The World has Moved On, NC-17 (2/?)
Title: The World Has Moved On (2/?)
Author: phar_ahkmenrah (halfblood alchemist)
Genre/Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU
Rating: NC-17 (for strong sexual content, blood and gore, violence and language)
Spoilers: None (AU)
Wordcount: WIP
Warnings: This fic will be riddled with strong sexual scenes, violent deaths, torture, graphic imagery, and scary scenes. Far far future fic, modeled after “the Gunslinger” series by Stephen King. NOT A CROSSOVER! (Has similar concept as the Supernatural series, but different presentation. *Character parallels, concept parallel etc*)
Summary: As a great author once said, too many years long since passed, “The world has moved on…”. Two brothers find themselves travelling across the lands of a world that time forgot, travelling to avenge the destruction of their village, and the death of their family and friends. On their journey they discover their destiny lies in the secret profession of their late father and find their world turned upside down when they discover a dark force is threatening to destroy mankind. Left to stop this devastation from wiping out their whole world alone, they find allegiance in the unlikeliest of partners: a young, inexperienced mage, renegade from his clan and rebellious to their arrogant, narrow-minded ways. This rag-tag trio of heroes holds the fate of the world in their hands… if they can face the truth.
Preview: *click for larger image*
~*~
Chapter 2
Dean awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh meat cooking over the revived fire. His stomach gave a longing growl and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He smiled across the way to his brother, as Sam cooked the poached pheasant over the happily roaring flames. Off in the distance, Impala and Jess munched field grass contentedly, nickering in surprise as a jack rabbit bolted from his burrow in surprise at the intrusion of noses from the two massive equines.
Dean smirked, sitting cross-legged before the fire as he reached across and grabbed a freshly cooked piece of meat from the small pile. The pickings were a bit slim; the pheasant had been rather small, but the brothers had lived off of less. This was nearly a banquet for them. “Any difficulty hunting the food without me???” Dean asked Sam, adding a hint of disappointment to his voice. He had missed out on the hunt itself.
Sam shrugged, cooking the last strips before adding them to the pile and taking his own helping. “Not much, actually. You didn’t miss out on anything exciting. Besides you seemed to need the sleep. You were rather restless last night.” Dean shrugged in response, chewing thoughtfully. Indeed, he had not slept as well the night before. The nagging presence of being watched had left him unable to sleep, but the feeling had passed eventually. After awhile, his sleep became more relaxed and he managed to slip deeper into slumber. He didn’t mention this, however. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but his sleep became more thorough when the feeling had faded… but it hadn’t gone away entirely.
“Just as well…” he muttered, taking a swig from the flask. He had just looked up to inquire about their current hunt, when he saw his younger brother pull a paper wrapped item out of a golden container. Sam screwed one end of the small paper cylinder into his mouth and leaned over the fire, lighting the end until it glowed ember. Satisfied, Sam leaned back and took a heavy drag, exhaling the smoke from his mouth. Normally, Dean wouldn’t comment on the smoking of tobacco, but this was different. He watched in distaste as the scarlet stained smoke ebbed from between Sam’s lips in a hearty exhale, the red vapor fading into the breeze. “Sam… I thought you agreed to quit.” He muttered annoyed. Sam shrugged, taking another drag. Devil’s Blood tobacco was the rarest to be found, and the most addictive. Damn that blonde wench… Ruby he believed her name was. They two had met the woman at a tavern in one of their past jaunts, and the girl had managed to worm her way into Sam’s bed that night, and passed along the highly addictive tobacco to him. Clearly, Sam’s obsession was still going strong.
“I’ll quit when I run out…” the younger brother muttered, blushing slightly. Dean rolled his eyes, pulling his tunic on over his leggings and cinching the belt tightly around his waist. “You said that the last time, and I found you scavenging the fields for that weed…” he retorted, standing up. Clicking his tongue slightly, he summoned Impala, who came trotting over obediently. Running a hand through his horse’s mane, he looked to his brother. “Be ready in ten minutes. Crowley is still at large out here.”
Sam rolled his eyes, standing up. This wasn’t the first time they had gone on a bounty for this infamous thief. “Fine, fine…” he muttered, standing up and packing his saddle bags, dousing the flames as he worked. As they prepared to depart Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, mounting into the saddle easily. “I mean it Sam… if you do not throw those cigarettes away I will destroy them myself.” And without another word, the two set off, leaving not a clue behind to their presence in the field.
~*~
“My boy…” a grey haired elder said contentedly, clapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder in good faith. “You’re trainings have finally been completed. It is now time for your initiation hunt into the clan.” The initiation hunt was a big event for all of the Enochians. Everyone gathered around the elder and the young man to see him off on his hunt. Castiel was stripped down to his black leggings and boots, sigils and war paint staining his pale skin in red hues. The black tattoo around his eye shone through the red paint strip over his eyes, and he held a ceremonial dagger in his fist. He flexed his lean arms, the paint seeping into every cut line on his skin. He was truly their finest warrior to be initiated.
“Indeed, Zachariah. I take my vows and set off to slay the Wendigo. I will return victorious… or not at all.” He stated on reflex, his voice gravely in determination. The Wendigo he was to slay was the largest to be spotted in these lands, having slain many heavily armed hunters in the past. Castiel was to destroy the beast with his bare hands, armed with nothing but the dagger. Once the beast was slain he would remove the head and return to the clan and finally receive his “wings”. The wings tattoo on his back would be a symbol of his status as a warrior of the clan, but the Enochican sigil that would be carved into the center of his chest would seal his powers forever. He shook with anticipation, ready to be on his way.
Annahriel smiled to her betrothed, kissing him before stepping back to join the others. “Godspeed, my love.” She said, bowing her head slightly to him. The others gathered around him followed suit, giving him their blessing. Zachariah was last. He pressed a hand to the young man’s chest, wishing him well before side stepping. Castiel nodded once, and made off into the thick trees, nary making a sound as he strode over the loose leaves.
Tracking the beast expertly, Castiel found his first clue… a massive footprint embedded into the loose mud of the forest floor. The foot easily spanned the width of his chest, and he swallowed slightly, steeling himself. The footprint was fresh, and from the sight of the newly torn-apart carcass of a doe, it was a ravenous beast. Castiel adjusted the grip on his dagger, and strode on, following the now bloody footprints of the Wendigo. Keen eyes scanned the thick trees as he went, adrenaline sharpening his senses. Every rustle, every movement kept him on edge, calm and strong as he had been trained for.
It did not take long before chaos soon ensued. Off to his right, the great beast roared, crashing through the trees in pursuit of a new victim. Castiel instantly tensed, his eyes widening. The hunt could not be disrupted! If the beast escaped and he was unsuccessful, he would return to the clan shamed and exiled from their presence. He could not let this happen. Whatever had irked the Wendigo was putting his way in jeopardy. Abandoning caution, Castiel darted through the trees nimbly, making straight for the beast. It was now or never. War cry ringing true, Castiel attacked.
~*~
It didn’t take long for the Winchesters to pick up the trail of Crowley. He was a bumbling fool and left clues everywhere he went. After a short pursuit, the brothers had the thief cornered in the trees. The thick underbrush left them unable to bring the horses past the tree line so the hunt took longer than necessary, but they were satisfied. There was no way Crowley could escape.
“Ah boys it appears that we meet again. It’s been too long.” Crowley sniggered, crossing his arms. Dean raised his sword to his throat, sneering darkly at him. “Too long indeed. However I would have assumed that you learned your lesson, Crowley. Come quietly and we won’t rough you up too much before we turn you over.” Sam nodded, his crossbow notched and ready in case the thief tried anything. Crowley smiled, uncrossing his arms. “Oh but you don’t want my help???? It is a shame. I hear you boys are really on the lookout for something interesting…” he said vaguely, testing the waters. When he received a nervous response, he laughed, knowing he had them. “Indeed. You boys aren’t what you appear to be are you??? Looking for something special… or someone. Several someones, ne?”
Dean glared, jabbing the end of his sword into his chest. “Fuck you, Crowley.” He retorted, and the thief laughed. “Oh what a shame, I would have been more than glad to assist you. But if you really don’t want my help, I suppose no deal’s no deal. However, I don’t appreciate you tone with me, and your terribly crude behavior. Perhaps you wish to speak with my associate??”
Sam lowered the crossbow slightly, looking at him skeptically. “Associate??? What’s the meaning of this Crowley?” The thief shrugged, looking up at the much larger man. “Nothing of great importance… but alas I fear my time is short. Enjoy your romp in the woods with my good friend.” He said, disappearing unnaturally quickly. It barely gave Dean and Sam time to register what had happened before an inhuman growl ripped through the trees. The brothers whipped around in time to see a massive beast tearing through the trees like paper, charging the two of them. “WENDIGO!!!” Sam yelled, darting off to the side as the brothers split. The beast lunged at them, ready to rip limbs from bodies, blood thirsty. It unleashed another howl, swinging its massive arms about in hopes to capture one of the two intruders in its territory.
Dean met up with Sam again, the two panting heavily under the cover of some loose brush. “Shit… this is the biggest I’ve ever encountered!!!” Dean gasped, gripping the sword tightly. Sam nodded mutely, trying to think of an escape route. None came to mind. “He’s blocking our path… we’ll have to fight our way through.” He said unhelpfully. Dean gave him a look of disgust, but their revere was cut short, when the beast ganged through the underbrush, sending them on another mad scatter to flee the monster. A wise man knows when to run, Dean thought to himself, leaping a log in escape. A familiar cry for help caught him and he whipped around in time to see the massive creature slam a huge fist into his brother’s chest, sending the man careening through the trees and skirting across the leave strewn ground.
“SAM!!” Dean yelled, darting back into the fray. He raised his sword to strike the beast, knowing this could be their last fight if his aim was not true. However, before he could even move to bring the sword down on the beast, another cry filled the air, this time confident, powerful. Dean whipped around, half expecting another beast to join its comrade but instead a small blur launched itself at the beast, leaping into the air and onto the creature’s back. Dean stood stock still, staring in shock. It was a man… a young man who couldn’t have been more than half of Dean’s weight. Flashes of red body paint caught his eye, as the young man clambered up the back of the confused Wendigo, plunging the blade of a dagger into the back of its neck.
The Wendigo roared in pain, slashing at its own back in retaliation. The massive claws found purchase on the attacker’s chest, sending him flying from its presence. Dean took this momentary lapse of concentration off of himself to tend to his brother. “Sam!! Sam look at me!!” he called shaking him slightly. Sam groaned, sitting up with a hand clasped to side of his head. A few bruises and a nasty headache were all Dean would have to worry about on his younger brother and he sighed in relief. “Sam… you’re not going to believe this. There’s a half-naked man attacking the Wendigo with a dagger.” He said, helping the younger Winchester to his feet. Sam stared at him for a moment before quirking an eyebrow. “Not two of us suffering the same head trauma…” he said skeptically. Dean shook his head, gripping Sam’s chin and directing his attention to the fight before them. Sam’s jaw fell open at the sight. “Hell…”
The fight was in full swing at this point. The Wendigo and man rounded on each other, staring the other down. The man crouched low to the ground, the bloody dagger gripped tightly in his hand. His chest heaved forth a surge of blood from the slash marks, yet he did not seem fazed by this. The Wendigo extracted its claws again, gnashing its gory maw at the youth. With a trumpeting roar, the beast charged first. This was exactly what the attacker wanted. When the beast was merely feet away, the man leapt into the air, his boot connecting with the massive jaw, throwing the beast off kilter. Using his own body momentum, the man rappelled off the nearest tree, launching himself at the Wendigo.
Tackling the monster to the ground, they grappled hard, the huge beast somehow failing to overpower the small, lithe man underneath him. An agonized roar later signed that the dagger had plunged directly into its heart. Tearing flesh, dripping blood stained the youth underneath it, nearly being crushed to death by the massive weight of the beast. Yet he pressed on. Now that the beast was weakened and on its last edge, the man wormed his way from beneath the creature and clambered up its back again.
With weaker movements, the Wendigo tried again to dislodge the pest from its hairy back, but he would be having none of that. The man hung on for dear life, plunging the dagger directly through the left cornea of the beast. There was a pop, a squelch and a shriek of agony from the beast as it clawed at its now empty eye socket, flailing desperately as the blood flowed. It seemed that the fight would be over soon. However, this confidence proved wrong as the monster managed to get a hold of the man’s leg and ripped him from its back, throwing him hard against a tree. There was a crunch of bones, and from what Dean could see, the man’s ribs received a nasty crack. The clawed hands of the beast tried to crush the man, but it was losing blood fast and growing weak.
It took minimal struggling before the man was able to free himself and leapt nimbly away from the creature. It staggered after him, but soon dropped to its knees, growing disoriented, weak, blood staining the light fur a dark ominous red. Silence filled the clearing; the only sounds to be heard were the panting, desperate breaths of the beast.
The man stepped forward, bloody dagger in hand. He observed the beast for a moment before striking the finishing blow, the golden blade searing through the Wendigo’s throat. Blood gurgled forth as the beast finally met its doom. Pitching forward, the forest floor shook with the impact of the fall. It was over. The beast was slain, the youth victorious.
Dean gaped at the results of the fight. He had not expected the man to walk from this fight at all, let alone slay the Wendigo. It was their own personal story of David and Goliath, and had Dean not seen the fight for himself, he would have scoffed at the idea. He glanced at Sam, who nodded, his eyes wide as they inched into the clearing. The man was obviously a killing machine, and if necessary, the brothers wanted to be ready in case their personal savior turned on them.
Dean paused mid-step, his eyes trained on the hunched over form of the young man. He was kneeling on the ground near the head of the Wendigo, and he was… praying? Dean stepped closer and sure enough his suspicions were confirmed. The man’s head was bowed slightly to the fallen creature, victor praying for the death of the failure. After his silent vigil was complete, the man grabbed the dagger again and began sawing through the massive neck of the beast casually. Dean grimaced, feeling slightly nauseated by the sight of the young man, blood drenching his arms up to his elbows as he hacked the head off of the beast. Sinewy tendons snapped audibly as muscle was severed, the man’s face resolute in his actions.
Finally, as the head came clean after minute struggling to saw through the bone of the neck, Dean cleared his throat, catching the newcomer’s attention. “Hey… we… my brother and I wanted to thank you for saving us. I mean if you hadn’t come along, we would have been done for.” He said as the youth stood and turned to face him. Dean’s heart jolted slightly in his chest. The man had the most intense blue eyes he ever saw, the icy, cerulean depths capturing him and pulling him in. Dean felt that same sensation in his chest that he had felt the night before while he slept by the fire, and he swallowed hard, staring at the younger man. The black tattoo and the red facial tattoo crinkled in confusion as he contemplated the stranger before him, cocking his head to the side in innocent confusion.
Dean’s eyes roamed the man’s body. He was completely shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of tunic trousers and leather boots. The sigils that were drawn into his skin blurred with the fresh bouts of blood coursing from the slash marks, and a nasty bruise was spreading across the width of his ribs and stomach from where the monster had tried to crush him against the tree. The hand that held the dagger was also bruised but his grip was firm and true. He rolled his shoulder slightly, staring at Dean for a moment with such intensity it made Dean falter. Finally the hunter cleared his throat, looking back up into the eyes of the man before him. “W-who are you???”
The young savior blinked slightly as if he didn’t understand. Sam leaned over and whispered to Dean, “Perhaps he does not speak the High Language??” However, his trepidation was proven wrong as the man looked at him with that same intense gaze, eyes boring into his. “Indeed I understand the High Tongues. My people are well versed in your culture.” Dean gaped slightly. The man’s voice was low and gravely, sending a shock to his stomach. The man nodded, looking back into Dean’s jade eyes. “I am Castiel, mage of the Enochians. You had disrupted my initiation hunt.” He said bluntly, almost accusingly. Dean frowned, staring at him. “Initiation hunt?”
Castiel nodded, his features softening slightly. “Yes. It is my final test before being fully initiated into the warrior class. But it is no matter. My hunt is complete and I was victorious.” Sam gaped at him, his eyes dancing with excitement. “Enochians??? I feared that they were merely myth. Hardly anyone knows of your clan!!” he said animatedly. Castiel nodded to him, a smile on his lips that seemed nearly out of place, yet Dean couldn’t pull his gaze away. “Indeed we are as much alive and as you have most likely heard of us. But I fear you have not properly introduced yourselves.”
Dean straightened up, looking proud. “You may have heard of us as well. We are Deanolo and Samuel Winchester, famed bounty hunters.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s obvious pride, but smirked knowingly when Castiel merely gave him a confused look. “I fear I know nothing of you…” he said. Dean frowned, looking a bit deflated. “You have not? We were on the tracks of a thief that had escaped us before the Wendigo attacked. Perhaps you saw him depart as we were attacked?”
Castiel shook his head, hiding a dawning realization behind a resolute face. These were the men he had seen the night before!! He silently prayed thanks for his opportunity to meet them finally. His curiosity had nearly gotten the better of him; lest he not be prepared for such an important hunt the following day. “Unfortunately I do not know of anyone fleeing this part of the forest.” He went silent for a moment, looking over his shoulder at the decapitated Wendigo. “… perhaps you wish to join me?? I see that your brother here is interested in our culture and we are accommodating people.” He said over his shoulder, hefting the massive head onto his shoulder as if it were nothing short of feathers.
Dean swallowed again. The young man was very strong, his body sculpted perfectly for fighting. He shook himself slightly, running the thoughts from his mind as he heard an excited noise from his younger brother. “I suppose it would do us no harm. Perhaps we may learn more of…” he faltered slightly, feeling a jab in the side of his ribs from his much larger, younger brother. “… of the escapee.” He said catching his near slip up. Castiel looked up, hearing the falter and he gave them a suspicious look. “Very well. Follow me.” He said and without another word, set off into the trees.
Sam grabbed his brother’s elbow, glaring at him. “Do you find it wise to nearly give away our true mission, brother?” Dean looked apologetic, clearing his throat. The man’s eyes had nearly undone him, and he found himself gazing over his shoulder at his retreating form. “I apologize, Sam. Come he will leave us behind if we do not follow, and I dare not remain out here lest others like that come and find us.” He said, patting his brother on the shoulder. He saw the nervous glance over his shoulder and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Impala and Jess will be fine. They will fend for themselves until we find what we are looking for.” He said guiding him to follow the young savior. Despite the blood staining his frame, the sunlight cast light upon him in such a way, Dean could not shake the feeling of something far more ethereal.
Next Chapter
Chapter 1