Fic: A Bird May Love A Fish (SPN, Sam/Gabriel, Sam/Castiel, Dean/Gabriel) Part 1/2
Title: A Bird May Love A Fish
Pairings: Sam/Gabriel, Sam/Castiel, Dean/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~14900
Disclaimer: Neither the characters of supernatural, nor the various fairytale themes and references used in this fic belong to me.
Summary: Sam leads as unremarkable a life as is possible for a huntsman in a magical kingdom to have. But when his fairy godfather shows up to send him to the royal ball and he meets a prince, he starts wondering if maybe his destiny lies somewhere else.
A/N: Written for virtualpersonal who generously donated to help_nz. I’ve taken an awfully long time on this but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Many thanks to mintyfiend for betaing. Title is from the movie Ever After
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, Sam Winchester was bored.
It had been a quiet few weeks. Ever since the dragon slaying incident, most of the trolls and ogres, witches and warlocks, gremlins and goblins that plagued the land were behaving themselves. Word had obviously spread that the Winchesters were not to be messed with. Which was a nice change, but it had been a long time since they’d had to rescue a damsel in distress. And, as nice as the kingdom was, there wasn’t much else for a huntsman to do.
The door to their cottage slammed open and then slammed closed again. Sam tensed automatically, then relaxed when he saw his brother Dean, fellow huntsman and all around pain-in-Sam’s-ass, saunter in.
“Guess what I’ve got?” Dean said, waving a piece of parchment and grinning from ear to ear.
Sam perked up. “Another job?” he asked, hopefully.
This was generally how they found work- parchments nailed to trees, asking for someone to sort out a particularly nasty monster problem or rescue one of the more obscure princesses that the kingdom seemed to be overflowing with. If they were lucky, there was a reward offered. And if they were even luckier, people actually paid the reward after they’d done the job.
“Even better,” Dean said, slapping it down on the table.
Sam leaned in and read.
Royal Masquerade Ball and Buffet, it said.
His Royal Highness, Prince Gabriel, requests the presence of the Huntsman who did save our fair kingdom from the fierce and terrible dragon that plagued our fair land.
Dress is formal, and masks are required.
Dean punched Sam in the shoulder.
“I’m going!” he said, looking way too gleeful for someone who usually got their kicks from hacking monsters to pieces. “I’m going to a Royal Buffet! And you know what that means? Good eats. And maybe some pretty girls,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“You mean we’re going,” Sam corrected, then frowned when Dean shook his head.
“Sorry, Sammy,” he said, not looking the least bit sorry at all. “Invite doesn’t say anything about plus ones. Besides, we’ve only got one nice cloak between us and since the hand that’s holding the invite,” he added, snatching the parchment back off the table, “is the hand that finally silenced that dragon’s fearful roar, looks like I’ve got a party to get ready for.”
Sam scowled. Technically, Dean was right. Technically. Sam had been so close to slaying the dragon, but his foot had slipped on the gravel, sending down a hail of pebbles. The dragon had woken, its giant tail sweeping in and slamming him against the wall. Winded, he’d tossed his sword to Dean, who had ducked in and dealt the final blow.
Team work. That was their gimmick, that’s what kept them alive when so many huntsmen had died or given up the life. Normally they didn’t compete when it came to kills, other than the occasional joking comment about who was the better huntsman. Until something shiny came along, apparently. Sam pouted.
“You can go next time,” Dean said, clapping Sam on the shoulder and earning a warning look in return.
Sam carried on pouting while Dean got ready for the ball, humming to himself as he did.
He scowled as Dean stood by the door, putting on their one good cloak. They’d never needed fine things before- the life of a huntsman didn’t exactly lend itself to interacting with fine society- but they’d rescued a rich but idiotic young man who’d refused to pay them afterwards. Sam suspected it had been a long, cold walk home for him, without the clothes that they’d bundled up and brought home with them in lieu of payment.
“Still sulking?” Dean asked, tying on what was obviously a hastily made mask consisting of an old silk scarf with two holes cut out of it. When Sam didn’t respond to his question, Dean shrugged and stepped through the door.
“I hope it sucks,” Sam said, following after him.
“Don’t wait up,” Dean said smugly over his shoulder. “I plan on getting lucky.”
Sam glared at his retreating back, then turned on his heel and stomped inside. He waited until the sound of hooves faded into the distance and then he trudged back to the kitchen table. He sat down heavily.
“This is so unfair!” Sam complained to himself. “I wish I could go to the ball.”
“And so you shall,” said a voice behind him.
Sam was up and on his feet, knife drawn from his boot, in half a heartbeat.
“Who are you?” Sam demanded, keeping his eyes on the intruder but quickly noting everything in the room he could use as a weapon. “What are you? And how did you get in here?”
The man stared at him, looking unimpressed. He had a sort of dishevelled look about him, and his clothes were rumpled, his neckerchief sloppily loosened.
“Why don’t you put the knife down, Sam,” the man said. He sounded uninterested, rather than threatening, which made Sam even more suspicious.
“I think I’ll keep hold of it, thanks,” Sam replied and the man sighed and lifted his hand. He twitched it slightly and Sam’s hand was suddenly empty, the knife magically appearing on the table, fully sheathed.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a witch!” he exclaimed, lunging forward, intending to knock the man down for long enough to find a bucket of water to melt him with or an oven or canyon to push him into.
But his fist didn’t connect with anything- the man suddenly wasn’t there anymore, and Sam found himself falling to the floor with a crash.
There was a loud sigh behind him.
“Get up, Sam,” the man said. “If you stop trying to kill me, I’ll explain who I am.”
Sam pushed himself to his feet, reluctantly holding up his palms in a sign of surrender.
“Fine,” he said. “Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Castiel,” said the man. “And I’m your fairy godfather.”
Sam stared at him. “You’re my what?”
“Your fairy godfather,” Castiel repeated calmly. “Which means-”
“I know what it means,” Sam interrupted. “But I don’t have one. Fairy godmothers -and fathers, I guess- are for princesses and people like that. Important people.”
“Not really, everyone’s got one,” Castiel said, matter of fact. “But mostly it doesn’t pay to go around answering the wishes of just anyone. More publicity with the royal cases. Easier to get sponsorship deals, or at least a small castle of your own from the grateful princess.”
“And you don’t care about publicity and sponsorship?” Sam asked, immediately suspicious again. Years of hunting had taught him to trust no one and that nothing came without a price.
Castiel shrugged. “Not really. Technically we’re supposed to come if you wish for something hard enough, but we can ignore it if it’s not too urgent. Today I had nothing better to do. You called, I answered.”
Sam stared at Castiel for a long moment, then sat down, motioning for Castiel to do the same, across the table from him. Sam rested his hand a few inches from the knife that Castiel had magicked there, just in case.
“How long have you been watching over me?” Sam asked.
“Since birth,” Castiel said, and Sam raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that.
“Except I’ve been busy,” Castiel continued. “So I haven’t checked in on you properly in some time.”
“You’ve been busy?” Sam repeated, feeling mildly offended. He thought of all of the times he could have used a bit of magic on his side, to keep from being almost eaten by trolls or dying in some equally horrific way, and frowned.
“People forget fairy godparents don’t just sit around and wait to be needed. We have lives to live and every so often we get a...political situation amongst ourselves that requires our attention. We had a rough patch recently but things have started to simmer down. So I heard you call me.”
“I didn’t-”
“You made a wish,” Castiel explained. “It came through loud and clear. And so I am here to make it come true.”
Sam stared at him. “You’re here to send me to a ball?”
Castiel nodded. “Yes. I’ll conjure you up a costume and a carriage, and you’ll have a wonderful time,” he said, obviously trying to sound enthusiastic and failing.
“Uh, okay?” Sam agreed, still sceptical. He wasn’t sure he trusted this guy.
Castiel stood up and pulled what was obviously a wand out of the sleeve of his coat. It was purple and sparkly and had a star on the top. Sam had to try very hard not to laugh.
Castiel gave Sam a warning glare, them muttered something under his breath.
Instantly Sam was surrounded by a swirl of twinkling lights, so bright he had to close his eyes. When he opened them, he found himself clothed in a fancy suit, a mask lying on the table beside the knife.
“What was that you said?” Sam asked, after he’d taken a good look at himself.
“Nothing,” Castiel said, but Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Come on,” he said. “You can tell me. Was it a spell?”
Castiel seemed to hesitate, then nodded.
“Only one thing works for answering wishes,” he said, then reluctantly added, “Bippity-boppety-boo,” as quickly as possible.
Sam burst out laughing, and laughed even harder when Castiel admitted that they were supposed to sing it.
“But I’m not going to,” he added, looking even more serious than he’d done before.
Before Sam could say anything else, Castiel hurried on.
“You’ll need a carriage to take you to the ball,” he said, walking out of the cottage and into the barn beside it, Sam hot on his heels.
Castiel surveyed the old cart they used whenever Dean wouldn’t let Sam use the carriage he’d lovingly restored after a particularly lucrative princess rescue. It was Dean’s pride and joy and so of course he’d taken it with him to the ball, probably hoping to use it to pick up a young princess or duchess.
“This will do,” Castiel said, pointing at the old cart, then at two of the pigs they kept in the barn to ensure they never ran out of bacon.
Castiel gave another swish of his wand as he said, “Bippety, boppity, boo,” and they immediately transformed into a fancy carriage and two horses.
“Thanks,” Sam said, helping to harness the horses. He looked down at himself, then at the carriage, thinking how much better than Dean he would look when he strolled into the ball.
A thought occurred to him.
“You said everyone has a fairy godparent, right?” Sam asked, and Castiel nodded. “What about Dean? Does he have one?”
Castiel made an unimpressed noise. “Sometimes, the fairy godparent you’re assigned turns out to be an ass,” he said. “Like Zachariah. Dean is probably better off without him. And without knowing about me,” he added with a meaningful look.
Sam nodded, even though he was pretty sure he’d end up telling Dean eventually. Especially in case this all backfired and Castiel wasn’t really his fairy godfather and was a witch in disguise, trying to kill them all. But he wouldn’t tell Dean tonight. Tonight he was going to go to the ball and have a good time. And hopefully bug Dean in the process.
“Well,” Castiel said gruffly. “You should go, your carriage awaits.”
Sam nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat, taking the reins.
“Remember,” Castiel said. “The spell will wear off at midnight, so be home by then, otherwise you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”
Sam frowned. “Isn’t the carriage supposed to turn into a pumpkin?”
“Not the way I do spells,” Castiel said, and waved Sam off.
~~~
Sam had no trouble getting into the ball without an invite. He’d had plenty of practice sneaking in places while they’d been on hunting jobs, and besides, when you turn up looking as good- and probably more importantly, as rich- as Sam did, no one was going to question you.
He dodged the grand staircase, where people were being announced, to save having to come up with a false identity. On the far side of the room he could see the prince, surrounded by his courtiers, being introduced one by one to a line of eager young women.
Sam slipped into the throng of dancers and people milling around. He joined a few conversations but found himself almost immediately bored. The aristocracy appeared to have much less pressing concerns than Sam and Dean had in their daily lives. They worried about having enough food during the winter, but the duke Sam was currently talking to was only concerned whether his wife’s next gift would be gold or jewels.
As politely as possible, Sam excused himself and started to look around for his brother. He had no plans to let Dean know he was there, but the ball was much less exciting than he’d hoped it would be, and at least Dean could be counted on to provide some entertainment, especially with a little of Sam’s help.
He spotted his brother easily- his entire life had been spent following his brother’s lead, learning from him. He could recognise that swagger anywhere.
As Sam watched, Dean approached a girl with blonde ringlets and a fan that she used to hide her face as she giggled in Dean’s direction. Sam had witnessed enough of Dean’s pick up techniques to imagine how he was trying to charm the young princess.
After a few minutes, Dean dropped into a low bow, pressing a kiss to the girl’s hand, then turned to walk to a nearby punch bowl.
Sam found he couldn’t help himself from butting in. He crossed the room quickly, pausing casually beside the young lady.
“Were you just talking to that gentleman?” Sam asked, keeping his voice low.
The girl looked up at him, and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “He’s so poised and handsome.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “And,” he said, “cursed. From what I hear, if you kiss him, he’ll turn into a frog. With warts and stuff.”
“Ew!” the princess exclaimed, looking revolted.
Sam blended back into the crowd, returning to his previous vantage point. He watched the blonde turn away abruptly when Dean approached, hurrying towards a group of girls. Dean looked surprised, then concerned as he watched her whisper to her friends, who all cast disgusted looks at Dean.
As Sam watched, Dean shrugged, moving swiftly on from his loss. He looked around the room, eyes lighting on the buffet table. Food had started to dwindle as the hours passed, and there was only one piece of pie remaining on the silver platters. Cherry, Dean’s favourite.
Dean made a beeline for it, trying to dodge the dancers who whirled and spun across the dance floor.
Sam looked at the piece of pie. It was barely six strides away, but he hesitated. It was probably too mean, to cockblock Dean and then take his pie too. It wasn’t a very brotherly thing to do.
And then he remembered Dean’s smug grin, telling him not to wait up.
Sam snatched up the pie and dug into it, forking a huge piece into his mouth just as Dean arrived at the buffet table.
Sam turned away quickly, not wanting to be recognised, and choked down a laugh at Dean’s brief but high pitched wail of dismay.
Satisfied with his revenge, Sam retreated to a dark corner, finishing off the pie and watching the party carry on around him. The truth was, he was still kind of bored. Sure, it beat sitting around at home, but at least there he wouldn’t have to wear a stupid mask that made his face itch.
He considered leaving, giving up and going home, but then Dean would win. And Castiel had put a lot of work into making him look so good. He had to stick it out for at least another hour.
Sam sighed.
Beside him, someone coughed, and Sam jumped, instinctively reaching for his knife.
Then he saw it was the prince.
“Sh-, I mean, hi!” Sam said, aborting his move for a weapon. He tried to look casual. “Your Majesty,” he added, dropping down into a bow.
Prince Gabriel laughed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” Sam said quickly, then gave the prince a sheepish look. “I mean, a little I guess.”
There was a moment of silence. Sam shifted nervously. He’d only ever seen the prince from afar before, or in paintings and sketches. He was a handsome man, and Sam hadn’t expected to come face to face with him tonight. He didn’t know what to say.
“You’re the prince,” Sam blurted, then closed his eyes, wishing the ground would open and swallow him up.
He almost expected the prince to get angry, but instead he laughed again. It was a nice sound.
“I am,” the prince said. “And you are?”
“No one,” Sam said quickly. “No one important.”
The prince looked him up and down slowly. “I’m sure that’s not true,” he said, but didn’t press for more information.
“Are you enjoying the ball?”
“Oh,” Sam said, desperately trying to think of something nice to say. “Yes. It’s...lovely. Very festive. Everyone looks to be having a good time.”
“Except you,” the prince noted.
Sam opened his mouth to protest, but the prince continued, “And me.”
Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Isn’t this your ball?” he asked.
“It’s a ball in my honour,” the prince explained. “My father, the king... well. He’s not around much these days, but he’s decided he wants me to produce an heir. So he’s determined that I find a nice young princess to make queen and give him grandchildren.”
“Then shouldn’t you be out there, greeting your subjects?” Sam asked, gesturing across the room where the line of hopeful princesses was so long it doubled back on itself.
“Not really my thing,” the prince said. “If you know what I mean.” His tone was guarded, but Sam nodded.
He was pretty sure he understood- the way the prince smiled at him gave him a pretty big clue, for one thing.
“Not mine either,” Sam confessed, and the prince’s smile grew wider.
“Let’s take a walk in the grounds,” the prince suggested, taking the pie plate that was still in Sam’s hand and placing it down. “It’s a beautiful night out there, too nice to be stuck indoors.”
Gently, he picked up Sam’s hand.
“I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds,” the prince said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to have you beheaded if you tell me you’re not interested. Probably not, anyway.” He gave Sam a broad, cheeky grin.
Sam stared at their hands, joined together. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he was sure it must be drowning out the music from the dance floor.
He thought back to earlier that night, when Castiel had appeared. Sam had had no idea that anything like this could happen. He wondered for a moment if this was why Castiel had come, because it was his destiny, just like all the princesses you heard about with fairy godmothers, to marry a prince.
Sam looked up at the prince and smiled.
“You’re not overstepping,” he said, and let the prince lead him out into the cool night air.
They found a quiet corner out of sight from the party-goers and talked. As they did, Sam’s nerves started to slip away. He felt surprisingly comfortable talking to the prince, and it helped that the prince didn’t let go of his hand even for a moment during their conversation.
“I thought this evening would be dull,” the prince said. “And then there you were, enchanting me. I don’t think tonight could be more perfect unless...unless you let me steal a kiss?”
Sam smiled. He nodded and moved closer. Their mouths touched, just the briefest of caresses and then-
Somewhere a clock started to chime.
Sam jerked away, looking up. In the distance he could see the clock tower, both hands pointing to twelve.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, reluctantly dropping the prince’s hand and jumping to his feet.
“Wait!” the prince said, stopping him from running away. “Stay! It’s so cliche to run away at midnight.”
“I can’t,” Sam said. “I...I have to go.”
“At least tell me your name?” the prince asked.
Sam hesitated, not wanting to give his real name. He wasn’t sure why, whether it was because Dean could find out that he’d crashed the ball or that the prince would want nothing more to do with a lowly huntsman. So he lied.
“Keith,” he said, pulling a name out of thin air. “My name is Keith.”
Prince Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Keith?” he repeated, sceptically, and Sam nodded.
The clock chimed for a fifth time.
“I really have to go,” Sam said urgently.
“Wait, Keith,” the prince said. “I want to see you again. Need to see you again.”
Sam nodded, desperately trying to think of some way to make that happen.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow afternoon, outside your stables. I’ll meet you there.”
“I’ll be waiting,” the prince said. “Follow the path through the gardens, via the door on the east wall.”
Sam started to leave, then stopped. He felt wrong, lying to the prince about his name, but there was something he could do to reveal who he really was, that wouldn’t be as dangerous as his name.
He reached up and untied his mask, letting it fall to the ground, and looked the prince straight in the eyes.
“Goodnight,” Sam said, then sprinted away into the night.
Behind him, Prince Gabriel bent down and picked up the fallen mask, running his fingers over it lightly. He smiled.
~~~
Sam didn’t make it home before the final stroke of midnight, but didn’t turn into a pumpkin either.
He slipped back into the cottage, feeling like he was dancing on air. He could still feel the warmth of the prince’s hand in his own. He clutched his hand to his heart as he walked into the kitchen, and then stopped, dropping his hand quickly.
“Uh, you waited up for me?” Sam asked Castiel, who was sitting at the kitchen table.
“No,” Castiel said, but Sam wasn’t sure he believed him. He looked grumpy as he surveyed Sam. “You had a good time,” he said, but it wasn’t a question.
Sam frowned. “Were you watching me?” he asked, suddenly annoyed.
“No,” Castiel said again, no more convincing than before.
Sam opened his mouth but suddenly the front door burst open.
There was a flash of light and suddenly Castiel was gone and Sam’s clothes were back to normal.
Dean strode into the kitchen looking pissed.
“Have a good time?” Sam asked, trying not to smirk when Dean reached for a bottle and two glasses.
“Worst ball ever,” Dean complained, pouring them both a drink. “Someone stole my pie! And the girls were all weird. All they cared about was getting the prince’s attention. But he didn’t seem interested at all.”
Sam snorted. “You have no idea,” he said under his breath.
“What?” Dean asked, but Sam shook his head.
“Next time you can go,” Dean added.
He downed his second glass and finally looked at Sam.
“You seem happy,” Dean remarked and Sam ducked his head, hiding behind his hair.
“What happened tonight?” Dean pressed and Sam hesitated.
He wanted to tell his brother about the night. About meeting the prince who made him feel strange and tingly and happy.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. His head was too full of the events of the day to process properly.
Sam looked up at his brother, and deflected. “How’d you do with the ladies?” he asked and Sam’s evening was promptly forgotten as Dean bitched about how some dick had started a rumour he was cursed.
~~~
The next day, Dean was still pissy, but Sam felt like he was floating on air. He’d barely slept a wink, excitement at seeing the prince again making the butterflies in his stomach flutter. He spent most of the morning remembering the way the prince had smiled at him, how his hand had felt in Sam’s. It had been a magical night, and the revelation that he had a fairy godfather just topped it all off. Sam didn’t doubt Castiel’s story anymore. He’d seen with his own eyes the magic, and it all fit in to the well known tales of fairy godmothers helping out their young charges meet the man of their dreams. Sam was pretty sure that was what was happening here and perhaps, one day, the prince would ask for his hand in marriage.
In a few short hours, he would be seeing his sweet prince again. He had a cunning plan to slip away unnoticed. But it was as if Dean knew exactly what he was thinking and would barely leave Sam alone for two minutes. Sam was sure it probably served him right for messing with Dean the night before, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying.
Eventually he snuck away to their bedroom. He closed his eyes and wished very hard for Castiel to appear.
There was a rustling sound, almost like wings, and when he opened his eyes, there Castiel was, still looking just a little dishevelled. Sam liked it. It seemed appropriate, somehow.
“Hello Sam,” Castiel said.
Sam smiled. “Thanks for last night,” he said.
“You are welcome,” Castiel said, almost smiling.
“I was hoping you could do it again today,” Sam said. “Except this time...I just need Dean to not realise I’ve gone.”
Castiel’s almost smile disappeared. “You’re going to see the prince again,” he said, and Sam nodded, then frowned.
“Don’t you approve?” Sam asked. “Isn’t that what you were here for? Surely you’re supposed to shape my destiny.”
Castiel nodded. “That is my purpose, to aid you on your journey. I do not know what your destiny is, or whether it lies with the prince.”
“I know it does,” Sam said dreamily. “That’s why I need to see him again. Will you help? I wish you would.”
“Your wish is my command,” Castiel intoned, quickly waving his wand and muttering the spell under his breath.
Light flooded Sam’s vision again, and after a moment he was once again clothed in finery. He looked down at himself and nodded, satisfied.
“Do you think the prince will like it?” he asked, and Castiel nodded and hustled him off to the castle.
~~~
The stables were dark and cool as Sam slipped through the ajar doors. He’d made his way through the gardens as the prince had instructed him, avoiding being seen and hadn’t run into a single soul along the way. Here in the stables he was alone too, apart from one old grey nag who watched him with unimpressed eyes as he took in his surroundings.
Sam was early, of course. He always was and he liked things that way, unlike Dean who made it his life’s mission to show up whenever he felt like it. Sam was pretty sure he mostly did that to drive him mad. He didn’t mind that the prince wasn’t there yet, though. It gave him time to imagine how wonderful this date would be, to recapture those butterflies in his stomach and the way his pulse raced when the prince had taken his hand.
Fifteen minutes later, when the prince still hadn’t arrived, Sam found that he was sick of waiting and daydreaming. He wanted the date to start.
Another fifteen minutes and Sam was pacing the floor, the grey horse watching him move back and forth across the length of the stables. His nervousness had ratcheted up- now Sam was convinced that the prince wasn’t going to show up, that he’d regretted spending time with Sam the previous night.
He’d just worked himself up to deciding to leave, if the prince didn’t arrive in the next ten minutes- there was no point dragging out his humiliation at having been forgotten about- when he heard the sound of a horse galloping towards the stables, then slowing to a halt.
Sam slipped into the shadows as the sounds of a rider climbing down out of his saddle came from just outside, and a dark figure slipped into the barn.
Sam automatically reached for his knife, cursing when he realised that as sensible as it had been not to wear it on royal grounds, in case he was mistaken for a would-be assassin and executed for treason on the spot (Castiel’s parting suggestion, and one that Sam had been very grateful for), it wasn’t so useful if he should need to defend himself from an attacker.
“Keith?” the figure said, stepping out into a patch of daylight that slipped in through the thatched roof of the stables. It was the prince.
Sam sighed with relief and stepped out of the shadows. He wanted to ask the prince where he’d been, why he was so late, but the relief at him actually showing up washed over Sam and he couldn’t think of anything to say except, “Hi.”
The prince turned to look at him, beaming as his eyes landed on Sam’s face.
“I was held up with princely duties,” he explained. “You know how it is. You’re not mad I’m late, are you?”
Sam shook his head and lied. “No, not at all.”
The prince smiled and moved to sit on a small bale of hay. “Just in case, I brought a picnic to win you over,” he announced, patting the hay beside him for Sam to sit.
Sam smiled as he hurried to the prince’s side. A picnic sounded ideal- just what they needed to continue their romantic tryst from the previous evening.
“It’s not much,” the prince said. “I couldn’t tell anyone you were with me so all I have is this sandwich. But we can share.”
He pulled a napkin out of his pocket and unwrapped it, revealing a sandwich cut in half.
It wasn’t quite the romantic picnic Sam had envisioned, but he gratefully took half and ate it, smiling as they made small talk.
When they were done, the prince reached out and brushed a crumb away from the corner of Sam’s mouth.
“Forgive me,” the prince said as he tipped Sam’s chin up so they could kiss.
Any disappointment Sam had been feeling immediately took flight and left him. All he cared about, suddenly, was being near the prince. It was like an enchantment, only Sam never wanted to have the spell lifted.
“Your majesty,” he gasped, sighing happily when the kiss ended.
The prince laughed. “Gabriel,” he corrected. “They call me Gabriel. You should too.”
“Gabriel,” Sam said, smiling as he spoke. A name had never sounded so perfect on his lips before.
“Keith,” Gabriel said, reaching out and taking his hand. “You enchant me. For so long I didn’t know if I would find love but now...I could fall in love with you, Keith.”
Sam ducked his head, blushing. It was as if every tale he’d ever heard, everything he’d ever wished for, could one day come true.
“I must go,” Gabriel said, apologetically. “Will you meet me here again tomorrow?”
Sam nodded wordlessly, and watched Gabriel leave with a parting kiss to Sam’s hand.
Sam floated home, the feeling of Gabriel’s lips on his mouth and hand etched into his memory.
Dean looked up in surprise when he came inside.
“I didn’t know you’d gone out,” he said, and Sam sent a silent thank you to Castiel, wondering if he could hear it.
Sam sat down opposite Dean, joining him in a game of cards until Dean got tired of him staring into the distance and sighing instead of throwing in some chips.
So he went to bed early, dreaming about princes and magic spells.
~~~
Sam could have slipped away unnoticed, the next day. Dean had gone fishing, something Sam personally hated and so he had the cottage to himself. He dressed up in the fine cloak they owned and was pleased to note he didn’t look too different from how Castiel had magicked him up to look.
Thinking of Castiel made Sam want to see him. He was so grateful to his fairy godfather for bringing him so far, and so he wished for Castiel to appear.
He did immediately, smiling when he saw Sam then frowning a little.
“The prince,” Castiel guessed, and Sam nodded.
“I don’t need your help today,” Sam told him, and was surprised when Castiel looked almost disappointed. “I just wanted to see you and say thank you. Meeting you has been one of the best things in my life.”
Castiel looked pleased, until Sam continued. “After all, if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have met the prince. Oh, Cas, his kisses...it’s like they’re magical. They sear my very soul! I could stare into his eyes for hours! I could-”
“You should probably go,” Castiel interrupted. “Or you’ll be late.”
And then he immediately disappeared, leaving Sam puzzled for a moment.
Then he remembered the prince was waiting for him, and he hurried off to the castle stables again.
~~~
The prince was late, again, but this time Sam didn’t mind. The anticipation made the moment that Gabriel walked through the doors even better.
Gabriel kissed him immediately, no longer asking for permission. Sam smiled and returned the kiss.
“You’re so very handsome,” Gabriel said, and they sat down on the same bale of hay.
They fell into silence, at first comfortable, but then as the time stretched on and neither of them spoke, Sam began to shift uncomfortably. He stared at his hands for a moment, desperately trying to think of something interesting to say so that the prince wouldn’t think he was a terrible bore. Most conversation starters he normally fell back on were useless here- after all, he could hardly ask the prince where he was from or what he did for a living.
So he cast around for a topic that he could fill the silence with. He thought of things he liked, of things that annoyed him- and fell onto a topic he could be in danger of talking about for hours.
“I have a brother,” Sam said, and the prince looked at him with interest. “We work together, but mostly he drives me crazy.”
“How so?” Gabriel asked, and Sam launched into long but carefully edited stories about how many times Dean had made him want to pull out his hair. He skipped any details that would let Gabriel know who he really was. Despite knowing that the prince was falling in love with him, Sam wasn’t sure what would happen if he found out the truth about Sam’s profession.
He stopped talking when he noticed the shadows in the barn had moved a fair distance across the floor.
“Sorry,” Sam said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”
The prince smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. “I completely understand what it’s like to have annoying older brothers. Of course, mine are thankfully dead, so they’re probably not as annoying right now.”
Sam nodded politely. Everyone in the kingdom knew the story, of course. It was a tale told in taverns and across shop counters far and wide: the battle for the crown that resulted in Gabriel’s older brothers destroying each other in the process. No one knew all of the details, of course, as the palace carefully kept most of the story under wraps. But the tale was almost mythical now, whispered between school children and washerwomen, getting a little more outlandish with each retelling. Sam had always been curious about it, so he listened intently as Gabriel continued.
“They’d just fight, fight, fight, each trying to take down the other, to get control. For as long as I can remember, they’d been at odds. Lucifer never agreed with the way our father ruled the kingdom, and Michael didn’t want him to take the throne when father died. We always knew they’d fight and at least one of them would die. We just didn’t expect it to be both of them.”
“And your father just let them fight?” Sam asked, unable to help himself.
Gabriel’s eyes flashed. “How dare you question the will of the king?” he demanded. “Even the simple act of asking is considered an act of treason, punishable by banishment or death.”
Sam swallowed hard, wishing again he’d brought he knife in case he needed to fight his way out. He glanced around the stables, mind immediately going into huntsman mode, searching for a weapon. He was about to wish for Castiel to appear and save him when Gabriel’s stern expression faded and he burst out laughing.
“I’m messing with you,” he said, nudging Sam lightly with his shoulder, as if he was completely unaware that Sam’s blood had run cold.
“I don’t know why dear old dad didn’t stop them. But it worked out well for me so, hey, what do I care?” He spread his arms wide, gesturing around himself as if to symbolise the kingdom that would one day be his.
Sam smiled gingerly, sure that Gabriel was joking again, but this time his expression remained unchanged, a hint of steel in his eyes.
“But enough about me,” Gabriel said. “I know about your relationship with your brother, but nothing about you. What is it you do together? I asked around and no one knew of a noble named Keith.”
Sam hesitated. As handsome as Gabriel was, and as exciting as it was to be with him and to feel wanted by a prince, this new side of Gabriel he’d just discovered worried him a little. He wasn’t sure what Gabriel would do when he found out the truth. But his heart had only just stopped banging frantically against his ribcage and he was too distracted to think up a good cover story.
“I’m a huntsman,” he said, expecting Gabriel to jump up and demand the guards seize him at once for impersonating nobility.
Instead, Gabriel smiled, looking excited. “How adventurous!” he said, seeming genuinely pleased. “I knew you were a gate crasher from the moment I saw you. You were trying too hard to blend in. I’ve spent my life watching the courtiers and I can spot someone out of place a mile away. I like a man who braves danger for excitement. You must tell me more of your escapades.”
Surprised, but pleased, Sam smiled and proceeded to tell Gabriel a few of the more exciting adventures he and Dean had had, making sure to stick to the ones that made him seem most dashing and daring.
Gabriel seemed to enjoy those the best, obviously thinking Sam was a swashbuckling guy who laughed in the face of danger, rather than a kid who’d been brought up into the family business of being a huntsman.
Sam liked what he did of course- he liked working with Dean, despite his long-suffering complaints about him, and he loved helping people, working to keep the kingdom safe from evil forces. But sometimes he dreamed of a normal life, where he didn’t have to wonder whether the evening would end with him asleep in his bed or dead in a ditch somewhere.
When he mentioned this to Gabriel, the prince snorted.
“Boring!” he said dismissively. “What I wouldn’t give to experience some of the excitement you’ve had. I don’t think you realise how dull being a prince can be sometimes. I’m never allowed to get up to mischief like I did when I was younger.”
“It can’t be all bad,” Sam said, amicably, not wanting to argue with the Prince.
Gabriel thought for a moment. “Well...a few weeks ago I caught a courtier passing vital security information to our enemies in a neighbouring kingdom. I had him beheaded, of course, and his head stuck on a spike to remind my subjects that treachery is not to be tolerated.”
Sam nodded politely. It wasn’t exactly the sort of story he’d expected Gabriel to tell him. Gabriel seemed to take his nodding as encouragement to tell more stories in a similar vein. Sam found himself relieved when the sun started to set and the prince stood up, reaching for Sam’s hand.
“I’ve had the most wonderful time with you,” he said. “I’m pleased you returned to see me. Will I see you again tomorrow?”
Sam hesitated. He wanted to say yes- his skin tingled where Gabriel was touching him, and his stomach flip flopped whenever Gabriel smiled at him. The Prince made him feel like he’d never felt before, and Sam was sure this was what the beginning of love felt like. But at the same time, the stories Gabriel was telling made him feel uncomfortable- Sam knew he and Dean walked the fine line between good and evil sometimes, and that they had a great deal of blood on their hands, but Gabriel seemed to enjoy teaching people who’d betrayed him a lesson.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Gabriel said, noting Sam’s hesitation. “You’re reluctant to come back because you don’t want to hide in stables with me...even though there are many things we could do to entertain ourselves secluded away from prying eyes. Tomorrow we shall take a stroll through the grounds and I can show you off to my heart’s desire.”
He walked to the stable door, not waiting for a response, and Sam followed after him.
“I must return to the castle,” Gabriel announced, taking Sam’s hand once again and pressing it to his lips. “Until tomorrow,” he said, breath tickling the back of Sam’s hand.
And then he climbed up onto his horse and was gone.
Sam walked through the woods, all the way home.
Dean was dishing up bowls of stew, made of some unidentified meat. “I killed two ogres on my own today,” Dean said, spooning food into his mouth, then talking around the mouthful. “They stole all the fish I’d caught and I followed them back to their cave. They had three villagers tied up in there, ready for the barbeque. Could’ve done with some back-up.”
Sam took the bowl Dean offered, lifting up a spoon then letting the stew fall back into the bowl.
“Tell me this is made from the fish you caught,” Sam begged, even though he knew it wasn’t.
Dean shrugged. “They didn’t need it anymore, and in case you forgot, we’re a little low on funds right now,” he said, happily slurping away.
Sam set the bowl down. He wondered if Gabriel would still think his life was excitement and adventure if he saw them in their tiny cottage, eating ogre stew. Although, judging by the prince’s tales today, he’d probably think that the ogres had gotten their just desserts- that those who terrorised the people of his kingdom, eating whoever got in their path, deserved to be eaten themselves.
“I’m not hungry,” Sam announced, pushing his bowl across the table at Dean, who grinned up at him and tipped its contents into his own bowl.
Sam walked into the bedroom- the cottage was small enough they had to share- and flopped down on his bed.
“Cas?” he called, wishing that Castiel would appear.
“Yes, Sam?” Castiel asked, suddenly standing beside Sam’s bed.
Sam smiled in relief and sat up. “I saw Gabriel again today,” he said, looking up in time to see a twist of something odd in Castiel’s expression.
“Gabriel,” Castiel repeated. “It has not taken you long to become well acquainted with the prince.” It wasn’t a question but Sam nodded, smiling.
“He asked me to call him Gabriel,” he explained. “And then...told me about prisoners he’s had beheaded. It was a strange day.”
“It does sound strange,” Castiel agreed, and when Sam stared at him, his face was carefully blank.
“Am I doing the right thing?” Sam asked, letting himself fall back down to meet the hard mattress. “It feels so right, and yet...I don’t know why I’m doing this. I didn’t set out to meet a prince, but that’s what happened and I can’t help it if I’m falling in love with him.”
Castiel’s voice sounded a little tense as he replied, “Fate is a mysterious thing- we never know where we’re supposed to be, or who we’re supposed to be with until it happens.”
“But is this my fate?” Sam asked, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands over his face. “Is Gabriel my one true love? Are the things about him that bother me little things I’d forget over time? How am I supposed to know?”
“What do you want from me, Sam?” Castiel asked and Sam sighed.
“I wish you’d tell me what to do,” he said.
There was a long pause. “You must follow your heart,” Castiel said carefully.
Sam opened his eyes, but Castiel had disappeared and didn’t return when Sam wished for him.
On to Part 2.
Pairings: Sam/Gabriel, Sam/Castiel, Dean/Gabriel
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~14900
Disclaimer: Neither the characters of supernatural, nor the various fairytale themes and references used in this fic belong to me.
Summary: Sam leads as unremarkable a life as is possible for a huntsman in a magical kingdom to have. But when his fairy godfather shows up to send him to the royal ball and he meets a prince, he starts wondering if maybe his destiny lies somewhere else.
A/N: Written for virtualpersonal who generously donated to help_nz. I’ve taken an awfully long time on this but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Many thanks to mintyfiend for betaing. Title is from the movie Ever After
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, Sam Winchester was bored.
It had been a quiet few weeks. Ever since the dragon slaying incident, most of the trolls and ogres, witches and warlocks, gremlins and goblins that plagued the land were behaving themselves. Word had obviously spread that the Winchesters were not to be messed with. Which was a nice change, but it had been a long time since they’d had to rescue a damsel in distress. And, as nice as the kingdom was, there wasn’t much else for a huntsman to do.
The door to their cottage slammed open and then slammed closed again. Sam tensed automatically, then relaxed when he saw his brother Dean, fellow huntsman and all around pain-in-Sam’s-ass, saunter in.
“Guess what I’ve got?” Dean said, waving a piece of parchment and grinning from ear to ear.
Sam perked up. “Another job?” he asked, hopefully.
This was generally how they found work- parchments nailed to trees, asking for someone to sort out a particularly nasty monster problem or rescue one of the more obscure princesses that the kingdom seemed to be overflowing with. If they were lucky, there was a reward offered. And if they were even luckier, people actually paid the reward after they’d done the job.
“Even better,” Dean said, slapping it down on the table.
Sam leaned in and read.
Royal Masquerade Ball and Buffet, it said.
His Royal Highness, Prince Gabriel, requests the presence of the Huntsman who did save our fair kingdom from the fierce and terrible dragon that plagued our fair land.
Dress is formal, and masks are required.
Dean punched Sam in the shoulder.
“I’m going!” he said, looking way too gleeful for someone who usually got their kicks from hacking monsters to pieces. “I’m going to a Royal Buffet! And you know what that means? Good eats. And maybe some pretty girls,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“You mean we’re going,” Sam corrected, then frowned when Dean shook his head.
“Sorry, Sammy,” he said, not looking the least bit sorry at all. “Invite doesn’t say anything about plus ones. Besides, we’ve only got one nice cloak between us and since the hand that’s holding the invite,” he added, snatching the parchment back off the table, “is the hand that finally silenced that dragon’s fearful roar, looks like I’ve got a party to get ready for.”
Sam scowled. Technically, Dean was right. Technically. Sam had been so close to slaying the dragon, but his foot had slipped on the gravel, sending down a hail of pebbles. The dragon had woken, its giant tail sweeping in and slamming him against the wall. Winded, he’d tossed his sword to Dean, who had ducked in and dealt the final blow.
Team work. That was their gimmick, that’s what kept them alive when so many huntsmen had died or given up the life. Normally they didn’t compete when it came to kills, other than the occasional joking comment about who was the better huntsman. Until something shiny came along, apparently. Sam pouted.
“You can go next time,” Dean said, clapping Sam on the shoulder and earning a warning look in return.
Sam carried on pouting while Dean got ready for the ball, humming to himself as he did.
He scowled as Dean stood by the door, putting on their one good cloak. They’d never needed fine things before- the life of a huntsman didn’t exactly lend itself to interacting with fine society- but they’d rescued a rich but idiotic young man who’d refused to pay them afterwards. Sam suspected it had been a long, cold walk home for him, without the clothes that they’d bundled up and brought home with them in lieu of payment.
“Still sulking?” Dean asked, tying on what was obviously a hastily made mask consisting of an old silk scarf with two holes cut out of it. When Sam didn’t respond to his question, Dean shrugged and stepped through the door.
“I hope it sucks,” Sam said, following after him.
“Don’t wait up,” Dean said smugly over his shoulder. “I plan on getting lucky.”
Sam glared at his retreating back, then turned on his heel and stomped inside. He waited until the sound of hooves faded into the distance and then he trudged back to the kitchen table. He sat down heavily.
“This is so unfair!” Sam complained to himself. “I wish I could go to the ball.”
“And so you shall,” said a voice behind him.
Sam was up and on his feet, knife drawn from his boot, in half a heartbeat.
“Who are you?” Sam demanded, keeping his eyes on the intruder but quickly noting everything in the room he could use as a weapon. “What are you? And how did you get in here?”
The man stared at him, looking unimpressed. He had a sort of dishevelled look about him, and his clothes were rumpled, his neckerchief sloppily loosened.
“Why don’t you put the knife down, Sam,” the man said. He sounded uninterested, rather than threatening, which made Sam even more suspicious.
“I think I’ll keep hold of it, thanks,” Sam replied and the man sighed and lifted his hand. He twitched it slightly and Sam’s hand was suddenly empty, the knife magically appearing on the table, fully sheathed.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a witch!” he exclaimed, lunging forward, intending to knock the man down for long enough to find a bucket of water to melt him with or an oven or canyon to push him into.
But his fist didn’t connect with anything- the man suddenly wasn’t there anymore, and Sam found himself falling to the floor with a crash.
There was a loud sigh behind him.
“Get up, Sam,” the man said. “If you stop trying to kill me, I’ll explain who I am.”
Sam pushed himself to his feet, reluctantly holding up his palms in a sign of surrender.
“Fine,” he said. “Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Castiel,” said the man. “And I’m your fairy godfather.”
Sam stared at him. “You’re my what?”
“Your fairy godfather,” Castiel repeated calmly. “Which means-”
“I know what it means,” Sam interrupted. “But I don’t have one. Fairy godmothers -and fathers, I guess- are for princesses and people like that. Important people.”
“Not really, everyone’s got one,” Castiel said, matter of fact. “But mostly it doesn’t pay to go around answering the wishes of just anyone. More publicity with the royal cases. Easier to get sponsorship deals, or at least a small castle of your own from the grateful princess.”
“And you don’t care about publicity and sponsorship?” Sam asked, immediately suspicious again. Years of hunting had taught him to trust no one and that nothing came without a price.
Castiel shrugged. “Not really. Technically we’re supposed to come if you wish for something hard enough, but we can ignore it if it’s not too urgent. Today I had nothing better to do. You called, I answered.”
Sam stared at Castiel for a long moment, then sat down, motioning for Castiel to do the same, across the table from him. Sam rested his hand a few inches from the knife that Castiel had magicked there, just in case.
“How long have you been watching over me?” Sam asked.
“Since birth,” Castiel said, and Sam raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that.
“Except I’ve been busy,” Castiel continued. “So I haven’t checked in on you properly in some time.”
“You’ve been busy?” Sam repeated, feeling mildly offended. He thought of all of the times he could have used a bit of magic on his side, to keep from being almost eaten by trolls or dying in some equally horrific way, and frowned.
“People forget fairy godparents don’t just sit around and wait to be needed. We have lives to live and every so often we get a...political situation amongst ourselves that requires our attention. We had a rough patch recently but things have started to simmer down. So I heard you call me.”
“I didn’t-”
“You made a wish,” Castiel explained. “It came through loud and clear. And so I am here to make it come true.”
Sam stared at him. “You’re here to send me to a ball?”
Castiel nodded. “Yes. I’ll conjure you up a costume and a carriage, and you’ll have a wonderful time,” he said, obviously trying to sound enthusiastic and failing.
“Uh, okay?” Sam agreed, still sceptical. He wasn’t sure he trusted this guy.
Castiel stood up and pulled what was obviously a wand out of the sleeve of his coat. It was purple and sparkly and had a star on the top. Sam had to try very hard not to laugh.
Castiel gave Sam a warning glare, them muttered something under his breath.
Instantly Sam was surrounded by a swirl of twinkling lights, so bright he had to close his eyes. When he opened them, he found himself clothed in a fancy suit, a mask lying on the table beside the knife.
“What was that you said?” Sam asked, after he’d taken a good look at himself.
“Nothing,” Castiel said, but Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Come on,” he said. “You can tell me. Was it a spell?”
Castiel seemed to hesitate, then nodded.
“Only one thing works for answering wishes,” he said, then reluctantly added, “Bippity-boppety-boo,” as quickly as possible.
Sam burst out laughing, and laughed even harder when Castiel admitted that they were supposed to sing it.
“But I’m not going to,” he added, looking even more serious than he’d done before.
Before Sam could say anything else, Castiel hurried on.
“You’ll need a carriage to take you to the ball,” he said, walking out of the cottage and into the barn beside it, Sam hot on his heels.
Castiel surveyed the old cart they used whenever Dean wouldn’t let Sam use the carriage he’d lovingly restored after a particularly lucrative princess rescue. It was Dean’s pride and joy and so of course he’d taken it with him to the ball, probably hoping to use it to pick up a young princess or duchess.
“This will do,” Castiel said, pointing at the old cart, then at two of the pigs they kept in the barn to ensure they never ran out of bacon.
Castiel gave another swish of his wand as he said, “Bippety, boppity, boo,” and they immediately transformed into a fancy carriage and two horses.
“Thanks,” Sam said, helping to harness the horses. He looked down at himself, then at the carriage, thinking how much better than Dean he would look when he strolled into the ball.
A thought occurred to him.
“You said everyone has a fairy godparent, right?” Sam asked, and Castiel nodded. “What about Dean? Does he have one?”
Castiel made an unimpressed noise. “Sometimes, the fairy godparent you’re assigned turns out to be an ass,” he said. “Like Zachariah. Dean is probably better off without him. And without knowing about me,” he added with a meaningful look.
Sam nodded, even though he was pretty sure he’d end up telling Dean eventually. Especially in case this all backfired and Castiel wasn’t really his fairy godfather and was a witch in disguise, trying to kill them all. But he wouldn’t tell Dean tonight. Tonight he was going to go to the ball and have a good time. And hopefully bug Dean in the process.
“Well,” Castiel said gruffly. “You should go, your carriage awaits.”
Sam nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat, taking the reins.
“Remember,” Castiel said. “The spell will wear off at midnight, so be home by then, otherwise you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”
Sam frowned. “Isn’t the carriage supposed to turn into a pumpkin?”
“Not the way I do spells,” Castiel said, and waved Sam off.
~~~
Sam had no trouble getting into the ball without an invite. He’d had plenty of practice sneaking in places while they’d been on hunting jobs, and besides, when you turn up looking as good- and probably more importantly, as rich- as Sam did, no one was going to question you.
He dodged the grand staircase, where people were being announced, to save having to come up with a false identity. On the far side of the room he could see the prince, surrounded by his courtiers, being introduced one by one to a line of eager young women.
Sam slipped into the throng of dancers and people milling around. He joined a few conversations but found himself almost immediately bored. The aristocracy appeared to have much less pressing concerns than Sam and Dean had in their daily lives. They worried about having enough food during the winter, but the duke Sam was currently talking to was only concerned whether his wife’s next gift would be gold or jewels.
As politely as possible, Sam excused himself and started to look around for his brother. He had no plans to let Dean know he was there, but the ball was much less exciting than he’d hoped it would be, and at least Dean could be counted on to provide some entertainment, especially with a little of Sam’s help.
He spotted his brother easily- his entire life had been spent following his brother’s lead, learning from him. He could recognise that swagger anywhere.
As Sam watched, Dean approached a girl with blonde ringlets and a fan that she used to hide her face as she giggled in Dean’s direction. Sam had witnessed enough of Dean’s pick up techniques to imagine how he was trying to charm the young princess.
After a few minutes, Dean dropped into a low bow, pressing a kiss to the girl’s hand, then turned to walk to a nearby punch bowl.
Sam found he couldn’t help himself from butting in. He crossed the room quickly, pausing casually beside the young lady.
“Were you just talking to that gentleman?” Sam asked, keeping his voice low.
The girl looked up at him, and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “He’s so poised and handsome.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “And,” he said, “cursed. From what I hear, if you kiss him, he’ll turn into a frog. With warts and stuff.”
“Ew!” the princess exclaimed, looking revolted.
Sam blended back into the crowd, returning to his previous vantage point. He watched the blonde turn away abruptly when Dean approached, hurrying towards a group of girls. Dean looked surprised, then concerned as he watched her whisper to her friends, who all cast disgusted looks at Dean.
As Sam watched, Dean shrugged, moving swiftly on from his loss. He looked around the room, eyes lighting on the buffet table. Food had started to dwindle as the hours passed, and there was only one piece of pie remaining on the silver platters. Cherry, Dean’s favourite.
Dean made a beeline for it, trying to dodge the dancers who whirled and spun across the dance floor.
Sam looked at the piece of pie. It was barely six strides away, but he hesitated. It was probably too mean, to cockblock Dean and then take his pie too. It wasn’t a very brotherly thing to do.
And then he remembered Dean’s smug grin, telling him not to wait up.
Sam snatched up the pie and dug into it, forking a huge piece into his mouth just as Dean arrived at the buffet table.
Sam turned away quickly, not wanting to be recognised, and choked down a laugh at Dean’s brief but high pitched wail of dismay.
Satisfied with his revenge, Sam retreated to a dark corner, finishing off the pie and watching the party carry on around him. The truth was, he was still kind of bored. Sure, it beat sitting around at home, but at least there he wouldn’t have to wear a stupid mask that made his face itch.
He considered leaving, giving up and going home, but then Dean would win. And Castiel had put a lot of work into making him look so good. He had to stick it out for at least another hour.
Sam sighed.
Beside him, someone coughed, and Sam jumped, instinctively reaching for his knife.
Then he saw it was the prince.
“Sh-, I mean, hi!” Sam said, aborting his move for a weapon. He tried to look casual. “Your Majesty,” he added, dropping down into a bow.
Prince Gabriel laughed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” Sam said quickly, then gave the prince a sheepish look. “I mean, a little I guess.”
There was a moment of silence. Sam shifted nervously. He’d only ever seen the prince from afar before, or in paintings and sketches. He was a handsome man, and Sam hadn’t expected to come face to face with him tonight. He didn’t know what to say.
“You’re the prince,” Sam blurted, then closed his eyes, wishing the ground would open and swallow him up.
He almost expected the prince to get angry, but instead he laughed again. It was a nice sound.
“I am,” the prince said. “And you are?”
“No one,” Sam said quickly. “No one important.”
The prince looked him up and down slowly. “I’m sure that’s not true,” he said, but didn’t press for more information.
“Are you enjoying the ball?”
“Oh,” Sam said, desperately trying to think of something nice to say. “Yes. It’s...lovely. Very festive. Everyone looks to be having a good time.”
“Except you,” the prince noted.
Sam opened his mouth to protest, but the prince continued, “And me.”
Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Isn’t this your ball?” he asked.
“It’s a ball in my honour,” the prince explained. “My father, the king... well. He’s not around much these days, but he’s decided he wants me to produce an heir. So he’s determined that I find a nice young princess to make queen and give him grandchildren.”
“Then shouldn’t you be out there, greeting your subjects?” Sam asked, gesturing across the room where the line of hopeful princesses was so long it doubled back on itself.
“Not really my thing,” the prince said. “If you know what I mean.” His tone was guarded, but Sam nodded.
He was pretty sure he understood- the way the prince smiled at him gave him a pretty big clue, for one thing.
“Not mine either,” Sam confessed, and the prince’s smile grew wider.
“Let’s take a walk in the grounds,” the prince suggested, taking the pie plate that was still in Sam’s hand and placing it down. “It’s a beautiful night out there, too nice to be stuck indoors.”
Gently, he picked up Sam’s hand.
“I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds,” the prince said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to have you beheaded if you tell me you’re not interested. Probably not, anyway.” He gave Sam a broad, cheeky grin.
Sam stared at their hands, joined together. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he was sure it must be drowning out the music from the dance floor.
He thought back to earlier that night, when Castiel had appeared. Sam had had no idea that anything like this could happen. He wondered for a moment if this was why Castiel had come, because it was his destiny, just like all the princesses you heard about with fairy godmothers, to marry a prince.
Sam looked up at the prince and smiled.
“You’re not overstepping,” he said, and let the prince lead him out into the cool night air.
They found a quiet corner out of sight from the party-goers and talked. As they did, Sam’s nerves started to slip away. He felt surprisingly comfortable talking to the prince, and it helped that the prince didn’t let go of his hand even for a moment during their conversation.
“I thought this evening would be dull,” the prince said. “And then there you were, enchanting me. I don’t think tonight could be more perfect unless...unless you let me steal a kiss?”
Sam smiled. He nodded and moved closer. Their mouths touched, just the briefest of caresses and then-
Somewhere a clock started to chime.
Sam jerked away, looking up. In the distance he could see the clock tower, both hands pointing to twelve.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, reluctantly dropping the prince’s hand and jumping to his feet.
“Wait!” the prince said, stopping him from running away. “Stay! It’s so cliche to run away at midnight.”
“I can’t,” Sam said. “I...I have to go.”
“At least tell me your name?” the prince asked.
Sam hesitated, not wanting to give his real name. He wasn’t sure why, whether it was because Dean could find out that he’d crashed the ball or that the prince would want nothing more to do with a lowly huntsman. So he lied.
“Keith,” he said, pulling a name out of thin air. “My name is Keith.”
Prince Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Keith?” he repeated, sceptically, and Sam nodded.
The clock chimed for a fifth time.
“I really have to go,” Sam said urgently.
“Wait, Keith,” the prince said. “I want to see you again. Need to see you again.”
Sam nodded, desperately trying to think of some way to make that happen.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow afternoon, outside your stables. I’ll meet you there.”
“I’ll be waiting,” the prince said. “Follow the path through the gardens, via the door on the east wall.”
Sam started to leave, then stopped. He felt wrong, lying to the prince about his name, but there was something he could do to reveal who he really was, that wouldn’t be as dangerous as his name.
He reached up and untied his mask, letting it fall to the ground, and looked the prince straight in the eyes.
“Goodnight,” Sam said, then sprinted away into the night.
Behind him, Prince Gabriel bent down and picked up the fallen mask, running his fingers over it lightly. He smiled.
~~~
Sam didn’t make it home before the final stroke of midnight, but didn’t turn into a pumpkin either.
He slipped back into the cottage, feeling like he was dancing on air. He could still feel the warmth of the prince’s hand in his own. He clutched his hand to his heart as he walked into the kitchen, and then stopped, dropping his hand quickly.
“Uh, you waited up for me?” Sam asked Castiel, who was sitting at the kitchen table.
“No,” Castiel said, but Sam wasn’t sure he believed him. He looked grumpy as he surveyed Sam. “You had a good time,” he said, but it wasn’t a question.
Sam frowned. “Were you watching me?” he asked, suddenly annoyed.
“No,” Castiel said again, no more convincing than before.
Sam opened his mouth but suddenly the front door burst open.
There was a flash of light and suddenly Castiel was gone and Sam’s clothes were back to normal.
Dean strode into the kitchen looking pissed.
“Have a good time?” Sam asked, trying not to smirk when Dean reached for a bottle and two glasses.
“Worst ball ever,” Dean complained, pouring them both a drink. “Someone stole my pie! And the girls were all weird. All they cared about was getting the prince’s attention. But he didn’t seem interested at all.”
Sam snorted. “You have no idea,” he said under his breath.
“What?” Dean asked, but Sam shook his head.
“Next time you can go,” Dean added.
He downed his second glass and finally looked at Sam.
“You seem happy,” Dean remarked and Sam ducked his head, hiding behind his hair.
“What happened tonight?” Dean pressed and Sam hesitated.
He wanted to tell his brother about the night. About meeting the prince who made him feel strange and tingly and happy.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. His head was too full of the events of the day to process properly.
Sam looked up at his brother, and deflected. “How’d you do with the ladies?” he asked and Sam’s evening was promptly forgotten as Dean bitched about how some dick had started a rumour he was cursed.
~~~
The next day, Dean was still pissy, but Sam felt like he was floating on air. He’d barely slept a wink, excitement at seeing the prince again making the butterflies in his stomach flutter. He spent most of the morning remembering the way the prince had smiled at him, how his hand had felt in Sam’s. It had been a magical night, and the revelation that he had a fairy godfather just topped it all off. Sam didn’t doubt Castiel’s story anymore. He’d seen with his own eyes the magic, and it all fit in to the well known tales of fairy godmothers helping out their young charges meet the man of their dreams. Sam was pretty sure that was what was happening here and perhaps, one day, the prince would ask for his hand in marriage.
In a few short hours, he would be seeing his sweet prince again. He had a cunning plan to slip away unnoticed. But it was as if Dean knew exactly what he was thinking and would barely leave Sam alone for two minutes. Sam was sure it probably served him right for messing with Dean the night before, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying.
Eventually he snuck away to their bedroom. He closed his eyes and wished very hard for Castiel to appear.
There was a rustling sound, almost like wings, and when he opened his eyes, there Castiel was, still looking just a little dishevelled. Sam liked it. It seemed appropriate, somehow.
“Hello Sam,” Castiel said.
Sam smiled. “Thanks for last night,” he said.
“You are welcome,” Castiel said, almost smiling.
“I was hoping you could do it again today,” Sam said. “Except this time...I just need Dean to not realise I’ve gone.”
Castiel’s almost smile disappeared. “You’re going to see the prince again,” he said, and Sam nodded, then frowned.
“Don’t you approve?” Sam asked. “Isn’t that what you were here for? Surely you’re supposed to shape my destiny.”
Castiel nodded. “That is my purpose, to aid you on your journey. I do not know what your destiny is, or whether it lies with the prince.”
“I know it does,” Sam said dreamily. “That’s why I need to see him again. Will you help? I wish you would.”
“Your wish is my command,” Castiel intoned, quickly waving his wand and muttering the spell under his breath.
Light flooded Sam’s vision again, and after a moment he was once again clothed in finery. He looked down at himself and nodded, satisfied.
“Do you think the prince will like it?” he asked, and Castiel nodded and hustled him off to the castle.
~~~
The stables were dark and cool as Sam slipped through the ajar doors. He’d made his way through the gardens as the prince had instructed him, avoiding being seen and hadn’t run into a single soul along the way. Here in the stables he was alone too, apart from one old grey nag who watched him with unimpressed eyes as he took in his surroundings.
Sam was early, of course. He always was and he liked things that way, unlike Dean who made it his life’s mission to show up whenever he felt like it. Sam was pretty sure he mostly did that to drive him mad. He didn’t mind that the prince wasn’t there yet, though. It gave him time to imagine how wonderful this date would be, to recapture those butterflies in his stomach and the way his pulse raced when the prince had taken his hand.
Fifteen minutes later, when the prince still hadn’t arrived, Sam found that he was sick of waiting and daydreaming. He wanted the date to start.
Another fifteen minutes and Sam was pacing the floor, the grey horse watching him move back and forth across the length of the stables. His nervousness had ratcheted up- now Sam was convinced that the prince wasn’t going to show up, that he’d regretted spending time with Sam the previous night.
He’d just worked himself up to deciding to leave, if the prince didn’t arrive in the next ten minutes- there was no point dragging out his humiliation at having been forgotten about- when he heard the sound of a horse galloping towards the stables, then slowing to a halt.
Sam slipped into the shadows as the sounds of a rider climbing down out of his saddle came from just outside, and a dark figure slipped into the barn.
Sam automatically reached for his knife, cursing when he realised that as sensible as it had been not to wear it on royal grounds, in case he was mistaken for a would-be assassin and executed for treason on the spot (Castiel’s parting suggestion, and one that Sam had been very grateful for), it wasn’t so useful if he should need to defend himself from an attacker.
“Keith?” the figure said, stepping out into a patch of daylight that slipped in through the thatched roof of the stables. It was the prince.
Sam sighed with relief and stepped out of the shadows. He wanted to ask the prince where he’d been, why he was so late, but the relief at him actually showing up washed over Sam and he couldn’t think of anything to say except, “Hi.”
The prince turned to look at him, beaming as his eyes landed on Sam’s face.
“I was held up with princely duties,” he explained. “You know how it is. You’re not mad I’m late, are you?”
Sam shook his head and lied. “No, not at all.”
The prince smiled and moved to sit on a small bale of hay. “Just in case, I brought a picnic to win you over,” he announced, patting the hay beside him for Sam to sit.
Sam smiled as he hurried to the prince’s side. A picnic sounded ideal- just what they needed to continue their romantic tryst from the previous evening.
“It’s not much,” the prince said. “I couldn’t tell anyone you were with me so all I have is this sandwich. But we can share.”
He pulled a napkin out of his pocket and unwrapped it, revealing a sandwich cut in half.
It wasn’t quite the romantic picnic Sam had envisioned, but he gratefully took half and ate it, smiling as they made small talk.
When they were done, the prince reached out and brushed a crumb away from the corner of Sam’s mouth.
“Forgive me,” the prince said as he tipped Sam’s chin up so they could kiss.
Any disappointment Sam had been feeling immediately took flight and left him. All he cared about, suddenly, was being near the prince. It was like an enchantment, only Sam never wanted to have the spell lifted.
“Your majesty,” he gasped, sighing happily when the kiss ended.
The prince laughed. “Gabriel,” he corrected. “They call me Gabriel. You should too.”
“Gabriel,” Sam said, smiling as he spoke. A name had never sounded so perfect on his lips before.
“Keith,” Gabriel said, reaching out and taking his hand. “You enchant me. For so long I didn’t know if I would find love but now...I could fall in love with you, Keith.”
Sam ducked his head, blushing. It was as if every tale he’d ever heard, everything he’d ever wished for, could one day come true.
“I must go,” Gabriel said, apologetically. “Will you meet me here again tomorrow?”
Sam nodded wordlessly, and watched Gabriel leave with a parting kiss to Sam’s hand.
Sam floated home, the feeling of Gabriel’s lips on his mouth and hand etched into his memory.
Dean looked up in surprise when he came inside.
“I didn’t know you’d gone out,” he said, and Sam sent a silent thank you to Castiel, wondering if he could hear it.
Sam sat down opposite Dean, joining him in a game of cards until Dean got tired of him staring into the distance and sighing instead of throwing in some chips.
So he went to bed early, dreaming about princes and magic spells.
~~~
Sam could have slipped away unnoticed, the next day. Dean had gone fishing, something Sam personally hated and so he had the cottage to himself. He dressed up in the fine cloak they owned and was pleased to note he didn’t look too different from how Castiel had magicked him up to look.
Thinking of Castiel made Sam want to see him. He was so grateful to his fairy godfather for bringing him so far, and so he wished for Castiel to appear.
He did immediately, smiling when he saw Sam then frowning a little.
“The prince,” Castiel guessed, and Sam nodded.
“I don’t need your help today,” Sam told him, and was surprised when Castiel looked almost disappointed. “I just wanted to see you and say thank you. Meeting you has been one of the best things in my life.”
Castiel looked pleased, until Sam continued. “After all, if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have met the prince. Oh, Cas, his kisses...it’s like they’re magical. They sear my very soul! I could stare into his eyes for hours! I could-”
“You should probably go,” Castiel interrupted. “Or you’ll be late.”
And then he immediately disappeared, leaving Sam puzzled for a moment.
Then he remembered the prince was waiting for him, and he hurried off to the castle stables again.
~~~
The prince was late, again, but this time Sam didn’t mind. The anticipation made the moment that Gabriel walked through the doors even better.
Gabriel kissed him immediately, no longer asking for permission. Sam smiled and returned the kiss.
“You’re so very handsome,” Gabriel said, and they sat down on the same bale of hay.
They fell into silence, at first comfortable, but then as the time stretched on and neither of them spoke, Sam began to shift uncomfortably. He stared at his hands for a moment, desperately trying to think of something interesting to say so that the prince wouldn’t think he was a terrible bore. Most conversation starters he normally fell back on were useless here- after all, he could hardly ask the prince where he was from or what he did for a living.
So he cast around for a topic that he could fill the silence with. He thought of things he liked, of things that annoyed him- and fell onto a topic he could be in danger of talking about for hours.
“I have a brother,” Sam said, and the prince looked at him with interest. “We work together, but mostly he drives me crazy.”
“How so?” Gabriel asked, and Sam launched into long but carefully edited stories about how many times Dean had made him want to pull out his hair. He skipped any details that would let Gabriel know who he really was. Despite knowing that the prince was falling in love with him, Sam wasn’t sure what would happen if he found out the truth about Sam’s profession.
He stopped talking when he noticed the shadows in the barn had moved a fair distance across the floor.
“Sorry,” Sam said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”
The prince smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. “I completely understand what it’s like to have annoying older brothers. Of course, mine are thankfully dead, so they’re probably not as annoying right now.”
Sam nodded politely. Everyone in the kingdom knew the story, of course. It was a tale told in taverns and across shop counters far and wide: the battle for the crown that resulted in Gabriel’s older brothers destroying each other in the process. No one knew all of the details, of course, as the palace carefully kept most of the story under wraps. But the tale was almost mythical now, whispered between school children and washerwomen, getting a little more outlandish with each retelling. Sam had always been curious about it, so he listened intently as Gabriel continued.
“They’d just fight, fight, fight, each trying to take down the other, to get control. For as long as I can remember, they’d been at odds. Lucifer never agreed with the way our father ruled the kingdom, and Michael didn’t want him to take the throne when father died. We always knew they’d fight and at least one of them would die. We just didn’t expect it to be both of them.”
“And your father just let them fight?” Sam asked, unable to help himself.
Gabriel’s eyes flashed. “How dare you question the will of the king?” he demanded. “Even the simple act of asking is considered an act of treason, punishable by banishment or death.”
Sam swallowed hard, wishing again he’d brought he knife in case he needed to fight his way out. He glanced around the stables, mind immediately going into huntsman mode, searching for a weapon. He was about to wish for Castiel to appear and save him when Gabriel’s stern expression faded and he burst out laughing.
“I’m messing with you,” he said, nudging Sam lightly with his shoulder, as if he was completely unaware that Sam’s blood had run cold.
“I don’t know why dear old dad didn’t stop them. But it worked out well for me so, hey, what do I care?” He spread his arms wide, gesturing around himself as if to symbolise the kingdom that would one day be his.
Sam smiled gingerly, sure that Gabriel was joking again, but this time his expression remained unchanged, a hint of steel in his eyes.
“But enough about me,” Gabriel said. “I know about your relationship with your brother, but nothing about you. What is it you do together? I asked around and no one knew of a noble named Keith.”
Sam hesitated. As handsome as Gabriel was, and as exciting as it was to be with him and to feel wanted by a prince, this new side of Gabriel he’d just discovered worried him a little. He wasn’t sure what Gabriel would do when he found out the truth. But his heart had only just stopped banging frantically against his ribcage and he was too distracted to think up a good cover story.
“I’m a huntsman,” he said, expecting Gabriel to jump up and demand the guards seize him at once for impersonating nobility.
Instead, Gabriel smiled, looking excited. “How adventurous!” he said, seeming genuinely pleased. “I knew you were a gate crasher from the moment I saw you. You were trying too hard to blend in. I’ve spent my life watching the courtiers and I can spot someone out of place a mile away. I like a man who braves danger for excitement. You must tell me more of your escapades.”
Surprised, but pleased, Sam smiled and proceeded to tell Gabriel a few of the more exciting adventures he and Dean had had, making sure to stick to the ones that made him seem most dashing and daring.
Gabriel seemed to enjoy those the best, obviously thinking Sam was a swashbuckling guy who laughed in the face of danger, rather than a kid who’d been brought up into the family business of being a huntsman.
Sam liked what he did of course- he liked working with Dean, despite his long-suffering complaints about him, and he loved helping people, working to keep the kingdom safe from evil forces. But sometimes he dreamed of a normal life, where he didn’t have to wonder whether the evening would end with him asleep in his bed or dead in a ditch somewhere.
When he mentioned this to Gabriel, the prince snorted.
“Boring!” he said dismissively. “What I wouldn’t give to experience some of the excitement you’ve had. I don’t think you realise how dull being a prince can be sometimes. I’m never allowed to get up to mischief like I did when I was younger.”
“It can’t be all bad,” Sam said, amicably, not wanting to argue with the Prince.
Gabriel thought for a moment. “Well...a few weeks ago I caught a courtier passing vital security information to our enemies in a neighbouring kingdom. I had him beheaded, of course, and his head stuck on a spike to remind my subjects that treachery is not to be tolerated.”
Sam nodded politely. It wasn’t exactly the sort of story he’d expected Gabriel to tell him. Gabriel seemed to take his nodding as encouragement to tell more stories in a similar vein. Sam found himself relieved when the sun started to set and the prince stood up, reaching for Sam’s hand.
“I’ve had the most wonderful time with you,” he said. “I’m pleased you returned to see me. Will I see you again tomorrow?”
Sam hesitated. He wanted to say yes- his skin tingled where Gabriel was touching him, and his stomach flip flopped whenever Gabriel smiled at him. The Prince made him feel like he’d never felt before, and Sam was sure this was what the beginning of love felt like. But at the same time, the stories Gabriel was telling made him feel uncomfortable- Sam knew he and Dean walked the fine line between good and evil sometimes, and that they had a great deal of blood on their hands, but Gabriel seemed to enjoy teaching people who’d betrayed him a lesson.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Gabriel said, noting Sam’s hesitation. “You’re reluctant to come back because you don’t want to hide in stables with me...even though there are many things we could do to entertain ourselves secluded away from prying eyes. Tomorrow we shall take a stroll through the grounds and I can show you off to my heart’s desire.”
He walked to the stable door, not waiting for a response, and Sam followed after him.
“I must return to the castle,” Gabriel announced, taking Sam’s hand once again and pressing it to his lips. “Until tomorrow,” he said, breath tickling the back of Sam’s hand.
And then he climbed up onto his horse and was gone.
Sam walked through the woods, all the way home.
Dean was dishing up bowls of stew, made of some unidentified meat. “I killed two ogres on my own today,” Dean said, spooning food into his mouth, then talking around the mouthful. “They stole all the fish I’d caught and I followed them back to their cave. They had three villagers tied up in there, ready for the barbeque. Could’ve done with some back-up.”
Sam took the bowl Dean offered, lifting up a spoon then letting the stew fall back into the bowl.
“Tell me this is made from the fish you caught,” Sam begged, even though he knew it wasn’t.
Dean shrugged. “They didn’t need it anymore, and in case you forgot, we’re a little low on funds right now,” he said, happily slurping away.
Sam set the bowl down. He wondered if Gabriel would still think his life was excitement and adventure if he saw them in their tiny cottage, eating ogre stew. Although, judging by the prince’s tales today, he’d probably think that the ogres had gotten their just desserts- that those who terrorised the people of his kingdom, eating whoever got in their path, deserved to be eaten themselves.
“I’m not hungry,” Sam announced, pushing his bowl across the table at Dean, who grinned up at him and tipped its contents into his own bowl.
Sam walked into the bedroom- the cottage was small enough they had to share- and flopped down on his bed.
“Cas?” he called, wishing that Castiel would appear.
“Yes, Sam?” Castiel asked, suddenly standing beside Sam’s bed.
Sam smiled in relief and sat up. “I saw Gabriel again today,” he said, looking up in time to see a twist of something odd in Castiel’s expression.
“Gabriel,” Castiel repeated. “It has not taken you long to become well acquainted with the prince.” It wasn’t a question but Sam nodded, smiling.
“He asked me to call him Gabriel,” he explained. “And then...told me about prisoners he’s had beheaded. It was a strange day.”
“It does sound strange,” Castiel agreed, and when Sam stared at him, his face was carefully blank.
“Am I doing the right thing?” Sam asked, letting himself fall back down to meet the hard mattress. “It feels so right, and yet...I don’t know why I’m doing this. I didn’t set out to meet a prince, but that’s what happened and I can’t help it if I’m falling in love with him.”
Castiel’s voice sounded a little tense as he replied, “Fate is a mysterious thing- we never know where we’re supposed to be, or who we’re supposed to be with until it happens.”
“But is this my fate?” Sam asked, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands over his face. “Is Gabriel my one true love? Are the things about him that bother me little things I’d forget over time? How am I supposed to know?”
“What do you want from me, Sam?” Castiel asked and Sam sighed.
“I wish you’d tell me what to do,” he said.
There was a long pause. “You must follow your heart,” Castiel said carefully.
Sam opened his eyes, but Castiel had disappeared and didn’t return when Sam wished for him.
On to Part 2.