutes to either hide them or get them out of there before they opened the door to investigate.
He hustled back to his brother, growing ever more concerned as Castiel just rested his head against the back of the seat, too weak to sit up straight. Slight tremors racked Castiel’s body, and his waxy, pale face was flushed. Jimmy wrapped his hand around the prince’s, gasping in surprise at how hot it felt, like he was burning up. It was a pain unlike he had ever felt before, and he had his fair share of burns from the machinery he worked on at the ranch. Castiel stiffened; his eyes snapped open, seeming to burn with a fire of their own. Castiel’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, looking at the other man in utter terror, “Jimmy… help me.”
Castiel didn’t care that he was begging; he was not prepared for something like this, and didn’t know how to stop it. He was boiling in his skin, and unable to find any kind of relief. He shifted slightly, almost screaming in pain as his sensitive skin only transmitted pain into his brain. He could feel the pressure in his mind grow exponentially, knowing something must have burst as he felt liquid slide down him upper lip. Suddenly, with a jolt of pain that had him arching from his seat, he saw.
He saw.
The hum of a lightsaber buzzed through the ominous silence. One red as blood, the other as blue as the skies that used to sweep the expanse of the Alderaani landscape. The glow reflected on both men’s faces, the harsh black breathing mask illuminated with an evil gleam, Bobby’s rimmed in light, serene as he gazed at his executioner.
Words exchanged, one arrogantly triumphant, the other regretful and yet, a warning to his attacker. Words unheeded as blows rained down against the elegant blades, one trying to prove a point, yet for the other… a means to an end.
The outcome was unlike anything that could have been foretold, the evil had triumphed, slicing through the other man as if he was nothing, just the Faith-spectre he was no doubt going to become. The brown cloak, the only physical reminder of the Jedi, pooled upon the floor in smoldering ruin.
He had time for a choked cry as a wave of nausea engulfed him, the pain lanced his body as his thoughts scattered into the far recesses of his mind. Images flashed before his eyes, sounds of elegant blades clashing against each other, the screams of several dying-sent cold chills down his spine. He could hear his heart beating in his chest like the sound of many booted feet, and suddenly he saw Coruscant as it was before he was born, beautiful and yet so very terrible.
The march of several booted feet reverberated through the serene halls of the Jedi Temple like thunder. One lone soldier stood out from the rest, clothed in the inky black darkness that had engulfed his soul. His eyes burned with unholy fire, the reds and yellows that had consumed the warm brown eyes glowed in the shadows of his hood. Behind him, the disciples of the new order of the Galactic Host proudly marched in their pure white armor.
The Temple was silent, more a tomb for the souls housed inside. Deadly quiet, the soldiers moved through the grand entrance, and soon the music of blaster fire and screams filled the night.
He knew what they had done, knew how it could be so easy to destroy the ones that trusted them the most, murdering the helpless in their beds without any feeling whatsoever. They cut down every guard, lit fire to the sacred gardens, confiscating the prized documents as if the Jedi were the ones who were wrong. A lone image of a child gave him a beseeching look, his helpless comrades behind him in a circular training room. The look of trust quickly folded into horror and terror as the lightsaber before him was activated. He saw all, and so much more. He saw every child in that room cut down, unable to defend themselves against one so powerful in the force. He stared blindly at the ceiling, swamped with the images of the Jedi, murdered by the one person they trusted.
Tears had slipped out of the corners of his eyes, he couldn’t control what was happening, couldn’t stop the images from assaulting his mind. The visions swarmed his sight, the desert plains of Tattooine, the healing grasses of Naboo, and then suddenly fire. Fire, as a great man’s body was consumed, as the Temple was destroyed, of the lavas of Mustafar glowing in the distance. Brimstone assaulted his nose, and the images slowed to show him one last sight.
The lava river boiled underneath the young Sith, and Robert stood before him, clearly having the higher ground. Their battle was long, and hard-fought, the older Jedi was weary and heavy-hearted. Every step they had took, from Tattooine to now, had been a path to the Dark Side, though neither had wanted to admit it.
The new Sith knew hatred before meeting the Jedi, he knew suffering, and he knew unimaginable despair; both were to blame however, both were wounded beyond all measure, but neither one wanted to let the other in. So for their mistrust, their pain, a galaxy had fallen into darkness. Thousands of people had died-were dying-and nothing that the other could do could fix it. By killing the other, they knew that they would end the sorrow in their own personal universe.
The young Sith ignored his ex-mentor’s warning and jumped to attack. With great regret, the older Jedi sliced through his legs, cutting them off at the knee. The body tumbled to the ground, rolling to the river and stopped. They spoke to each other one last time; words filled with anger, hurt, and regret, before the Jedi left, unwilling to witness the death of his former student.
Castiel gasped, pulling deep breaths into his lungs as the visions suddenly stopped. As his sight cleared, he saw Jimmy’s worried face above him, his eyes wide and panicked. He gingerly maneuvered himself into a sitting position, and groaned as pain stabbed at his eyes and temples-though admittedly, not as bad as before. He swallowed with difficulty, “H-how long have I been-”
“Only a few minutes,” Jimmy interrupted to reassure. “Longest minutes of my life, but there you go.” He sat back on his heels, “Are you okay? You don’t…Don’t look okay.”
Castiel took another breath, “I will be fine, once we get to the ship. We have to move fast, I think-I think something is going to happen.”
Jimmy frowned, “How do you know?”
“I just do.”
Chuck3PO and BeckyD2 stood in an alcove near the ship, the bronze robot looking frantically around the hangar, “Where could they be? They should have been here by now.”
The other robot beeped in reply, and Chuck3Po shook his head, “I hope they didn’t get into any further trouble, Becky.”
Bobby hurried along the hallway leading to the Millennium Impala, unwilling to let his companions see what was to happen. He was doing this for his own purposes, he well knew, and knew that the Winchester boys would never forgive him this. No matter what he would have said in his defense, they wouldn’t have believed him. He had started this mess, he let it happen, and now he was going to fix it.
He could sense the other Jedi’s Faith-signature as easily as he used to so long ago, it saddened him to realize that the bond they used to share was just as strong as it used to be, after everything that had happened.
”It’s over, Zachariah,” Bobby threw his hands to the sides, deactivating his lightsaber, “I have the higher ground. There’s nothing you can do.” He was so very tired; the fighting, the games, everything-he just wanted it to end. If there was some way he could bring his friend back from the abyss he let himself fall into, he would do all in his considerable power to bring him back, even though by now it would be pointless.
“You have always underestimated me, my power…” His gray flesh, the shadows under his eyes, told Bobby that his friend, his brother, was lost. The evidence was such that it nearly brought Robert to his knees, and up until now, he couldn’t bear to think of the one person he trusted the most could possibly do the atrocities he had done. The once kind brown eyes darted around the landscape surrounding his former master, and Robert could see the calculation in that cold gaze.
With a sinking realization, Robert knew exactly what his apprentice was about to attempt, “Don’t do it, kid.”
Zachriah disregarded his warning-his impatience clouding his judgment-and flipped off the platform that hovered above the lava river. With a lightning quick motion, Robert sliced off his legs at the knee, and watched with regret weighing his heart as the body tumbled to the edge for the river.
“What did you do?! You stupid ass, you were one of us!” Robert yelled brokenly, the sight of that helpless body broke the dam he had set his emotions behind, “Going darkside was never something I would ever thought you capable of! We were going to bring balance to the Faith, and you just let it all slip away!”
He looked up as he sensed his former student, and faced the masked man who appeared down the hallway. He was unused to seeing him this way, how much he had changed. This was his apprentice, the boy he raised to manhood: his friend, his brother, and now, his executioner. His heart dropped in sadness as the younger man activated his lightsaber, and where once the blade was a pure blue light, it was now scarlet-red as the blood on his hands.
Bobby straightened and activated his own blade, the beautiful blue light that once filled him with hope and Faith only served to illuminate the hallway in a cold, bright light. He stepped forward slowly, noticing as Zayder did the very same thing.
Bobby could almost see the arrogant smirk the younger man wore, could sense it in his voice, “I have been waiting for this for a long time, old man. The circle is now complete, wouldn’t you say?”
Bobby just stared at the black-mask’s eyes-shifting into an offensive posture with a grace that belied his age-it was a simple movement, nothing as elaborate a stance as he used to make. His lightsaber hummed and crackled in wait as the other man dropped into a fighting stance, the red blade swinging elegantly in impatience. Zayder, or rather Zachariah, could never stand still before a fight. The helmet’s head cocked, “When I left the Jedi, I was but a learner. Now I am the master.”
Bobby snorted, “In your dreams, Zayder.”
The warriors stilled-each sizing the other up-waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The air seemed to vibrate, and Bobby’s lips thinned as he felt the pressure on his shoulders, so Zayder decided to fight dirty. Well, two can play at that little game, he thought. Bobby cracked his head from side to side, easily shoving the pressure away as if it were nothing.
The older man lunged, and brought his lightsaber up at the last moment to catch the lightning that arched from the bigger man’s hand. It was the same ploy that was used on his fellow Jedi commander, and Bobby was not about to fall for it. So the fight was on, each saber crashing against the other, each warrior gaining and losing ground equally. Bobby moved around the other man, quicker and faster than the lumbering gait of Zayder’s mechanical legs. If Zayder wasn’t nearly all-machine, Bobby would have had a harder-and perhaps, longer-time of it.
Bobby started inching his way backward into the hangar after quickly realizing their duel wouldn’t work well as a distraction to get the boys out of the Morning Star. They paused, Bobby noticed as a few soldiers nearby forgot their work and decided to watch an old man going up against their mighty master, which he was sure that by just the look of the absurd image, Zayder would grow angrier. It was all the more reason to play the scene as best as he could. He sent a prayer out into the Faith, hoping against everything that the boys were able to make it out alive.
Their lightsabers buzzed in the air as they circled each other. Zayder snarled, “Your abilities are weak, Robert.” It was almost as if the younger man was complaining slightly, but Bobby didn’t have the benefit of age at his disposal any longer, or a near mechanical body, as the other well-knew.
“You won’t win, Zayder,” Bobby said quietly, only for Zayder to hear, “You strike me down, I’ll become more powerful than you realize. Idgit.”
Idgit.
The one word that Zayder heard throughout his life as a Jedi, the one word that he detested above all others. Bobby knew that it would piss Zayder off to no end to hear it, even though that half the time he said it to him while they were partners, it was out of affection. It would incite the younger to fits of rage, and it served him well now to use it. The younger man snarled again, lunging for the old man and swinging the scarlet blade at his head, to be blocked by Bobby’s.
Dean and Sam leaned against the wall facing the massive hangar, and stared at the soldiers in bewilderment as they tried to catch their breath from running. They seemed to be watching something interesting, but for the life of him, the older Winchester couldn’t catch a glimpse. Dean panted, squinting over at his brother, “Didn’t we just leave this room? Like, not an hour ago?”
“Yeah,” Sam breathed, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans-covered thighs, “I know, right?”
Dean nodded at Jimmy as the young man and his twin approached the Winchesters, “What took you guys so long?”
Castiel frowned, “We got lost.”
Jimmy’s gaze flicked between Dean and his brother, and cleared his throat, “So… is the ship alright?”
Dean shrugged, “Should be, if we can get to it. I just hope Bobby was able to deactivate the tractor beam, or we are going to be hitting the wall as soon as we get out of here.”
Sam nodded, and then suddenly frowned, “Where is he anyway? I mean, we took long enough, right?”
Dean shook his head and shrugged-silently questioning the old man himself as a tightening in his gut let him know that something was very wrong.
The group inched closer to the ship, making sure that none of the soldiers could see them, it was easy since their attentions were focused on what they assumed was a fight. As they climbed the ramp to lead them into the ship, using the distraction behind them to ready the ship for take-off, Jimmy glanced over his shoulder and gasped in horror. He yanked on Dean’s sleeve to get his attention and pointed behind them, “Look!”
The group froze as the crowd parted minutely, revealing Bobby and Lord Zayder dueling. Their lightsabers crashed and whirled so fast, the blades became a blur to them. The Winchesters and Jimmy were equally surprised and bewildered, they never seen the old man fight, let alone with such grace and power.
Out of his peripheral vision, Jimmy could see the bronze sheen of Chuck3PO’s metal body approaching them from a nearby alcove, BeckyD2 following close behind. Chuck3PO cocked his head in question, and Jimmy shook his head and motioned them into the ship. With one last glance behind them, the droids followed their master’s bidding and shuffled quickly into the ship.
Dean moved forward to the end of the ramp, disregarding the restraining hand his brother put on his shoulder-there had to be a way to help his old friend. Bobby was more a father to him than their own; he deserved more than to be killed in front of an audience in the dirty hangar of massive battle station. His heart was in his throat as he watched the two dueling, he knew that there was no way all of them would make it out of there alive, and suddenly the bad feeling he felt ever since Bobby had left the control room an hour before came back anew.
“Oh no, no, no, no,” He chanted under his breath, taking another few steps closer to the large group. He felt Sam’s large hands settle once more on his shoulders, gently pulling him backward to the ship. Digging in his heels, his jaw clenching, he watched as Zayder swung his lightsaber downward and gasped as Bobby stopped it.
Bobby looked around him, eyes settling on Dean. I wished I could tell you why, he thought to the young man. His face relaxed, smiling softly at Dean horror-stricken face, and turned back to his opponent. Dean’s heart seized in his chest, the scream that bubbled up in his lungs froze in his throat as Bobby lifted his sword from Zayder’s, freeing the man to strike his killing blow.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion, a sight that was sure to haunt Dean’s dreams for the rest of his life. Bobby seemed to fade before his very eyes as Zayder let his saber descend, cutting the man in half. He could feel the slice just as if it happened to himself, and unexpectedly the scream he tried to contain echoed throughout the hangar.
“NO!”
Sam grunted as he picked his brother up when Dean tried to run to Bobby, and he ran toward the ship. He ignored the blaster fire that flew around them, and yelled the others to get into the ship. Jimmy stood there stunned, staring at the brown cloak in seeming betrayal until Castiel squeezed his shoulders, his white face spurring Jimmy into action.
As the brothers approached the ship, Sam set Dean down. Noticing how wide and tragic his eyes were, he shook his older brother, “Now is not the time for this, Dean. He didn’t die for us to be slaughtered right after. We have to get out of here.”
Dean slumped, and looked away. He knew his younger brother was right, knew that their only hope lie in Dean getting them out of the Morning Star and safely with the Rebel Hunters. Castiel knew where their encampment was, and would be able to direct them. At the thought of Castiel, of everything he had given up and what that the prince had gone through, he straightened. Nodding to his brother, he lifted his gun and shot at the troops, he could break later, when they weren’t in certain peril.
Jimmy stood at the opening of the ship, frozen in place as the brothers held off the soldiers, he was sure they wouldn’t be able to make it out alive if he didn’t help. He ran down the ramp, unholstered his blaster, and shot erratically at the troops, almost nauseous as he felt satisfaction as some of the men fell.
Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye and shouted, “Shoot the blast door, Jimmy! It will cut them off!”
Taking a deep breath, Jimmy quickly aimed his blaster and fired. He gasped as the panel exploded and the doors started to slid shut, effectively cutting Zayder and the troop off from the hangar. He growled as three soldiers managed to hurtle through the opening in the doors, feeling a thin trail of sweat traveling slowly down the side of his face as he tried to get a better aim. He didn’t want to kill them, but incapacitate them long enough to let them escape.
He didn’t know what possessed him to hiss sharply and walk down the ramp of the ship. His head cocked to the side as he lined his sight at the soldiers, and pulled continuingly on the trigger. His vision grayed as he took out his helplessness and rage on the lone soldiers. His body suddenly grew cold, his hands shook as he pulled the trigger three more times until the last soldier fell to the ground.
He could do nothing when his vision cleared, frozen to the spot as he realized what he just did. He couldn’t have killed those men; he didn’t have it in him to do something so horrible. What would Bobby have said if he saw what he did? Were those really the actions a Jedi would have taken? His breath came in pants as he stared at the carnage before him, feeling the bile rise in his throat.
Run, Jimmy! Get out of there!
Jimmy reared back as he heard the voice echo in his mind; it sounded so much like Bobby’s gruff voice that it made his breath hitch in his chest. He must have been in shock, there was no way he could hear Bobby so soon after his death-it wasn’t possible. His gaze darted around the hangar for any reason to explain the voice.
He shook himself, they were right, they had to leave and quickly if they were going to survive the next few hours. He could figure out later why he heard Bobby so clearly, although he could always chalk it up to a nervous breakdown. He nodded, that had to be it. He holstered his blaster in his utility belt, and ran back to the Millennium Impala. He thundered up the ramp and ducked his head as he felt hands on each shoulder to guide him through. The portal closed behind them, and Dean hurried down the short hallway towards the cockpit.
Sam gripped both of his shoulders, hunching down to Jimmy’s eye-level, asking quietly, “Are you going to be okay?”
Jimmy frowned as he nodded silently, completely taken by surprise as Sam’s grip firmed and jerked him once.
“I mean it, Jimmy. We need you now more than ever, and I have to know that we can count on you when the time comes.”
“Yes,” Jimmy bit out, “I’m fine.”
Sam’s lips quirked in a quick grin, “Good, ‘cause this looks like it’s going to be a bumpy ride.” He let go of Jimmy and quickly jogged down the same path his older brother made to join him in the cockpit. Jimmy glanced at his twin, who gazed back at him sympathetically. He shook his head, his large blue eyes watering, “I-I’m sorry, I thought-”
“No,” Castiel murmured, closing the last few steps between them and gripping his upper arms as the ship lurched, “You couldn’t control what came over you, just as I couldn’t. Don’t let this sorrow consume you, Jimmy. You did nothing wrong, you were only trying to get us out alive.”
Jimmy sighed, looking away, “I wish I could believe you.”
Dean’s lips thinned as he concentrated on powering the ship, and glanced at his younger brother who settled into the seat beside him. He went through the motions of powering up the ship robotically, they had done this so many times before that they moved in sync, in perfect harmony. Their fingers flicked the switches and angled the levers so quickly it was like breathing.
Dean could hear the soft voices behind him, in the hallway, and knew the twins were talking about the events in the hangar. Really, what he wanted to do at that moment was to scream until his voice gave out, beat against the wall until his hands shattered, rub the image out of his eyes until he couldn’t see anything. He shook his head sharply, swallowing hard to ease the tightness in his chest. Not now, don’t do this now, you can’t-
“Don’t think about it, dude,” Sam said quietly, “not now. We can’t do this now. After we get the prince and his brother to where they need to be, that’s when we’ll take a break from all of this.”
Dean frowned, angling the ship quickly out of the hangar, “I wasn’t thinking about anything Sammy.”
Sam sighed, and from the corner of his eye he could see his younger brother clench his hands around the navigator in a white-knuckled grip, “Dude, I’ve learned every look on your face since I was a baby. I know when you’re feeling-”
“Sammy. Shut up.”
The silence in the cockpit was thick as they shot out of the Morning Star, neither brother willing to speak about what had just happened, especially since the Galactic Host was on their trail.
Jimmy was slumped at the table in the min living area of the ship as he went through the events that day in his mind. He kept rifling through every action, trying to find the one thing he could have done differently to stop Bobby from dying so horribly. His shoulders slumped, and his hands plunged through his thick, dark hair. It was hopeless, anything that he could have done would have resulted in his or someone else’s death.
And speaking of-
Three men died today, because of Jimmy. He was sure that there were more, he couldn’t be so naïve that it was only so few that died, but it was because of him that made him feel-
He really wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, these men served the very people that killed his aunt and uncle, just for buying two droids. They didn’t know that the droids held secret plans of their battle station. On the other, they were only following orders, and Jimmy couldn’t be sure they were the very same men that killed two innocent people.
It sickened him to think he had blood on his hands that no amount of prayer, or atonement would ever wash off.
Castiel watched from the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, more support for his aching body than comfort. He ached to see the disgusted, ashamed look on Jimmy’s face, and wished will all he had-what he had left to give-that Jimmy did not have to go through this pain.
And wasn’t that the curious thing?
A few hours ago, he knew that he was an only son, and now-well now, he was a twin. They shared blood, genetics-and if he wanted to be idealistic-a soul. He couldn’t help feeling the way he did, if he had a choice, he would choose this closeness every time. For too long he had felt as if something was missing, a lost piece, that no matter who he was surrounded with-or what-it never took away that empty feeling.
Now, to see that his brother lost in his own hell-a hell of his own making, granted-Castiel wasn’t about to just stand back and watch. He propelled himself off of his lean, looking around for a blanket, or something that would be able to stop Jimmy’s shaking. His eyes fell on an old, worn blanket tossed haphazardly on a chair nearby, and made a small triumphant noise in his throat. Grabbing the blanket and walking over to his brother, he slid in the seat beside him, wrapping the warm fabric around Jimmy’s shoulders.
He kept his arms around his twin, “How are you?”
Jimmy shook his head, and breathed, “I can’t believe Bobby’s is gone. One minute he was there, fighting Zayder so skillfully, and the next… gone.”
“There was nothing you could have done, Jimmy. I suspect he knew what was going to happen all along, and made peace with it, you should as well.”
Jimmy leaned back, and shot a look at Castiel, “Don’t let Dean hear you say that. You should have seen him, Cas. It was horrible.”
Before Castiel could respond, Dean barreled into the main area, startling both brothers. He looked rather alarmed, his green eyes wide, “Hey Jim, ol’ buddy. We got some bogeys on our tail, need your help.”
The twins shared a look, and Jimmy shrugged, “What do I have to do?”
Dean grunted, “We don’t actually have time for this-”
Castiel stood, and gave Dean a haughty look, “Explain, and we might help you.”
“Might?” Dean shifted backwards, a little surprised. As the prince nodded, he rolled his eyes, “Well princess, the Galactic Host are after us, with a major hate-on. We have to kill them before they kill us. Is that enough of an explanation for you?”
Castiel pursed his lips at the insult, and turned to look at his twin. Jimmy was pale and his hands were shaking, there was no way he would be able to hold it together to get them through the barrage the Host were no doubt about to put them through. Making a quick decision, the prince turned back to Dean, “I’ll help you.”
“You?” Dean snorted, “Excuse me for asking, but are you a good enough shot? We can’t afford for you princely sensibilities to get into the way.”
“Point me in the direction of your gun-port, and I’ll show you just what my ‘princely sensibilities’ can do.”
Dean motioned behind him, “After you.”
The twins separated, Jimmy going to the cockpit to help Sam maneuver the ship, while Castiel settled into the opposite gun-port from Dean. He fitted the headset that would allow them to be able to communicate with each other over his ears, and adjusted the microphone attached to it as close to his mouth as he could get it.
He relaxed into the leather bucket seat of the laser turret, and curled his long-fingered hands around the controls. The slightest shift of his body, a flick of his wrist, would rotate the turret to its desired location. He took only a moment to test it, before quickly righting the gun-port back to its original position.
He blinked as he heard Dean’s scratchy baritone in his ear, “You in, Cas?”
Quirking a smile, Castiel answered, “Yes. How close are they?”
“To the left and closing in fast.”
He could hear a soft scratching noise, then Sam’s voice barked into his ear, “Left, 2 o’clock!”
Castiel flicked his wrists, noting in satisfaction how responsive the controls were. The Millennium Impala may look old and beaten up, but the ballistic upgrades more than made up for the look. He saw them closing in, squinting slightly as he squeezed the trigger. He wasn’t prepared for the cannon’s kick-back, but as he saw one of the enemy ships exploding, he couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face.
He was glad that he was tutored in piloting a ship, and nearly ecstatic as he was taught how to fire all the various weaponry certain ships were equipped with.
“Dude,” Dean intoned good-naturedly, “I can’t believe you got the first one.”
“Skill,” Castiel chuckled.
“I call ‘bull-shit’,” Sam laughed.
The Galactic Host proceeded to fire upon the Millennium Impala, and the prince silently cheered that the ship was blessed reinforced. The damage the ship took was minimal, and neither one of the Winchester brothers were concerned. He could hear Dean grumbling about his ‘baby’, and Sam assuring him that they would be able to get her outsides repaired, before all sound ceased. The time for concentration was nigh.
He saw another ship exploding, to his right, and knew that Dean managed to shoot down another ship. From what he could gather, there were at least three more lurking around the ship, trying their damndest to damage the ship enough to either incapacitate them or kill them. The two men decided quickly that their best course of action would be to aim at the same target, thus culling the herd quickly and without further damage to the ship.
In the next few minutes, Dean and Castiel moved in harmony, firing at the enemy targets as they grew close. The prince couldn’t explain how they managed to do so, neither one or the other knew what the other could see or was doing, but there were only a few times in which Dean would have to instruct Castiel where to fire.
The ship jerked suddenly, sending Castiel careening around, momentarily losing his equilibrium. Jimmy cursed, “The lateral controls are out.”
“Don’t worry, my baby will hold together,” Dean stated firmly, and Castiel could almost see his nod of confirmation.
Just as he said this, the last three TIE fighters started to attack in earnest. They quieted, and tracked each ship as they flew by, taking them out one by one. Finally there was only one left, making a last ditch effort to take out the Millennium Impala, it swooped closer and fired at the ship. Dean and Castiel swerved to aim, waiting until it got closer to them before firing. As it got close enough for them to see the Galactic insignia, they pulled their respective triggers. With a shower of burning fragments, it exploded, and the Millennium Impala shuddered from the after math before settling.
Castiel ripped the headset off of his head as the speakers nearly blew with the sound of their joyful cheering, and left the gun-port to meet up with his brother whom he was sure was waiting for him in the hallway. Sure enough, as soon as he climbed down from the turrets, he was crushed in Jimmy’s arms. He gasped in pain and stiffened sharply, he nearly forgot how much he put his body through that day.
“Oh god!” Jimmy let him go quickly, leaning him up against the wall, cringing as he took in his brother’s suddenly white face, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”
Castiel held up a hand, “I’m f-fine. I just…It would be better if I had a chance to clean the wounds, the garbage chute wasn’t the best place to be after-that.”
Dean jumped down from his ladder and faced the twins, “Castiel’s right, any nick could get infected from being in that place for too long.” He nodded his head down the hallway, “The refresher unit is the only door off of the main hold, you can’t miss it. There are fresh towels in the cupboard, and I’ll look for some better clothes for you. Nothing too fashionable, but they’ll keep you until we get you where you need to be.”
Castiel blinked, unused to the abrasive man being so kind, “I-thank you, Dean.”
The other man winked, giving him a grin that told the prince exactly why the other man got on his nerves, “Don’t mention it.”
Castiel scoffed in disgust and walked away stiffly, his haughty storm-off made less of an impact at the slight limp of his right leg. Nevertheless, the prince didn’t look back, and held his head high until he approached the door to the refresher unit and went inside.
Dean chuckled, “Your bro’s got some backbone, Jimmy.” He cocked his head slightly, and glanced at the other man, “Whaddya think?”
Jimmy cocked a dark eyebrow, “Depends on what you’re asking.”
The smuggler shrugged, folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, “You know-a prince and a guy like me…”
Jimmy made a face as the older Winchester trailed off with a wistful look on his face, staring after the prince, “He’s my brother.”
“And?”
“And that means he’s off limits.” Jimmy copied Dean’s stance, somehow less intimidating as he had to look up at Dean to meet him in the eyes.
As the door to the refresher until shut behind him, Castiel sighed and slumped against the cool metal. The hum of the ship was the only thing he could hear in the small room, and the tightness that he felt in his shoulders and neck drained away with hearing that sound. His eyes cracked open after a few blissful moments of silence to survey the compact room. There was a cabinet to his right, which he assumed held a few towels and other various hygiene products. In front of him was the sonic shower cubicle, the frosted glass door rolled back to reveal a clean tiled interior. At his left, stood the sink and the mirrored medicine cabinet, an overall simple but clean compartment.
He cringed to see the bruises darkening on his pale face in the small mirror, and groaned as the small movement from that alone made his head throb. He hissed as he straightened and took off his outer robe, the small cloth fibers sticking to the wounds on his back. He walked to the shower cubicle, and turned on the water as hot as he could stand it; the steam billowed forth and filled the room quickly.
He swiftly undressed and carefully folded the rest of his clothing, laying them on a bench sitting just underneath the small cabinet. Despite the warmth in the room, he started shaking from a sudden chill and stepped quickly into the cubicle and rolled the door closed behind him. He groaned in relief as the hot water washed away the grime and dried blood from his skin, relaxing his sore muscles and easing the sharp headache that had started to blossom. Castiel closed his eyes and stood under the spray, willing his limbs to stop shaking.
His darkened sight gave him no respite however, as the image of his parents bloomed forth in his mind. Cutting off a harsh cry, he wiped his face harshly. He couldn’t do this, not yet, not before he did what he was charged to do.
“We trust you, Castiel,” He could hear his father’s gentle voice echoing in his mind, “We trust you to get the plans safely to Robert Singer, to request his aid. He is the only one who can help us now.”
“Father,” He spoke softly, glancing around the assembled group that was to see him off, “I don’t know if I should be the one to get those plans. I’m a senator, not a spy, these plans are too important for someone like me to retrieve them.”
His father’s weathered face split into a bright smile, “Have faith, my son. As I have in you, believe in your abilities to see this through.”
“No, please,” He whimpered. He shook his head quickly, resolutely refusing to torture himself further. He would deal with this guilt and pain when he saw the Morning Star destroyed, and not before. He choked as endless images of the people he sworn to protect filtered through his mind: his mother, his tutors, the loyal servants, young men, women, children; an endless array of people that had died because he failed to protect them.
“They trusted you, Castiel.”
He gasped; he could never mistake Zayder’s oily melodic voice for anyone else. He looked around, wiped the condensation off the door at the insane thought that somehow the Sith commander stole his way onto the ship. Even though he knew it wasn’t possible, there was no other way to explain how it was that he could hear him.
”Has it not occurred to that there is a simple explanation as to why you can hear me, little prince?”
He panted, shaking his head as he stared blindly forward, as if the man could materialize in front of him, “No-no, I can’t hear you. This is a nervous breakdown, a psychotic episode. This is shock from being held captive and tortured. You can’t hear him. You can’t hear him.”
Zayder laughed darkly, and Castiel almost gagged at the sound, “We are more alike than you care to think. You, me… Jimmy.”
His eyes welled up, and in a small voice he whispered, “No.”
“Oh, yes.” Castiel swayed, and he threw up his hand to keep himself balanced as Zayder continued, “I was rather surprised to see Jimmy, I really wasn’t expecting that. But I’ll forgive you for not telling me that you have a brother, a twin, just this once. He is rather powerful for a desert rat.”
“You know nothing about him. Leave him alone, your fight is with me.”
“Oh, you lost your ability to sway my hand long before this, prince,” Castiel could hear the dark threat in his voice. There was such sinister promise in that voice, “Such raw power for one so young, just like you. So easy to manipulate, so easy to coax him to the Dark Side…he would be the best pupil I think I ever had.”
“Don’t try it.” Castiel growled; he would be damned all over again if he let Zayder do as he planned.
“Do or do not, there is no try, young one. You would know that if you tried your hand at focusing on your abilities instead of defending the Rebel Hunters. All that work, and you have nothing to show for it, your family is dead, your home-world is destroyed, and you led your twin to my attention. Bravo. Oh, and your threat? I will do as I please, with you and your brother.” Castiel could hear the pause, “I guess I have you to thank for bringing him to my attention. You have been so very-helpful. See you on the other side…son.”
His heart pounded in his chest, no…it couldn’t be, he couldn’t be the son of someone so evil. And how was it possible? He couldn’t breathe, the confined space only served to make him believe that the walls were closing in on him. It was the garbage chute all over again, with no Dean Winchester to hold onto like a lifeline. He supposed that the information shouldn’t have come as such a shock; he looked nothing like his parents.
He fell to his knees, hugging himself tightly as it all became so clear to him. It explained why Zayder was hunting him down, how he seemed to get under his skin so easily, how easy it was for them to be able to communicate so easily now even so far away. He couldn’t muster the hurt or anger that he had been lied to all of his life, after all, he killed his family. What was a lie compared to that?
Dean walked toward the refresher unit after he found some old clothing that he thought might fit the slender royal. He was surprised to see the emergency light blinking, either the prince had a horrible accident that Dean really didn’t want to know about, or something was very wrong. His brow furrowed as he pushed the button to open the door, wondering why the hell the prince couldn’t see the light and act accordingly. Was he just having too good of a time in the shower?
He steeled his nerve, and walked through the door, gasping at the temperature inside the refresher unit. For someone that had been taking a shower for the past forty minutes, it was awfully cold in there. Space was cold, no matter what kind of heating system was installed in the ship in question, and even though he loved the Millennium Impala almost as much as he loved his brother, she was old and could do with some better upgrading. His eyes fell on the shower door and spared the first rush of anger he felt at seeing that the glass was not just cracked, but punched through when he saw the hunched figure huddled in the corner of the tiny cubicle. The shower door was a minor thing compared to well-being of the prince; the ruined glass was just another thing to add to the list of repairs, which seemed to get longer the more time he spent with the twins.
He shoved that all away guiltily as he heard the breathy noises emerging from the shower, he would have time to bitch about it later, after he figured out what was going on. He stepped over the glass shards easily, cringing as they crunched underneath his boot heels like dry twigs. The shower water was like icy needles against his exposed skin, chilling his exposed flesh as it seeped into his clothes.
He sighed as he imagined how the prince was feeling right about now, he’d been where the royal was and only a short time ago, however Dean was very much alone when he took a little walk out of his head while in the shower. Even though it wasn’t exactly his brother’s fault at wanting something more out of life and left to go to the Academy, he couldn’t help the feeling of abandonment.
He twisted the knob to turn the water off, shaking a little from his lowered body temperature. If he was cold, then the prince had to be freezing. He crouched in front of the huddled figure to gauge his response, of which there was none, his large vacant blue eye were dull and listless. He cursed, and grabbed the robe that he brought with him out of sheer impulse, suddenly glad of that spontaneous action, the prince needed to be covered up to keep the little body heat he had left. Gathering the small figure in his arms, he wrapped the thick cloth around him, cinching it closed around his tapered waist.
Forty damn minutes he was left alone in the shower, Dean had to get him the hell out of there and someplace warm. Standing up in the cubicle while holding his light bundle was easy, but as he turned to walk out he growled in annoyance. With a swift and hard kick, he shattered the rest of the glass that was still clinging to its fastenings. It was already ruined; everyone would just have to deal with not having a door to the shower until he could get it fixed.
He laid Castiel down on the padded bench, under his supply cabinet and next to the heating vent that was carefully concealed, and walked over to the control panel next to the door. He punched a few buttons to crank the heat in the little room, exhaling in relief as he could feel the temperature climbing. He turned back to the prince, gathering his small bundle in his arms and gently chafing his chilled limbs.
“Come on Cas,” He pleaded, gently nudging his shoulder, “Damn it, you’ve got to wake up.”
He smiled as he felt a foot twitch, glad that his efforts were garnering the desired results. He wasn’t ready however, for the prince to suddenly awaken with a loud gasp, nearly kicking him in the face as he scrambled away from Dean. Castiel sat back on his hands, panting as he looked around the room frantically, “A-am I still-What happened? How did you-”
“Hey, hey,” Dean crooned softly, slowly inching his way toward him, making small movements so as not to spook the prince, “Calm down, you’re okay now.” He sat down next the prince, maybe a little closer than was normal, but he figured that he must have done something right since Castiel didn’t shuffle away again. He looked into the prince’s cloudy eyes carefully, “You okay there, Cas?”
The prince looked away, and scrubbed at his face with his hands, “I-yes. I’m fine now.”
The pilot snorted, “You don’t look it.” In fact, a thin stream of blood wound its way down the side of Castiel’s face from a small cut on his forehead. Dean cradled the prince’s head in his rough smuggler’s hands, gently angling it to where he could see the cut clearly, hissing at how jagged it was.
He marveled at the trust the prince displayed, Dean was a stranger after all and could easily kill him if he really wanted to. Castiel was one of those people that had such a helpless look, even underneath there was a strength that most would have been lucky to possess, and so brave to stay calm after everything that had happened. It wasn’t every day that someone was imprisoned and tortured for information by the Galactic Host. Castiel was so many things wrapped up in an enigmatic little package that didn’t cease to turn Dean’s crank. The older Winchester sighed, “Yeah, I’m going to have to clean that. You’re lucky you don’t have a concussion.”
After a short silence, Dean could feel the atmosphere in the small room change drastically, a type of charge in the air that Dean knew quite well. Dean’s eyes flicked down to Castiel’s slightly parted lips, and gulped, “I-I think I need to get you onto the bench…”
The prince said nothing, only nodded. Dean grinned slightly, he really shouldn’t get into this little moment they were currently having, because it would lead to…very bad things. Even though the prince was such a tempting sight: damp hair disheveled and sticking up wildly, the well-worn robe covering all the interesting bits but leaving enough for Dean’s wild imagination, soft lips parted and panting, his darkened eyes at half-mast. It was enough to make Dean need to have a couple strong brews, his mouth was so dry.
Dean shook himself after a few moments; it was really time to get to the job at hand, even if he was tempted beyond belief. The prince was seriously pushing every single one of Dean’s buttons; and all at once. He bit his lip in sudden guilt; here was a person-an innocent person-that needed his help, and all he could think about was how he would look out of that robe. He helped the prince stand, pausing as the slight man stumbled and grabbed Dean’s upper arms, and suddenly Dean was back in the garbage chute. Only this time their respective brothers weren’t there to stop them. This time they were alone.
They gazed into each other’s eyes once more-their breaths mingled between their parted lips-their hearts pounding in tandem as the room heated. Only one move, one small move, and Dean would finally be able to lick those dry lips. One moment-two- and then the spell was broken as Castiel regained his balance, easing out of the intense embrace they found themselves in. Dean wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, he was so sure that Castiel was about to-or at least wanted to-kiss him.
Dean blinked rapidly as he opened the cabinet door for a small towel, and eased the other man onto the bench. He hurried to the sink and dampened the towel with warm water, then went back to kneel before the prince. He tenderly wiped away the blood from Castiel’s forehead, crooning softly as he dabbed at the wound, knowing full-well how that had to sting like a bitch. He didn’t see the prince’s face soften as he looked at the smuggler, nor did he see how his own lips parted as he squinted at the cut, he was focusing so hard at healing the cut that it was a shock to feel Castiel’s fingertips brush his jaw.
Dean couldn’t exactly explain just how it happened; first he was cleaning that small wound, and then he was gazing into Castiel’s wet eyes before he looked away, too ashamed to let the smuggler know he was hurt more than just physically. Dean knew that lost expression, had seen it too many times in the mirror, and ached to wipe that pain away. He made a small sound as a stray tear fell from Castiel’s eye, and gently wiped it away. Their eyes locked, and suddenly they were passionately kissing. He groaned as Castiel kissed him back immediately, throwing himself fully into the slide of their lips. It suddenly didn’t matter that Castiel was royalty and pretty much off-limits to someone like himself, there was something about him that just drew the Winchester like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t resist Castiel’s pull and wasn’t really sure if he wanted to.
He lightly flicked his tongue against Castiel’s bottom lip, groaning at the taste, and wrapped his arms around the prince’s trim waist to pull him closer. Castiel gasped, parting his lips as the smuggler nipped gently, begging entry. With a whimpered moan, the prince plunged his hand into Dean’s closely cropped hair, cupping the back of his head as he opened his mouth to Dean’s questing tongue. Dean’s hips bucked into the prince as he felt the light scratch of his fingernails against his scalp, good god it was like the prince knew everywhere that would send Dean straight to the moon, and they hardly had a chance to spend any time alone. How was it possible that they were able to sink so easily into each other? The intensity alone was enough to send Dean’s mind whirling, the prince’s single-minded focus would have alarmed him at any other time, but for now it just served to send him into a higher state of arousal.
Reluctantly pulling back to allow both of them to breathe, Dean gently nipped along Castiel’s jaw, finally laving at the small spot of skin just below his right ear. Castiel hissed through his teeth, his heart thumping wildly as one of the smuggler’s rough hands slipped from around his waist, and slowly slid up his thigh underneath the robe. The prince cried out as he threw his head back, and clutched Dean tighter, panted hard as Dean softly sucked on his pulse.
They froze as they heard a shocked voice suddenly cry, “Get off my brother!”
Chapter Five