fic: Out of Wilting Petals, Love Blooms [Part 1/3]

[wolfish_willow]

Masterpost
Prologue



Part One

The bookshop wasn't anything spectacular. It didn't pride itself on carrying the most exotic tomes one could find, nor did it make itself stand out any more than the other shops in town. But it was Sam Winchester's favorite place to spend his free time. It was like a safe haven for Sam. Neutral ground where he could relax and let go of his worries about his brother or work. The books didn't care if Sam was single and dreaming of bigger things than the small town he and his brother lived in. The books paid no heed to Sam’s want and need for something else. Something more. All they cared about was that someone would read them, take in the words on display, and perhaps get some deeper meaning out of them. It also had the added benefit of being the one place he knew he'd never run into Luc. Sam was sure that the only books the man ever picked up were filled with either numbers or pictures, neither of a kind that would interest Sam much.

That bookshop was where Sam found himself on yet another ordinary day, another day of helping his brother at the house and dodging Luc and dealing with everything. But he didn't have to worry about any of that, not while here in his haven.

The books all seemed content; each in its proper place and Sam loved the order of it all. The quiet hush of the shop put him completely at ease while he glanced at the shelves around him.

The shop was filled with all the genres anyone could possibly desire, and it had enough books to choose from to keep Sam busy in any free time he ever had. Anna, the feisty redheaded owner of the bookshop - as well as the cottage attached to it - always made sure to get a hold of all the books in his favorite genres, because she knew he would keep coming back and giving her his business.

He found himself near the back of the shop, as he so often did in his time spent there, and let his fingertips glide lightly along the spines as he browsed for any new titles. Since he was young, Sam had been fascinated by the supernatural, and anything different from the norm. This fascination always had him coming back to the shop to pick up whatever books he could find on the subject.

It never failed to amaze - and slightly sadden - him that so many of the books in front of him were given darker bindings, sharp-looking fonts, anything to give onlookers a feeling of mystery, but also a small sense that there might be something dangerous lying in their pages, in their words. Sam had never understood how something being different must automatically make it bad, something to be feared or avoided. But then, he was generally considered to be a bit odd himself, so he supposed it could just be a matter of perception.

His fingers paused in their movement over an unfamiliar title and he hummed curiously to himself as he slowly slid it from its spot on the shelf. Turning it over in his hand, Sam knew he hadn't seen this book before. Enchanting, read the title. Swirls of blues, purples, and greens made up the cover and Sam knew this was his next new book. Smiling, he flipped through the pages, taken in by the brief descriptions of the illustrations within.

Shutting the book, Sam held it at his side while he made his way to his other favorite area of the shop, Fantasy. His older brother, Dean, never failed to tease him whenever Sam came back with another book from those shelves, but that didn't deter him. He needed an escape when he couldn't come to town to get away from his life, and tales of magic, sword fights, and princes helped give him that. Sam knew he would never actually abandon his family, his brother to have adventures of his own; delving into these books made that fact easier to accept, if only slightly.

The spines of the books in the Fantasy section were always more colorful than anywhere else in the shop and Sam thought that was fitting. They weren't afraid to be different, they had nothing to hide and no worries, much like many of the characters within the pages. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he browsed over the shelves, thinking how he wished everyone could be like the characters in the stories laid out before him.

A soft shuffling sound came from behind him and Sam didn't have to turn to know who was standing there. "Doesn't look like you've got anything new for me."

"Nope, not in this section," Anna replied with a playful smile as she walked up, leaning sideways against the bookshelf.

Sam laughed softly as he picked out a book from the shelf in front of him. When Anna caught sight of the cover she quirked an eyebrow in question, "Now, I could be wrong, what with all the books you're always buying, but I'm pretty sure you've already got that one."

He smiled at the teasing lilt in her voice and thought, for possibly the millionth time since he met her, how grateful he was for the friend he'd made in Anna. She got his love of books, understood - which was more than he could say for anyone else he knew.

Sam shrugged as they walked to the front of the shop, pulling his wallet out. "You know me, if it's not a bit battered, the book's not loved. And I loved my last copy so much, I think I broke it."

A faint ding rang out in the background, and Sam's smile widened. "Muffins or cookies?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of Anna's attached cottage.

The smile on Anna's face grew as well, eyes twinkling as she answered, "Both, and I'll give you one of each if you tell me the truth about how many times you've read this book." He nodded and they finished with his purchase before Anna walked out from behind the counter.

"Are you getting anything new soon?" Sam asked as Anna led the way to her home. She made her way over to the oven to pull out the treats, but Sam missed her answer as he got lost in his thoughts; not an unusual occurrence for him. He wondered just how many times he had read his book. Keeping track wasn't important to Sam; it was all about losing himself within its pages upon each reading. The adventure, the intrigue, and the romance of it all just called to him.

The sight of Anna holding out a plate with a mix of blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies brought Sam out of his wonderings and he realized just how far away from the conversation he'd been. When he lifted his hand to take one, Anna slapped it lightly with a tsk.

"Nuh uh. We had a deal, remember?" Anna smirked lightly at Sam's sheepish look and quirked an eyebrow, "Well? Just how many times have you read that book?"

He chuckled lightly, "More than I could count. Anyone else would call me crazy, but the nearest estimation I can think of? I'd say at least fifty times." Sam finished with a wink, snatching one of the cookies from the plate before Anna could stop him.

The two sat in companionable silence for several minutes, each enjoying a cookie and their company.

"So how's that wife of yours? Where is she, anyway?" Normally, the three of them would sit and enjoy the baked goods together, so it was a little strange to have her missing.

"Jo's doing great! Just got a new job, so she's working right now," Anna answered, a soft smile gracing her face.

"Must be different, getting used to having different schedules now."

Anna shrugged and her smile grew wider. "Yeah, but this is good for her. Good for us. And she's actually not gone too long, you just happened to show up earlier than usual."

Sam nodded and pushed away from the counter. "That I did. But it's probably about time I head home." He smiled and took the blueberry muffin she held out for him, glad to have something to munch on during his walk. "I'll drop by again next week?"

"You better," she answered, waving him out as he left her cottage and made his way down the dirt road in the direction of his home.

***

The town, much like the bookshop, was nothing spectacular. There was a tavern, where most of the village's inhabitants could be found in the evenings, a salon, a barbershop, and a bakery all not too far from the bookshop. Further in the town were the hardware/supply store and local market, where almost anything a person could need was in reach. The bookshop was the closest to Sam's home, yet another reason he enjoyed visiting; he didn't have to deal with the daily hubbub of town life.

A light breeze had Sam's chestnut hair fluttering around his face as he walked along the dirt path. He opened his newly acquired book, determined to love this copy until it was just as worn as the one in his room. Seeing the familiar words, the familiar characters, lifted his mood even more than the slight sugar rush he had from the cookies he'd devoured with Anna.

Minutes passed as he read in silence before he turned into a slightly denser area of trees, his shortcut home - as much as Sam liked to have as much time as possible to read, he knew he should get home to Dean before long. Another breeze blew around him, reminding him of the blueberry muffin he held in his hand as its aroma wafted over him.

At the first bite of muffin, Sam didn't bother stifling his moan of pleasure. As long as he'd known her, Anna was always a whiz in the kitchen, especially with baking and Sam had wondered on more than one occasion why she didn't have a bakery of her own rather than a bookshop. Not that he would complain; their friendship was another part of what made his trips into town worth it.

"I bet that's not the only thing that can make you moan, Sam."

Sam started at the voice, nearly dropping both his books and his half a muffin before he caught himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing for that voice to have been nothing more than his imagination. Turning, Sam opened his eyes and his hazel gaze met a pair of cold blue eyes settled on him. A smirk formed on the man's face as Sam's eyes took in the rest of him; neatly trimmed stubble covering a firm jaw, dirty blond hair looking as neat as ever. Sam stifled a sigh as the man came closer to him and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off before he could do more than take a breath.

"Would you do that for me, Sam?" Sam shook his head and tried to say something, anything as he took a step back with each one forward the other man took. "Moan for me?" A blush worked its way over Sam's face and he opened his mouth again, but was unable to get a word in as Luc continued talking and stepping into his space. "I could do that and more, you know. I can give you everything you've ever wanted." Sam's back collided with one of the larger trees and Luc stepped further into his space, effectively caging his lean frame between the two seemingly immovable forces.

Luc's smirk widened as he caught sight of the books in Sam's arms and before Sam could react the other man had grabbed them, eyes skimming over the covers. Sam finally found an opportunity to speak as the blue eyed man remained occupied, and kept his voice steady, "Luc, may I have my books, please?"

His words were ignored as Luc spoke once more, gaze lifting from the books to Sam's face. "You know, I could be plenty enchanting enough for," a soft chuckle escaped the man's lips, "and to you, if you'd just say yes to me, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes at the line, but shuddered when Luc's hand brushed over his arm, "I don't think so, Luc."

Unfortunately, Luc seemed to think Sam's shudder was from lust, rather than his dislike of getting caught in this situation again, and disregarded Sam's words as he leaned into his space further, straight for his lips. The taller man was still trapped against the tree, but turned his head to the side before Luc's lips could meet his own. Somehow the other man took this as an invitation to mouth at his neck.

That was the last straw for Sam, who dropped the half muffin he'd been holding to grip Luc's arms and push the man out of his space. "I'd like my books please," he said firmly, struggling to keep his voice steady, "I really need to be heading home." Luc held the books out to Sam, but when the taller man moved to take them, Luc didn't release his grip immediately.

"I'm not in the mood for games today, Luc. Let go." Sam kept eye contact with Luc, who continued to smirk at him in a way the man must have thought was charming.

"I could give you anything you want, Sam. Just promise me you'll think on it."

Sam barely resisted rolling his eyes at the offer, but nodded and did nothing to mask his sarcasm as he spoke, "Yeah. I'll think about it."

The other man finally released his books, having either ignored or not recognized his sarcasm, and brushed Sam's bangs from his eyes before turning and walking away.

Sam huffed out a relieved breath and shook his hair back into his face before pushing up from the tree, leaving the discarded muffin behind. It looked like it was about time to find a new route home.

***

Sam let himself into the house quietly. Dean wouldn't have been able to hear much from his work room, but there was always a chance and Sam didn't want to have to deal with an injured brother on top of trying to calm down over his encounter with Luc. He headed directly for the work room in the back of the house, barely sparing a glance at the living room on his way.

Dean was sitting at a wooden bench, short, dirty blond hair slightly disheveled looking - probably from pulling at it in his frustrations - when Sam walked through the doorway. He heard his brother huffing at whatever contraption he was fixing or coming up with now and Sam shook his head, smiling. Really, his brother could be great entertainment and he didn't even have to try. The room smelled faintly of gun oil and leather, much like Dean after spending hours and hours in the place, and was fairly tidy considering how much of a slob his brother could be. But one couldn't really afford to risk tripping or grabbing the wrong supplies when working with weapons, one of the few rules Dean was adamant about.

The work bench Dean sat at held a rag that looked to have some sort of oil over it and Sam wondered if maybe his brother had finally finished whatever he'd been working on enough to oil it up and make it presentable. There was no denying how curious the youngest Winchester had been - curious was practically his default setting - when his brother started locking himself away and not letting anyone, including Sam, know what it was. It looked like he would finally get the chance to find out.

He continued to lean against the doorframe until Dean finally turned and acknowledged his presence, eyebrow quirking up in amusement; probably over the two books held at his chest. It wouldn't surprise Sam if his brother had known he'd been standing in the room the entire time; they'd gotten good at knowing where the other was while growing up together.

When it looked like Dean wasn't done with his work, - the blond turned back to the workbench and continued huffing out his frustrations - Sam hopped up onto the small counter next to the sink where Dean washed up, and cracked open the book Luc had disrupted him from reading.

***

Sometimes Sam couldn't understand why he bothered trying to spend time with his brother after his trips to town. They always seemed to end up having the same conversation over and over again. The words may have changed, but it always came back to the same thing.

"Come on, Sam. You can't keep yourself from having fun just because you're scared of getting burned again."

Sam knew his brother was just trying to help, but Dean didn't understand. It was easy for his brother to stick to one-night stands - love 'em and leave 'em. When Sam had sex, it needed to mean something more than just getting off. It might not have made him sound very "macho" or "manly", - just another bullet to add to the list of what made him odd - but he didn't really care. It wasn't like he didn't have a reason to be wary about letting someone close - Ruby had had him so twisted up in knots he didn't know which way was up. And Jake...

Jake had been the one. Sam had known they were going to work out, be together forever, and somehow… he wasn't sure when it happened but they'd grown apart. He couldn't even be angry at the man; it wasn't anyone's fault. But that didn't stop it from hurting, and Sam didn't see anything wrong with being more cautious about who he'd let in. Not that his experiences kept him from wanting more, Sam was just being careful.

"I don't just want to get laid, Dean. We've talked about this before. It's not about me being afraid of getting hurt," Sam would never admit that as being part of his reasoning to Dean, anyways, "But I don't feel right having sex just to have sex. And you know it."

He watched as Dean paused in his tinkering - Sam still didn't know what his brother was working on and the curiosity was killing him - to turn his way. Sam hated when Dean got like this, pushing him; Dean only did it because he loved him and wanted his little brother to be happy, but that didn't make it any easier to listen to.

"How would you know that, Sam? You've never done it. You could put aside that crazy need for meaningful relationships long enough to give it a try. Why don't you give Luc a chance? The guy’s hot and he practically owns half the town."

Sam scoffed at Dean's suggestion, not bothering to repress his shudder at the man's name.

"I'm not going to sleep with Luc, Dean."

"I'm not saying you've got to fall in love with the guy, Sam. But it wouldn't kill you to get laid by someone who's so obviously interested."

"Interested..? That's one word for it," Sam snorted and closed his book as he hopped off the small counter he'd been occupying, walking out of the room and leaving his brother grumbling behind him. It was getting tiring; Dean's repeated attempts at getting him to sleep with Luc. The man came off as more obsessed than anything else. Luc never seemed to leave him alone when he was in town. He always stepped into Sam’s space and made his...intentions toward Sam impossible to miss. And on the odd night when Sam would accompany Dean to the tavern in town, Luc acted downright possessive, like Sam was already his.

Sam kept walking, not paying attention to where he was going. The dirt crunched softly beneath his feet with each step, kicking up small puffs of dust in his wake. It wasn't until he was nudged by something soft and furry that he realized he'd ended up in the stable holding Impala. She looked at him for a moment when his attention finally focused onto his surroundings before nudging him again and Sam couldn't help but smile.

"Alright, girl. Come on out," he said as he unlatched the stall, allowing the black beauty room to stretch her legs out in the open.

Sam fell in step with the horse, reaching out and petting down her neck as they walked out of the stable into the field that stretched beyond their house. Impala stayed at a pace the human could keep up with as they made their way to an open patch of grass; dandelions interspersed throughout. The pair always seemed to end up out there after Sam and Dean's fights. The younger Winchester needed the space, always had, to cool off. Because he knew Dean didn't deserve his anger, not really; his brother hadn't ever seen Luc at his most possessive and Sam hadn't shared. He preferred trying to push it out of his mind.

To do that after a fight, he needed to feel free. Have room to move. And Impala, the genius she was, seemed to understand that Sam benefited from her quiet companionship. She may have been a horse, but she was still a part of their family, and Sam loved being able to turn to that when things felt out of control. It helped, too, that the horse didn't choose sides. The only reason it was Sam she walked with and not Dean was that he was the first to make it outside. He figured her equal treatment of the two of them did the both of them good.

It was still fairly early in the day - Sam having made his way to town when the sun was just up, earlier than he normally went. He’d left Anna's before the town became the bustling, busy place it got to be as the morning went on. The sun was high in the sky, no clouds around to block its warm rays as Sam found an extra soft mound of dirt and grass and promptly plopped himself onto his back, closing his eyes. The sun felt good on his skin, helped to drain the last of his tension - from both his meeting with Luc and the argument with Dean - out until he finally started feeling boneless and relaxed. Sam was peripherally aware of Impala's presence somewhere to his left, probably nibbling away at some of the greens around them, and relaxed even further until he heard his brother calling for him to head back to their house.

Sam huffed a put upon sigh but smiled at the excitement clear in his brother's voice. Pushing up from the ground, the younger Winchester opened his eyes and found Impala trotting around in the field; Sam obviously wasn't the only one who could tell how excited Dean was. Sam stood, brushing dirt and grass from his pants before whistling, calling Impala his way. After trotting to him, they both walked home the same they walked out there, side by side as Sam ran his hand over the horse's neck.

***

"This is what you've been working on all this time?" Sam asked, unable to keep the awe out of his voice as he looked at the device on the work bench.

On the bench sat an intricately designed crossbow. Its size explained why Sam could never see what it was from behind Dean; it was barely the length of his or Dean's forearm. It had an iron trigger and Sam couldn't help but be impressed. The iron trigger would allow for better aim, as it could be kept cocked and ready for longer periods of time.

His brother had carved symbols all over it - black lines etched into the light wood. Sam recognized them as many of the symbols he'd seen in various books he'd bought. Loops and swirls interconnected; tribal-looking and never with a starting or ending point. No wonder it took him so long to finish, Sam thought as he turned back to look at his brother who stood behind him, practically thrumming with excitement.

"That's my baby. I did everything I could to get her as close to perfect as humanly possible. What do you think, Sammy?"

In light of Dean's enthusiasm and hard work, Sam ignored the name - this time.

"I think you did one hell of a job, Dean," he smiled at his brother, allowing some of Dean's excitement to bleed into him. "You finished it in time? That weapons show is pretty soon, right?"

Since Dean started working on weapons, and creating pieces of his own, his brother had gone to the weapons show that was held not too far from the town they now lived in. It was one of the main reasons they'd come to live there, though the bookshop hadn't hurt Sam's vote in staying. And now his brother had something more amazing than he'd ever created before to show off and it could only help them in the future; the more people that realized how good Dean was at his work, the more would come to him for commissions. And Sam knew that was something Dean strived for.

"Yep. I just finished the last of the etchings and wanted to show you the finished product before I get packed up and ready to go."

"Well, you've shown me. What the hell are you standing around for? The faster you get there the faster you become world famous and I can mooch off you for life."

Sam acted like he didn't feel the punch to his shoulder as his brother walked out of the room and he laughed at the exasperated look on Dean's face.

***

Dean looked over his shoulder one last time, waving goodbye to his grinning brother, before he steered Impala to the right, the direction he'd taken to get to the show every year since they moved to town.

The sun had begun to set as he left his house and brother behind. Dean led Impala deeper into the forest, taking the road he was familiar with after years of travelling it, and the trees blocked the small amount of light left illuminating their part of the world. Before it became so dark he couldn't see his hand in front of his nose, Dean pulled out the lantern he made sure to carry and lit it; light cascaded out as the oiled wick burned behind it’s glass enclosure.

Each step forward was one step closer to the show, and the opportunity to show off something that had taken so much time and effort to create. He kept the crossbow wrapped carefully in his pack, hanging at his right, unwilling to risk it falling free of its packaging.

Coming to a fork in the road, Dean looked from left to right, weighing his options. Every year he steered Impala left, down the path he'd become familiar with. But it always took longer than he liked to get there and he didn't want to ride with his creation any longer than he had to. Glancing between the two paths once more, his lips thinned to a determined line and he pulled the reins on Impala enough to turn them to the right. She whinnied quietly at the change in routine but he patted her neck and cooed gently at her to just take the shortcut. The horse didn't seem overly thrilled with the change in plans, but she listened - forever the loyal one - and they were headed on their journey down a new path.

They'd been on the road barely thirty minutes when something spooked Impala, causing her to buck. Dean, whose grip had been loose on the reins, flew off the horse and landed ungracefully on his back, head connecting with a dull thud against the hard-packed earth. With a low groan, Dean carefully pushed himself to sit, glancing up as Impala slowly calmed down. When she stood over him, he could swear there were two Impalas looking down at him, their black fur shining dimly in the flickering light - thankfully the lantern hadn’t cracked or guttered completely during his fall.

He stood, holding a hand to his throbbing head as he tried to understand why the ground seemed intent on swaying beneath his feet. Impala took her place by his side and he leaned against her as they started walking along the road again, only stopping when a large gate appeared in front of them. Or maybe it had been there the entire time; Dean couldn't be sure with everything swirling around him, making his already aching head hurt worse.

The gate opened on its own, or so it appeared to Dean, and he barely made it two steps beyond before he collapsed to the ground and everything was engulfed by darkness.

***

"I say we just poke the moron with a stick. See what happens then," a raspy, accented voice permeated the darkness he'd been surrounded by. It didn't sound familiar, and Dean was sure he would have been offended at being called a moron had he been able to focus long enough to do so.

"I do not understand how that would be of any help, Crowley," a slightly agitated voice came from closer than the other had and the rumble of it, however quiet, reverberated within the pounding in his head.

Dean didn't know what was going on or who was talking, but he certainly didn't expect to see what he did when he opened his eyes. The room around him was dim, probably still dark out, he thought; the ceilings over him were ridiculously high and from what he could see without having to move his throbbing head were adorned in ancient-looking tapestries.

When he remembered the reason he opened his eyes in the first place, Dean swiveled his eyes around, searching out the owners of the voices he was hearing.

"It might not do anything to help, but I will most certainly be entertained," that accented voice, Crowley he had been called, replied to the other voice in the room.

They sounded close enough that Dean knew at least one should have been in his line of sight, even without moving his head; only there was no one around.

"I would appreciate it if you kept any further comments to yourself. His situation could be dire for all we know, as you are well aware," the gravelly voice retorted.

"It was only a suggestion. No need to get your knickers in a twist."

"Your suggestions are of no use to me. So I suggest you find another spot of the castle to occupy if you refuse to be of any assistance."

"Um, guys?" Dean heard a third, decidedly female, voice pipe in timidly, as though she really didn't want to interrupt the bickering pair, but felt she had to.

"I see no reason to be very helpful to this moron. He's
the one who stumbled in uninvited and promptly passed out. As far as I'm concerned, pretty boy here can stumble right back on out."

"Crowley..." the gravel-rough voice growled low, tone caught somewhere between annoyed and bordering on angry.

"Guys, really, there's something you - "

"Castiel..." Crowley's voice cut off the girl's words with his mocking reply.

"Guys!" the girl yelled, causing Dean to wince as the volume threatened to cause his head to explode.

Silence filled the air for a long, stunned moment afterward; Dean was beyond grateful for the slight reprieve from all the snarking.

"Look at his eyes," her voice once again that meek level it had started with, "I think he's coming to."

Dean blinked, sure that he’d hit his head harder than he thought, when a coat rack stepped - stepped - into view, gazing down at him with wide, piercing blue eyes. It took him blinking his eyes several times before he realized the image in front of him wasn't going away.

Scrambling to his feet, rough ground scraping at his palms, Dean jumped a step back from the coat rack that was watching him with what looked like concern, though he couldn't figure out how something that should have been inanimate could look concerned in the first place. He quickly looked around, remembering the other voices he'd heard, to see a long, delicate looking perfume bottle with brown eyes peering up at him cautiously. Another twist around and he was met with a cello, sleek and elegant, with murky green eyes and an expression that screamed of distaste - though at Dean or the situation as a whole, the man couldn't tell.

Finally, Dean turned back to face the coat rack - who had come closer to him while he'd been twisting around - and let out a hysterical laugh.

"You... you're a..," it took Dean a moment to draw in enough breath to finish his sentence, "You're a coat rack... And you have eyes... and you moved on your own."

The coat rack - Castiel, if Dean remembered correctly, but he was beginning to doubt his own sanity - smiled softly at him, though Dean wasn't sure how a coat rack managed to have the ability to smile in the first place.

"Well, thank you for the observation Mr. States the Obvious," the accented voice piped in from behind him. He turned to see the cello rolling those green eyes, and let out an annoyed huff, as the comments from the instrument grated on his nerves.

"Dude, I've about had it with your 'he's an idiot' comments. Because honestly, I think my reaction so far has been damn well reasonable considering what I'm seeing right now. So, shut your pie hole for a minute while I talk to the nice coat rack."

Dean didn't wait for a response before facing Castiel again, - all the while questioning his sanity at calling the coat rack nice - seeing the perfume bottle standing close to the coat rack, still staring up at him with wide brown eyes.

"Who are you? Are you okay?"

"What happened? Are you hurt?”

The two voices, the coat rack's slightly less rough than it had been when arguing with Crowley and the bottle's - timid, but curious - clashed when the two spoke at the same time and Dean couldn't stop the wince at the aggravation to his pounding skull.

When no one spoke for a moment, Dean catching sheepish looks on the two in front of him, - and still not entirely sure how furniture was able to pull off anything like that - he looked down and pointed a finger towards the bottle, "The name's Dean. Dean Winchester. And I'm fine physically, for the most part. Mentally-- I'll get back to you."

He chose to ignore the derisive snort coming from the Cello's direction behind him and looked forward to the coat rack, moving to point at him instead. "My horse got spooked and threw me; pretty sure the ground broke my fall, though."

Dean ran the hand not pointing at Castiel through his hair as he said, "Just a bump. I'll live," and winked.

"Shame, really..." Crowley sighed, and Dean chose to ignore that comment as well.

Dean saw Castiel throw a slightly threatening glare over his shoulder, he assumed towards Crowley, and felt a smile tugging at his lips. The sight of Castiel leaning in, lifting what Dean supposed were meant to be arms but were really where one would normally hang their jacket, to his head had his smile disappearing from his face until he saw the concerned concentration in those blue eyes and felt a gentle pressure over the lump on his head.

"Are you absolutely certain you are not injured any more than this?" Castiel's voice was soft, like he was trying to keep from exacerbating Dean’s headache and Dean felt himself relax slightly.

"Like I said, just a bump. The rest of me is its own brand of awesome, as usual."

"You should sit down," the coat rack pushed gently on Dean's shoulders, backing him up until the backs of his knees met with a chair and he fell back onto the soft cushion with an oof. "Nancy," Dean followed Castiel's gaze to the purple, brown-eyed bottle as the coat rack continued to speak, "see if you can find Mr. Winchester - "

"It's Dean, dude. I am not my father," Dean interrupted.

"Alright then, see if you can find Dean something cold for his head."

"I'm fine, seriously."

"It would be best to keep the swelling down, to keep any future discomfort to a minimum."

"As touching as this all is," Dean had been wondering how Crowley had managed to keep himself silent for so long, "it's about time for Dean to be leaving, wouldn't you say, Castiel?"

Dean spared a glare at the Cello over his shoulder before looking back up at Castiel, slightly confused by the understanding he saw dawning within the blue depths.

Before Dean had the chance to ask anything about it, the doors to his right burst open with a reverberating crash that echoed in his still-aching head and caused his temples to feel like they would burst at any moment. When Dean no longer felt in danger of his head exploding, he focused his eyes on who - ‘what’ is more like it, he thought - had just come in.

When he was faced with nearly seven feet of fur and claws and teeth, he shrank back into his chair, swallowing convulsively as the creature came closer, its breath panting in and out in furious huffs. And when wild, angry eyes narrowed in his direction, Dean wished he could just make himself disappear entirely.

"What are you doing here?!" The beast's hot breath in Dean's face caused goose bumps to form the skin of his arms and legs, a shudder running through his body at the angrily growled question. "Come to look at the freak, have you?"

Castiel stepped forward from where he'd ended up behind Dean's chair and spoke up, "His horse got spooked and he was injured. He only came to us for assistance - "

"Assistance? I'll give him assistance. In fact, I'll assist him straight to the tower!"

Dean's eyes widened, jade eyes full of fear as the beast pulled him from the seat like he weighed nothing and started dragging him from the room. He struggled against the tight grip, but was unable to get himself loose. Castiel and Nancy watched with wide eyes as he was dragged out of the room and to the dark corridor that led to the tower.

***

Sam stretched his arms above his head, working out all the kinks through his body as he laid in the grassy field he and Impala often frequented together. He welcomed the sun's warming rays against his face and arms, how relaxed they made him feel as he spread out along the ground, his favorite book beside him, a bookmark holding the place he left off at. Dean had been gone since the day before and Sam was already starting to miss his brother. Most of his days were spent with Dean, when Sam wasn't in town, and it always felt strange to have the entire space to himself.

There weren't any clouds in the blue sky above him, but the brisk breeze blowing through the field was a clear sign of the coming winter. Turning his head to look toward the house, Sam took in the grass and dandelions and all the other plant life around. Sooner than he wanted to think about, everything would be covered in snow. He loved going out into the white powder, feeling it crunch beneath his boots, but he didn't get the chance to go into town as often as he liked. They didn't live particularly far from the rest of the village, but there was enough distance to keep him home more often than during the spring, summer, and autumn months. The thought had his lips turning down in a slight frown before he shook them away, content to look on at his home in peace before the chaos of winter claimed it.

The peace was shattered by the loud whinnies Impala made as she galloped towards their field. Sam was up like a shot, eyes searching for any injuries on the horse as well as looking for Dean. Impala slowed as she neared him and he ran his hands over the side of her face and neck gently, trying to sooth her from whatever had her shaking and huffing at him, though he was nearly freaking out himself when Dean didn't come out of the woods right after the horse.

"Hey, hey. Shhh, girl. S'ok, what's wrong, huh? Where's Dean?"

As his brother's name passed through his lips, Impala reared up briefly and whickered an answer before nodding her head back in the direction she'd come from. Sam followed her movements and looked where she pointed, then back to her and nodded slightly.

"Alright, take me to him girl," he murmured with soft urgency before he hauled himself up onto her back, only sparing a moment to settle his feet in the stirrups before nudging her sides with his heels, "Let's go find him."

***

The castle loomed over him, dark and foreboding and Sam swallowed thickly against his suddenly-dry throat. Impala's movements were jerky the entire trip through the dark forest and up to the foreboding wrought-iron gate and Sam thought he understood why as he peered up at the rough stone walls, two pointed towers being the highest points of the castle.

He combed his fingers through Impala's mane, scratching gently at her neck to calm her, bent forward to murmur soothing words and coos in her ears before he dismounted and grabbed hold of her reins. The gate was tall enough to make Sam feel small, and that wasn't a feeling he was very familiar with - Luc notwithstanding, anyway - and he found himself hoping, praying that he wouldn't find his brother here, that Impala had just followed this path without knowing where she was leading him. Chills ran down his spine when, as he approached the massive, wrought iron fence, it creaked loudly and swung inward, opening. Wary hazel eyes darted around the area he could see in the limited light that shone through the tree cover of the forest, but there was no one other than he and Impala in sight.

As Sam continued onto the grounds of the castle, darkness grew and shrouded the area; the sun's rays disappearing, blocked by the dense trees. Eerie silence, broken only by his own footfalls over crunching leaves and grass, followed Sam as he walked along the path inside the gated area. The looming stone structure looked more unwelcoming the closer he came to it.

He stopped in front of an enormous decorated wooden door; two large, gargoyle-shaped doorknockers protruded from the door, appearing more likely to take a bite out of him than cooperate; Sam found himself loathe to go near them. Behind him, Impala nudged her nose into his back, pushing him closer to the doors. With a quick look back to the dark horse, he stroked a soothing hand down her neck then turned back to push through the entrance, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

When he entered the castle, large wooden doors creaking shut behind him, Sam had to pause and let his eyes adjust to the light emanating from the torches that lined the walls. He couldn't see anyone in the first room he found; only a large chair in the middle and a cello standing beside an unlit fireplace.

"Hello?" he called out into the quiet, hearing nothing but his own echo bouncing off the stone walls back at him.

A scuffing noise from behind reached his ears and Sam turned lightning-quick only to be met with nothing once more. His eyes, finally adjusted to the light in the rooms, landed on a door he hadn't noticed when he walked in. It stood ajar, space opening to a barely lit staircase.

"Is anyone there?" he called out again, softer this time; more to himself and the room around him than to try and get anyone's attention.

Sam took another steadying breath and squared his shoulders, ready to face whatever he might find within the room. He walked across the space and barely spared a glance to the coat rack he would have sworn hadn't been by the doorway only moments before.

***

The stairs led him to a dark, dank room. Sam could only just make out a line of heavy-looking doors with bars blocking the gaps in them. The smell of dust filled his senses as he walked further inside. His stomach rolled, heavy with dread as he looked into each door, praying that he wouldn't find his brother locked behind one of them.

"Dean..?" he whispered hesitantly as he stepped up to the last barred door at the far end of the room.

Movement, shuffling coming from the other side of the door had him swallowing thickly, hoping it was nothing more than the rats that no doubt occupied the dungeons.

"Sammy?!"

A strangled sound escaped Sam's throat when Dean's startled voice reached his ears. How - why would someone have locked his brother in a cell in a castle? Dean wasn't a saint, sure, but he had certainly never done anything in his life to warrant being stuck where he was.

Sam rushed to the bars of the door and peered through to his brother.

"Dean, what... How..? What happened?"

"Sam, you need to get the hell out of here."

Dean moved in front of Sam, hands coming to hold the bars, close enough to touch. Sam reached out and gripped his brother's hands firmly, noting the lump where it looked like his brother had hit his head.

"Right, like I'd leave you in this place. Come on, we've got to get you out of here."

Sam released his brother’s hands, wrapping his fingers around the cold iron bars and tugging to test the strength of the barrier keeping his brother trapped. So focused was he, Sam’s only warning before being dragged away from the door and tossed to the ground was Dean’s shout.

The stone floor beneath Sam's hands felt cold and damp as he pushed himself to his knees. He didn't notice anything else as anger flooded through him, boiling in his veins. No way was someone going to keep him from getting his brother out of that room and away from the whole fucking castle. Sam couldn't see whoever it was that ripped him away from Dean, but that wasn't enough to keep him from speaking his mind.

"Hey! What makes you think you can just throw people in a dungeon, huh? What could he possibly have done to deserve it?"

"He trespassed here."

Air whooshed out of Sam's lungs as abruptly as if he'd been punched in the gut. The man's voice was coarse and raw, resembling a growl more than anything else. Sam's confidence dwindled at the sound. He still couldn't see whoever - or whatever, his mind provided unhelpfully - had locked his brother up, but he heard movement from the shadows on the other side of the room. Putting aside the fear he felt coiling through him over this unseen adversary, Sam spoke again.

"Please, just let him go. I'll do anything. He won't bother you ever again." Sam didn't care if his voice shook or that he had just begged this person he didn't even know to give him his brother back. He only cared about getting Dean out of that cell and away from this castle as fast as they could move.

"There's nothing you can do," the man - creature - snarled at him and Sam's mind raced with thoughts, ways to get him and his brother out of this, but he couldn't come up with anything. All Sam could think of was that lump on his brother's head and how Dean needed to see a doctor to make sure he wasn't seriously injured. He sucked in a sharp breath as his mind caught on one idea and he stood shakily, hand gripping the wall behind him as he heaved himself upright.

"Take me instead," Sam was beyond surprised when he heard how steady his voice was; but this was his brother, and he'd do anything to keep his family safe.

"No Sam, you can't do that. Just get out of here!"

Sam saw Dean's knuckles gripping the bars of the heavy cell door, knew that his brother wouldn't agree with this. But Dean had always taken care of him, all their lives, and this time it was Sam's turn to do the protecting. It was something he could, and would, do.

The man across the tower scoffed and Sam clenched his fingers tightly together before loosening them, trying to keep himself from fidgeting as he worried over what this creature might do to them.

"You..." the creature growled, sounding like he'd never heard something so ridiculous in his life - and maybe he hasn't, Sam thought distractedly - before continuing softer, almost disbelieving, a question in the man's voice, "You would take his place?"

"Come on, Sam. You don't know what you're doing!"

Sam ignored Dean's yells and refused to lower his eyes when he addressed the other man in the room once again, voice as hard as he could make it. "If I did, would you let my brother go?"

He heard the man shuffling across the way, coming closer by the sounds of it, and Sam had to force himself to stay where he was; to not back himself into the cold wall behind him or throw himself in front of the cell Dean occupied.

"Yes. But you must vow to stay here. Indefinitely.”

And Sam had figured when he made the offer that he would have to stay for a long time, but hearing it said out loud was something completely different; it made it real. But the younger Winchester would not have made the offer if he wasn't prepared for that possibility, and his brother's well-being was worth more than anything to Sam.

He was not, however, prepared to give his answer until he knew who or what he was making this deal with. Squinting in the darkness did nothing to help make out the figure and he gave up trying to see from where he stood. Sam took a step forward, towards the pool of light cast through a high window in the tower wall. "Come into the light."

The hair on the back of Sam's neck stood up and he knew the man who'd imprisoned his brother must have been staring straight at him now. His body practically vibrated with tension as he tried to keep from lowering his eyes, even if he didn't know whether he was looking at the one across the tower. The sound of shuffling caught his attention and he didn't want to drop his gaze, didn't want to give into the quiet fear he'd felt since first hearing this creature's voice. But then a giant clawed paw slid into the lighted part of the tower.

Sam didn't have time to process the sight before the rest of the Beast followed and Sam's eyes slowly slid up from the clawed paws to the massive legs, longer than his own. Broad shouldered and covered in honey brown locks that were probably just as unmanageable as his own mop of hair, he thought slightly hysterically. The creature’s face was twisted in an angry sort of disbelief, like Sam couldn't possibly be offering what he was. But the Beast didn't know his family, didn't know everything Dean had always done for him.

Sam took a step closer to the light, and the now-illuminated beast - and another and another until he stood within arm’s reach. He realized with an odd sort of detachment then just how odd it was to have to look up to meet someone's eyes. The young man had practically towered over everyone he'd known since he turned fifteen and it wasn't often that Sam met someone taller than him - even if it was only by an inch or two.

Determined hazel locked with hard, disbelieving amber. His jaw set, defiant, like it had every time he had it out with his father. Moments passed, and Dean could have been yelling in the background for Sam to get out of there, but Sam couldn't hear anything beyond the blood rushing in his ears and the four words that left his lips.

"You have my word."

Everything happened in a whirl of motion that Sam couldn't possibly have followed. Before he could take even a step back, the Beast had crossed the room and ripped his brother's cell door open. Dean was dragged out of the cell by the scruff of his neck and the Beast and his brother were down the stairs, Sam's shouts to wait ignored in the flurry of chaos. The tower's heavy wooden door was slammed shut upon the Beast's exit and Sam pounded his fists against the unforgiving barrier. He only just managed to stop before his fists bloodied and ran to the window on the other side of the room, facing the front grounds of the castle.

All Sam could do was watch as the Beast carelessly tossed his struggling brother into what looked something like a horseless-carriage; the dim light from torches lining the castle's walkway didn't allow for him to see it clearly.

Watching what should have been an inanimate object carry his brother - the last of his family - away, Sam felt a tear streak down his cheek to land salty and hot against his lips as his anxious breaths panted in and out. His chest felt like it was on fire as he turned his back to the window and it finally, truly hit him. He would never see his big brother again. He was going to spend the rest of his life in this castle; away from Anna and Jo, the bookshop and the tavern, everything and everyone he'd gotten close to ever since he and Dean had moved to town. His breath hitched at the thought of his brother and suddenly his legs refused to hold his weight. He barely felt it as he hit the cold ground, his back resting against the tower wall.

By the time the Beast was opening the wooden door, Sam had his knees pulled to his chest, head buried in his arms atop them. He hadn't let any more tears free after he sank to the floor, just curled up as small as he could and tried to block out the knowledge of what he'd just done, what he’d given up. Sam didn't bother lifting his head up at the sound of the door squeaking open, or the Beast's shuffled steps into the tower; missing the way those amber eyes were momentarily filled with what could have been described as sadness at the pitiful sight he made.

When the shuffling stopped, Sam finally lifted his head to glare up at his captor with watery eyes. His voice sounded hollower than it ever had before, rough from tears he refused to shed and he fought the urge to clear his throat. "You didn't let me say goodbye. He's all I have - had. I'll never see him again, and you didn't let me say goodbye."

When nothing was said in return Sam shook his head sadly and laid his cheek against his arms, closing his eyes against the room around him. The Beast inhaled several times as though about to speak before any words reached Sam's ears.

"I'll show you to your room."

The words were spoken almost softly and had Sam lifting his head before what the Beast said sunk in. His brow crinkled and he wasn't able to mask the confusion in his voice as he started, "But I... But I thought..." His eyes darted around the tower for a moment before coming back to the one in front of him.

Sam wasn't sure what he'd said or done to earn the Beast's anger, but the soft voice he'd heard just moments before had been replaced by a snarl as the Beast snapped back, "Do you want to stay in the tower?!"

Sam scrambled to his feet, eyes wide in the face of the Beast's anger, but he shook his head slowly; still confused about the possibility of having a room instead of a cell. If the youngest Winchester was honest with himself, he would have admitted to having been afraid that it was a trick, to try and get his guard down only to hurt him some new way. That fear, however, did not stop Sam from following when the Beast turned with a gruff 'Follow me' and stormed out of the tower and down the stairwell.

***

The Beast held a torch, lighting up the various pieces of artwork along the corridor Sam assumed would lead to his new room. He was still confused by being offered a room after the man took away everything else; but he wasn't going to risk losing it by opening his mouth. The floor wasn't anything special when Sam focused his gaze there, but he kept his eyes lowered just enough to see where the Beast led him without having to look at him. He jumped a little, startled, when the Beast spoke to him. Sam found he had to bite his tongue to keep from commenting on how the man referred to him.

"Well kiddo, this castle is your home now," the Beast started, voice soft like when he'd first offered the room, and Sam rolled his eyes at the word 'home'. Home was where Dean was, and Dean wasn't there. "You've got free reign, well for the most part. You can walk the castle grounds, and my servants will attend to you if you need anything. You may go anywhere in the castle, except the West wing…"

The pause after suggested to Sam he was expected to interrupt him, or ask the creature why. But the youngest Winchester didn't care what reasons the beast of a man in front of him had for wanting him to stay out of a specific part of the castle - if he got curious he'd just pay it a visit later.

The Beast came to a sudden halt in front of yet another set of tall doors - Sam had never been someplace that practically dwarfed him in comparison. It would take some time to get used to it.

I'll have nothing but time here, Sam thought bitterly as the Beast stepped to the side, gesturing for Sam to enter. He stifled a sigh that wanted so desperately to force its way from his lungs and walked past the creature into his prison; the fact that it was the most beautifully decorated room he'd ever stayed in his life, with a burgundy and gold accented canopied bed large enough to fit even his long frame, and the ornate, cherry wood dresser and wardrobe - didn't disguise just what this room would be for Sam. It was still a cell, however well-furnished.

Once in his room Sam turned around to look at the Beast. If he didn't know any better, Sam might have thought that the creature was waiting for his reaction. But Sam did know better, and refrained from speaking while he waited for whatever came next, arms hanging at his sides as he slouched his shoulders, all the stress of the day catching up to him.

From the way the Beast tensed the longer he stood silently in the room, choosing not to speak was the wrong choice. He didn't hold back his sigh then.

"So, do you have a name or should I keep referring to you as “Gigantor” in my head?" Sam asked, jutting his chin out and biting his lip to keep from smirking at the agitation showing in the Beast.

"Gabriel," was growled in response - if Sam cared more, he thought he would have been scared, but at that point he didn't have anything left to lose, "They call me Gabriel."

Sam nodded. Gabriel stood in front of him, just outside the door and Sam thought it looked like he was shifting his weight back and forth awkwardly, but he couldn't think of a reason for it that made sense, so dismissed it.

When the Beast said nothing more, Sam turned and walked further into the room; the coat rack beside the wardrobe seemed oddly familiar and he was almost certain that cello had been out by the fireplace when he'd first entered the castle.

Sam heard shuffling behind him, coming from where he'd left the Bea- Gabriel standing as he stepped up to the dresser where it sat beside another door, which he assumed would lead to an en-suite bathroom. Gabriel - yet another thing that would take getting used to.

There was an assortment of knick-knacks covering the surface of the dresser, included among them an elegant perfume bottle that stood out from the other various items.

As he wondered over why this creature would own such odd collections Sam heard more shuffling behind him followed by hushed whispers. He didn't want to know who the Bea- Gabriel was talking to though, and busied himself by running his fingers lightly over the polished cherry wood of the dresser.

Suddenly Gabriel spoke, voice seemingly booming in the quiet of the room, causing Sam to start and turn around to face him. "I'll see you at dinner, Sammy."

"It's Sam," came his immediate response before he realized he hadn't told Gabriel his name.

"Whatever you say, kiddo," Gabriel said, wearing what Sam could only call a smirk on his face.

The door slammed shut as Gabriel turned away from Sam and the room. It wasn't until Sam could no longer hear the other's footsteps that he realized the Beast must have remembered what his brother had been calling him in the tower.

The reminder of his brother and the way Dean had yelled for him even as he'd been dragged from the castle had Sam pushing away from the dresser, with enough force to shake its contents, and running into what he had correctly assumed to be the bathroom; making it to the toilet just as the retching started.

A glass of water was pushed into his hand when he sat back and Sam took it after flushing down the evidence of the toll of the day's stress, rinsing his mouth out and swallowing some down to rid him of the awful taste in his mouth, before it hit him that someone else was in the bathroom with him. He hadn't heard the main door open, but he had been busy losing the meager contents of that afternoon's lunch just moments before.

Running a shaky hand through sweaty hair, Sam turned to whoever had given him the water and was met with a blue-eyed coat rack - the very same one he'd seen out by the stairs and beside his wardrobe - who smiled gently down at him.

After staring another beat, Sam cleared his throat. "Um.. thanks...uh?"

Thankfully, the coat rack seemed to take pity on him and answered his unasked question.

"I am Castiel," his voice was rough, but gentle and Sam felt himself relax slightly - Castiel may have been a talking coat rack, but so far he seemed like a friendly, non-threatening one.

Sam downed the rest of the water and stood up, nodding his thanks as Castiel moved away from the sink where Sam set the glass down and washed his hands. Castiel stood beside him, watching Sam the whole time and when Sam finished he turned and found himself looking down into azure eyes with a faint, embarrassed smile of his own. "I'm Sam."

Castiel nodded and Sam figured the enchanted object had already known his name but was polite enough to let Sam introduce himself. When Castiel left the bathroom to stand beside the freshly made bed, Sam followed without really thinking about it.

As he sat on the bed, mattress barely dipping under his weight, and leaned back against the headboard, Sam wished he would have seen something - someone? - like Castiel on a day that hadn't been the worst in his life. Had he seen a walking, talking - smiling - coat rack with blue eyes any other time he would have been positively giddy. As it was, Sam didn't have much energy to devote to caring.

Castiel stood beside the bed, with the same smile he'd worn in the bathroom. Sam didn't feel up to smiling back; he looked around the room again and wasn't as surprised as he probably should have been when the perfume bottle shuffled across the dresser, a purple blur as it stopped at the edge and soft brown eyes blinked over at him. He was even less surprised when he noticed the cello on the other side of his bed, opposite Castiel.

"How are you feeling?" The question came from Castiel and Sam turned to look at him with a snort, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I'm awesome," Sam answered, sarcasm thick in his voice.

Castiel either didn't notice his attitude or ignored it, "I am glad."

"Yes, because you sounded awesome a minute ago," an accented voice came from Sam's left, where the cello sat, murky green eyes staring at him.

"He seems better now, Crowley."

"Maybe he isn't sick anymore, but he doesn't look all that great to me." The cello - Crowley - seemed to be examining him, measuring Sam up, but Sam didn't know what he was looking for. He was pretty sure from the mocking tone in Crowley's voice the cello was trying to rile him up. Or Castiel. It wouldn't work; Sam knew he must look awful after the crying and the retching. Castiel took the bait a bit easier, getting more and more agitated if the coat rack's shifting was anything to go by.

A soft female voice reached his ears and Sam hadn't even noticed the perfume coming closer to him. "Don't mind them, they're always like that."

The bickering continued unnoticed in the background as Sam gave the bottle his attention. "I'm Nancy. How are you really feeling? Would you like a cup of tea to help settle your stomach?"

Sam's throat felt tight, thinking of how Dean always took care of him whenever he was sick, but shook his head 'no'. He wouldn't be getting sick again.

"Honestly," his voice was as soft as hers, hoping to keep attention from drawing onto him, "I just want to sleep for awhile." He figured if he was stuck in this room, he may as well take advantage of the comfortable mattress.

"Why don't you take a nap? One of us will wake you in time to get ready for dinner."

Sam shook his head again, voice coming out louder than he planned. "Don't bother."

"It's no trouble, I promise. And you'll want time to change. I bet we can find something for you in your wardrobe."

He almost felt bad for ignoring her as he lay out on the bed, rolling onto his side and gripping a large gold throw pillow tight under his head. The room grew as silent as it had been while the Beast waited for a reaction earlier. Closing his eyes, Sam felt some, not much, but some of the tension he'd been holding onto release. Quiet shuffling and someone covering his body with a blanket were the last things he knew before sleep finally dragged him under.

Part 2A