A/N: This fic is a SPN fusion with Howl's Moving Castle, movie version. If you haven't seen it, that's okay, because I'm mostly just borrowing some concepts and initial setup, and then the rest of the plot goes in a completely different direction. (But I also recommend the movie. And the book, though it's nothing like the movie either, haha.)
Disclaimer: Neither of these worlds or characters are mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading! Cover art is one of my creations, though. You can see the full thing on my tumblr.
Chapter 1
The blare of the end-of-shift horn ended the monotonous drone of sewing machines. There was a brief lull as everyone had to mentally shift out of the numbness of their tedious, repetitive work, and then the factory was filled with a cacophony of voices as people stood and began milling toward the exit. Snatches of conversations drifted across the floor of plans to go out for dinner or check out the fair. There was even to be a parade in celebration of the prince's birthday.
Charlie hung back at her station, waiting for the throng to leave before she finally gathered up her small lunch sack and turned the light over her sewing machine off. She hurried for the door and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. The streets bustled with foot traffic, from those in work drab to those dressed in fancy finery. Hats were the latest trend, and Charlie liked scanning heads in search of one she had made personally in the factory. There were templates to follow, but Charlie always added a little something extra to make each hat a one-of-a-kind. It made her feel like she was leaving a mark on the world, even if it was something most wouldn't notice.
But she was used to practically being invisible.
She made her way down the street, squeezing between bodies pressed too closely together as they got ready to watch the parade. Charlie slipped down a side alley where she had some breathing room, and came out on another street with a corner bakery. She stopped at the shop window to look at the tantalizing treats displayed inside. Everything was mouthwatering, from the lemon curd eclairs to the chocolate and raspberry petit fours. Every day after work Charlie would stop here and dream of buying just one treat. But as her hand folded over her dress and the few coins jangled in her pocket, she'd have to tear herself away with a sigh.
One day, she thought. One day she'd open her own hat shop and make dazzling, one-of-a-kind pieces that would be all the rage in town, maybe the whole country.
She continued on her way, heading toward the more run-down side of town near the train tracks where her modest flat was located. The crowd thinned out, and Charlie was able to slow to a more leisurely pace. She wasn't really in a hurry to arrive home where she'd spend the rest of the night cooking a meager dinner of rice and then going to bed so she could be up early the next morning to head back to work.
She rounded a corner and pulled up short at the sight of two men taking up the width of the alley. They immediately grinned upon seeing her.
"Hey, there," one said.
"Hi." Charlie tried to draw her shoulders back and walk right past, but the men stepped into her path.
"Where you headed?" the first asked.
"Please just let me pass," Charlie replied.
"Aw, come on," he cajoled.
The other man smirked. "You're scaring her."
He pressed a hand to his heart as though wounded. "You're not scared of me, are you, little mouse?"
When he leaned down to be closer to Charlie's eye level, she couldn't help but let out a nervous squeak and take a step back.
"Look, I just want to get through here," she said, mustering a smidgeon of bravado.
"Might not be safe for a little mouse like you to be walking alone," the man continued as though she hadn't spoken.
Charlie sucked in a deep breath, preparing to tell him off, when a displacement of air alerted her to someone coming up behind her.
"The lady said let her pass," a deep voice rumbled.
Charlie stiffened.
The men, however, instantly went from inconveniently annoying to visibly hostile.
"Mind your own business, buddy."
"Are these douchebuggies bothering you, sweetheart?" the newcomer asked, leaning down to Charlie's ear.
She could barely form a response. "Um…" She just wanted to go home.
One of the men took a menacing step forward, and the third guy flicked his wrist out at them. Suddenly they snapped to attention like soldiers. Sputtering, they pivoted sharply and started to march away, blustering invectives as they went.
Charlie chanced a look up at her rescuer. He had somewhat ruggedly handsome features, brown hair, and hazel green eyes that shimmered with flecks of amber. He wore dark garb that was simple in design but was made of the finest cloth.
Charlie's mouth continued to flounder wordlessly.
The man held an arm out. "Can I walk you home?"
Charlie found herself taking the proffered arm, though inside she was screaming that she shouldn't. What had just happened with those two guys? Had this stranger used magic?
He gave her a small smile and started walking. But then his other arm snaked around her waist to take her other hand, and Charlie gasped in surprise. Before she could protest, however, he pushed off the ground, and suddenly they were flying into the air. All the oxygen stole from Charlie's lungs, and it was probably good that she didn't scream.
They shot up above the buildings.
"Watch your step."
Charlie gaped at the ground below and flailed her legs, but it felt as though she was walking normally. Well, except the air beneath her feet was soft and it was more like hopping from air pocket to air pocket. And, despite the terror singing through her veins, a small part of Charlie found it incredibly breathtaking.
They traveled over the buildings, and at this point Charlie didn't even question when he brought her down on the roof of her flat.
"Um, thanks," she said.
He dipped his head in a nod. "You're welcome. Take care."
And with that, he was gone.
Still breathless, Charlie remained standing on the roof for several minutes in shock. Had that really just happened? Or had she dreamed it? But no, she felt like she was awake. Who was that? Could it have been… The wizard Dean Winchester was infamous in these parts, said to eat the hearts of pretty girls. He certainly hadn't tried to eat Charlie's heart. Maybe he knew a lonely girl like her with no family and no friends wasn't worth it.
Finally letting out a sigh, Charlie turned and made her way inside. But when she turned on the light of her flat, she stopped short. On her tiny kitchen table was a chocolate and orange eclair nestled inside a box from that one bakery. She whipped her head around in search of who had left it, but there was no sign of anyone.
Charlie wondered if she should be wary of eating it, but she could smell the pastry through the lid and her stomach rumbled in response.
"If he wanted to eat my heart, he probably wouldn't need to resort to poison first," she reasoned aloud.
Setting her lunch sack on the tiny counter, she retrieved a fork and went to sit at the table. The eclair didn't explode when she stuck the fork in it, and nothing weird fizzled on the air as she took that first bite.
It was heavenly.
Charlie hadn't eaten anything this delectable in her entire life, and she savored every bite.
When she went to bed, she fell into a restful sleep and dreamed of flying and mounds of desserts.
It was a shame when her alarm woke her the next morning. Even though last night had been real, it had just been a chance encounter that would never repeat itself. Today, Charlie would have to resume her mundane routine. But the memory still brought a small smile to her face.
She ate a quick breakfast of cold bread with jam, packed some cheese and crackers for lunch, and then hurried out the door. It was barely dawn, but there was enough light to see by on her walk to work. She'd only taken two steps, however, when a figure standing in the middle of the street made her pause.
The woman was tall and dressed in a long black dress with sleeves that barely hugged her mostly bare shoulders. Long brown hair cascaded down her front, and she was gazing at Charlie with a cool expression.
Charlie fidgeted uncomfortably. "Um, can I help you?"
"What a dump," the woman replied, curling her lip as she regarded the flat behind Charlie. Her gaze drifted back down. "But I suppose that is where garbage lives."
Charlie stiffened, her cheeks flushing hot as countless insults from her childhood came clamoring back in her head.
"You got no parents? So no one wants you."
"You're trash."
"Little orphan Charlie, left out on the street. Not even the garbage man wants to pick you up."
Charlie drew her shoulders back. "There's a difference between living in squalor on the outside and living with a putrid heart on the inside."
The woman let out a soft chortle. "Standing up to the Witch of the Waste, that's plucky."
Charlie's blood ran cold. "The Witch of the Waste?" she gasped, and turned her head as though to run.
But the witch held out a hand, and columns of black smoke shot out and zoomed toward her. They surrounded Charlie in an instant—thick, cloying fumes that felt as though they somehow plunged straight through her body. Her lungs seized, and she dropped to the ground. Just when she thought she would suffocate, the smoke retreated.
"The best part of that spell is you can't tell anyone about it," the witch's voice echoed softly. "Give my regards to Dean."
Charlie continued to pant, curled forward on her knees on the cold ground. Everything ached and she couldn't seem to stop shaking. She tried to brace her palms on the cobblestone, and froze, the oxygen punching from her lungs.
"Wh-what?" she stammered, lifting her hands to examine them. No. No, these couldn't be her hands… But her shaky fingers flexed and straightened at her direction, gnarled bones creaking with the movement. Her skin was heavily wrinkled with age spots discoloring it.
Charlie reached up to feel her face, and her heart started jackhammering even harder. She managed to stagger upright and stumbled to her door, catching her balance against it. And then she went rigid as she caught sight of her reflection in the metal panel of the next door building.
Except, it couldn't be her reflection. Her face was worn and weathered, with crows feet around her eyes, and her once vibrant red hair was now dull gray. She was short to begin with, but now with her back hunched over, she'd lost a couple of inches.
"Okay," she breathed. "Stay calm. Stay calm."
How was she supposed to stay calm? her insides screamed at her. She'd just been cursed by the Witch of the Waste. Into…into…this!
A door slamming down the street had Charlie whirling around in terror. But it was just the silhouette of a man shuffling out, probably on his way to work.
Charlie realized she couldn't go to work. She couldn't let anyone see her like this. They'd freak out. But if she didn't work, she couldn't pay rent, and she'd be out on the streets to die of starvation or the cold when winter set in. What was she supposed to do? She had no one.
Her heart clenched as she realized all her dreams of a better future were now gone, snatched away by a madwoman for no reason that Charlie could understand, except that perhaps Fate was just cruel and liked tormenting her.
Charlie didn't know what she would do; all she knew was that she couldn't stay here, couldn't stay in the town. Heart pattering like a frightened rabbit's, she struggled to make it back inside her flat, grabbed her shawl and packed the rest of her scant food supplies, then turned back toward the door. She paused when she caught sight of the empty pastry box. Her heart gave a pang. At least she'd gotten to enjoy one good thing.
She exited the flat. Even though it was a dump, she mourned the loss of what had more or less been her home the past couple of years.
The sun was cresting the horizon now, and soon the town would be bustling with life again. Charlie tried to make her way down the streets quickly, but the fact of the matter was her body was just too decrepit to maintain that kind of pace. Her joints locked and she got winded so easily. It was full mid-morning by the time she crossed the bridge over the train tracks, the smoke from the departing engine billowing up and nearly choking her.
"Need some help there, ma'am?" a young man asked.
"No, thank you," she replied, cringing at the cracked warble in her voice. She hobbled her way down the stairs and onto the street again.
On the edge of town, the mountains in the distance loomed ominously, shrouded in mist. She found a horse-drawn cart of hay and asked the driver if she could get a lift, saying she was headed just a little farther than he was. He let her hop in the back.
The ride was bumpy and aggravated her aching bones, but it did save her a lot of time and walking when two hours later she was dropped off at the edge of the farmlands. Then she continued on foot from there.
It was much quieter out here, away from the town. Yet, somehow, Charlie didn't feel much more lonely than she had when surrounded by people.
She passed a farmer sowing a plot of land.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" he called.
Funny how age awarded you the respectful tag. And more notice, apparently.
"I'm just passing through," she replied.
He frowned at her, then looked toward the mountains. "Out there? Ma'am, there's only witches and wizards out in the Wastes. You don't want to go there."
Probably not, but maybe a small part of Charlie wondered if she could find that nice wizard again and if he could help her.
Foolish, she chastised herself. Wizards and witches were cruel and capricious ego-maniacs. She'd be better off never laying eyes on one again.
Yet still…
"Seriously, grandma," the farmer continued, sounding annoyed now. "It's foolish to go out there," he said, echoing her inner thoughts.
"I'm looking for my younger sister," she replied, and went on her way.
About midday she stopped to eat some crackers. Her meager rations weren't going to last her long out here. Neither was her thin clothing, even with the shawl; the wind was picking up and clouds were rolling in from the north. She'd be heading straight into the storm. But she couldn't turn back after how long it had taken her to come just this far. The town was even still in sight, though much smaller from her vantage point at the foothills. The thought of the barn she'd passed a couple of hours ago made her heart give a pang and her bones quiver. She bet it was nice and warm in there with the hay and thatched roof.
As the sun sank toward the horizon, roiling dark clouds billowed out above Charlie's head. The wind howled and a few spattering rain drops began to fall. Charlie pulled her shawl tightly about herself and hunched forward even more. This was insane. She was going to freeze to death out here if she didn't find shelter soon. But she was still in the foothills where there was nothing but rising slopes, nubby rocks, and plains grass.
Something groaned in the wind, and Charlie paused to tip her head back in search of lightning. But no, the noise sounded too low for that, too steady. Like the grinding of gears.
The ground gave a small vibration, and suddenly out of the misty rain, a ginormous moving contraption came lumbering straight toward Charlie. Her eyes blew wide, and she tried to dart out of the way, but something snagged her shawl and she was yanked backward. A gasp tore from her throat as she was nearly choked, but with another bump, she landed on her butt on a small platform with a railing. That's what had caught her shawl.
Gripping the iron balustrades for balance, she lifted herself up and worked the threads free of the exposed rod. But she still held on for dear life, because the contraption was still hobbling along. Wait a second…was this Dean Winchester's moving castle? Charlie had only ever heard rumors of it, of course, but now she was apparently standing on a tiny back porch with a door, and even a lantern hanging from a hook.
Terror seized her for a split moment. Sure, maybe the wizard had been nice to her for a brief moment, but that didn't mean he'd like her barging in on his home. On the other hand, Dean only ate the hearts of lovely girls, and Charlie was currently an ugly old hag.
The chill wind nipped at the hems of her sleeves and dress collar, piercing her down to the bone. Rain hammered down now, water leaking between gaps in the castle and dripping on Charlie's head. She couldn't go back out into the storm, and she couldn't stay on the landing all night, either. Guess she really only had one choice.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie gripped the doorknob and pushed it inward. She stumbled inside, hurrying to close the door behind her and shut out the raging wind and rain. As soon as she did, she was immediately greeted with a still silence, save for the soft crackling of a fire. Warmth folded around her, and Charlie hobbled up five steps into a large kitchen area. A sink and counters lined the right side, and to the left was a raised hearth, about three and a half feet off the floor. A soothing fire snapped and popped in the center.
"Oh," Charlie breathed. There was a chair next to the fireplace, and she removed her shawl as she eased her creaky body into it. She shivered as heat buffeted her chilled skin, and she found herself instantly drifting toward sleep…
"That's quite a curse you have there," a deep gravely voice spoke.
Charlie jerked upright, head whipping around and almost cricking her neck. But no one was in the room.
"Over here."
Charlie's eyes shifted to the fire, and gooseflesh ran up and down her spine as she saw two glowing eyes looking at her from within the flames. "Y-you're…"
"My name is Castiel."
"You're a- a…"
"Fire demon," he supplied.
Charlie let out a squeak.
The fire flickered and burbled. "You did walk into a magical castle. What were you expecting?"
Charlie pressed her lips together tightly to keep from making another sound. Her skin crawled as the fire continued to stare at her.
"Let me guess, the curse also keeps you from talking about it."
She nodded mutely.
He made a thoughtful rumble that crackled. "Would you mind grabbing that piece of wood over there?"
Charlie started at the abrupt tangent, but automatically looked around for what he meant. She spotted some chopped wood on the floor and picked up a piece, careful not to get too close as she tossed it on the fire. Glowing bands of orange flame reached out like arms to wrap around the wood.
"Thank you."
Charlie wasn't sure what to say, but exhaustion was creeping in fast, and she started to sink back into the chair. She was in Dean Winchester's castle, and there was a fire demon less than three feet away from her. But she was so tired, and everything ached…
Charlie didn't even realize when she'd closed her eyes and sunk into a deep sleep.