I so not own Supernatural.
"Burn the witch!"
"Burn him!" The villagers screams rise from the flames. I can feel the white hot blaze lick at my back.
"I'm not-" But my voice is lost. I scream, nails digging into the wooden post I'm stretched across. The lashings down my back ache. Crack. Crack. Crack.
"Burn him!" They scream in unison, preparing the kindling beneath me. A man looks me in the eye as he drops the torch in the grass beneath my knee. I burn.
I wake up so suddenly I hit the wooden beam above my bed.
"Quiet down!" The man bellows from the bunk above me.
"My apologies." I whisper as the room fills with displeased grumbles. The men slowly settle back into sleep as I burrow further in the bed. It's warm, but the blanket it scratchy and worn. I roll onto my side, the contents in my pack rattle under my head. Every traveler who sleeps at a tavern knows to use your pack as a pillow, to ward thefts. I dazedly slip my hand into my pack, rifling around until I find my water sack. I sip from it before replacing it back in the bag. I have to remember to fill it before leaving in the morning.
I drift into sleep for what feels like moments, but when I wake the burly man who insisted on getting the bunk above me hops off the bed creating a mini earthquake. I wake up startled and he grins.
"Morning M'lady." He leers. I look away, slipping the hood further down my face. I am often mistaken for a female. My youth paired with my pale skin, and feminine mouth make me appear like a maiden. Thankfully my voice helps to warn most competent men.
Sitting up I straighten my cloak. It's early enough were the sun has yet to cast it's light. I gather my things, stuffing them into my pack as I head out of the tavern. Quickly paying for my night. I amble into the woods, letting the branches close off the path behind me.
I travel the entire day, the fog wafts in to cover any who might be tailing me. The steady crunch of leaves beneath my boots is comforting. The animals skitter away frightened when I crush a branch.
"Boy." My shoulders twitch at the voice as I whip around. There is nothing there but the dense mist and the shadows of tall trees.
"Who's there?" I call, but with no reply. I slid my hand into the short sword at my hip, fingering the hilt. I have another tucked in my sleeve, but that is only for emergencies.
"Who's there?" I demand more firmly. My eyes track a movement to my left and I strike.
"Getting quick, you must be training." Daily. My eyes narrow. Zachariah is a paunchy warlock, gray hair thinning. He likes to fancy himself a Lord, with his ridiculous gaudy jewels and silken cloaks. He is dressed down for his travels in the woods thankfully, his coat is a dark silk with only minimal jewel.
"Leave me in peace, or I will kill you." I threaten and Zachariah lets out a sharp bitter laugh. I skip back on my feet, he may be more talented than me, but I'm faster.
"Kill me? After what you let that bitch do to you. You couldn't hurt a fly in this condition." Zachariah chuckles.
"Don't talk about Meg like that." I hiss, delving forward. A long narrow sword batters mine away effortlessly.
"You're a fool, Castiel. You're going to get yourself killed." Zachariah is close, glaring deeply at me. So far the spell had done it's job, sealing my powers away so they couldn't consume me. I need proper training, but first I had to cross the kingdom without getting caught and send back to Micheal. Zachariah was one of the best trackers in the kingdom.
"Leave me!" I hiss. Zachariah snarls as I slice at his forearm, his strange watery eye color sparks with hatred.
"Once my King tires of you, I'll be the one to strip the flesh from your bone you worthless beggar!" Zachariah is strong and I barely manage to roll from beneath his blow. The last wisps of my powers bleed from my fingertips and I collect them in my palm like water, they seep through my fingers. I scramble to gather enough to cast back at him.
"NO! Castiel!" Zachariah roars as I savagely slide my palm into my blade sketching out the sigil for the spell and slamming my palm onto it. Zachariah disappears in a flash of bright light. I collapse on the ground, knowing it may have only given me a day or two heads start. Without my powers at full capacity I would be unable to use them for at least two weeks. It was time to employ some help.
I had been dreading this. Meg had told me I would eventually need to hire I mercenary.
'Your sweet little ass can't wander the woods alone.' She had grinned, dark hair falling over her shoulders in loose curls.
I had been desperate to prove her wrong. I could take care of myself. But I was so very weak as I dragged myself to the tavern in town. The village I had managed to drag myself too was called Lazarus, it was small and rowdy and the breeding ground for Mercenary's and Hunters. I would have to find someone to employ.
Opening the door to the tavern a young woman with blonde hair who looked around my age glanced at me.
"Are you alright?" She demanded, moving to my side. I flinched as she moved to touch me, I didn't like being touched by strangers.
"I'm fine. May I sit?" I asked slowly, keeping the hood low on my brow. I could not chance being recognized. The girl seemed surprised at my low voice, obviously assuming I was a female from the lower half of my jaw. I sighed as she led me to a table in the back.
"Can I get you anything?" She asked softly, like I was a wild animal that might startle.
"Water." I asked. I'd emptied my animal skin only a few minutes after my meeting with Zachariah. I was thirsty and dozing, light headed still from being drained so thoroughly. A hand touches my shoulder and I jerk away on reflex. The young woman frowns as she hands me my glass.
"Here, wave me over if you need anything else." She says tightly. I nod my thanks, gulping down the liquid quickly. It dribbles down my chin, I swipe at it with the cuff of my oversized cloak. I rest for a few minutes before gathering the last of my energy. It's foolish, but it needs to be done. I cup my palms, watching the blue aura the color of lightening swell like a giant rain droplet. Closing my eyes I let it burst across the room, skidding across all of the men and woman for hire.
My senses burn as I find a man in the corner who is one of Zachariah's. He is searching for me, but has yet to spot me. I'm dangerously faint, I can feel my eyes sinking in and my breath becoming short. I cast a tiny spell to discourage him from looking in the corner of the room I'm hiding in. I move onto the next person and the next.
Each person's aura is hazy. Some filled with greed, lust, one man is obviously a serial killer. He is eyeing the young blonde barmaid who is helping me. I will have to take care of him before I move on to the next town.
I stand, about to give up. There is no one here I can trust. The only person who is even remotely amiably is the blonde girl who is just a child, and a weak one at that. She is hustling over to help my swaying form when the door opens. My vision flashes brightly, it's like the sun has walked in. Everyone else's dull, bleary aura is burned away by the man who saunters in laughing heartily.
"You look ill." The girl wraps a arm around my waist when I tilt over.
"Him." I murmur. The man's green eyes spark with life, with fire as he turns to say something to the taller man at his side. The sit at the bar, and the man with a fireheart looks around for the blonde girl at my side.
"What?" The girl asks.
"It's him." I breath. I'd never seen someone so pure, so strong. His soul rivaled my own when I wasn't being bound. But he wasn't special, he was just a man.
"Who? Dean?" The girl turns, stumbling with me when I crash into the the table. The water falls and wets my sleeve.
"Dean." Is the last word I remember saying.
When I awake, I feel the steady pulse of concern press into my mind. The girl sits beside me, swabbing a damp cloth over my brow.
"You're awake." She breaths. I sit up and she smiles at me.
"I'm sorry-" My throat cracks and breaks. I wince and she hands me a cup of water. I sip eagerly.
"You fainted. I was worried." She smiles, golden hair twisted against her long pale throat. She's surely the town beauty. I have to remember to take care of the murder who was stalking her in the tavern.
"I apologize. I haven't eaten in a few days." Which was true. I was not a hunter, and had only managed to find some berries in the woods a few nights ago. A hearty bowel of lukewarm soup was set in my lap. Think chunks of potato and meat swirled around. I nearly groaned at the pungent smell. After my meal the blonde took my bowel away, she returned with another thick bowel and I finished that too.
"I'm Jo, by the way." She says, amused smile twisting her pretty lips up. I look up from my meal and offer a small nod.
"James." I lie. My true name is rare, I can not give it to strangers no matter how kind.
"Dean says he doesn't know you, he carried you up here." Jo continued. I felt my neck prickle at the mention of the man with a fireheart. The memory of the light bursting from his chest, swirling, twisting and dancing across the room was one I'd remember forever.
"Where is he?" I demand. Jo looks shocked for a moment before frowning.
"He's a hunter, probably trapping." Jo shrugs.
"When will he return?" I ask as calmly as I can.
"Tonight." Jo eyes me suspiciously. I open my mouth to rattle off a lie when the door bursts open.
"How is he?" A enormous man smiles. His soul is also beautiful, warm and inviting. But it's not nearly as all encompassing as Dean's. Dean was almost dangerous in his ferocity.
"I am fine." I answer, I will not be treated as a child. No matter how ill. The large man lets out a low chuckle. He smooths back his long hair into the messy ponytail at his neck.
"My name is Samuel Winchester." He introduces. I look at his hand, unsure of what he wants. I slowly hand him my empty cup and his eyes widen before he is thrown into another fit of laughter.
"You're not from around here, are you?" The man grins, a wide dimpled smile that makes me uncharacteristically relaxed.
"I've traveled far." Is my answer, which makes his brow raise above his slanted eyebrow.
"An Enoch." He says softly, his light hazel eyes darken. His gaze flickers protectively to Jo and instantly she is moving to his side.
"How could you tell?" I ask slowly. Samuel's heart darkens at the threat of me. He's an intelligent man. Most people haven't even heard of my race, let alone be able to identify it within seconds of meeting.
"Sam's a scholar." Jo says from behind his shoulder.
"Your accent; and your eyes." He adds. I subconsciously tug at my hood only to find my cloaks been removed. The nearly glowing blue of my people is an indicator to my heritage.
"I don't have an accent." I scowl. I worked very hard to hid my native tongue from the brutish language most of the kingdom utilize. Sam smiles at that.
"You speak a little too stiffly to be from around here." He informs. I accept the criticism storing it for later use.
"Will you kill me?" I question, leaning back against the headboard. I'm too weak to fight him, my life rests in his hands. Sam's eyes widen.
"You're a dying race, of course not. But why have you traveled so far south?" He asks.
"I need to hire a mercenary to assist me to the Lower Realms." Which is true. I am not a good liar, so spinning in the truth with my lies always helps to deliver them more accurately.
"What will a child do in the Lower Realms." Sam snorts. I purse my lips at the word. I am not a child, probably older than Sam himself. Although I am still on the cusp of manhood.
"I seek the prophet." I answer truthfully. Sam's eyes widen.
"You're insane." He declares.
"Perhaps." I shrug. Sam's mouth hangs open, but before I can get another word out my world swells into blackness.
When I awake it is dusk. I am chained to the bed. I sigh, picking the lock easily as I search the room for my pack. I find it tucked in a drawer, along with my washed cloak. Quickly I pull it on, waddling down the stairs under the weight of my pack. I'm still so weak it makes me sick.
"Damn thing was the size of a horse." A low timber voice complains. I look up and across the bar. My aura sense has quelled enough were I can only feel the barest touch of emotion from a person. I can feel Sam's weariness, and I can feel Jo's exasperation at her mother. But Dean, Dean I feel as if he is my own soul. Dean is hungry, and he enjoys the small aches in his muscles from the large animal he had trapped earlier. Faint stirrings of pride remain from when Sam had complimented him. Dean is an open book.
"It couldn't have been that big." Sam teases. I faintly see the resemblance and realize they are brothers. Dean's outraged.
"I got em' strapped onto Impala out back, I'll show you!" Dean accent is heavy, and rough. He sounds like the stereotype of the Middle Lands that my brothers used to mock.
"I was kidding, Dean." Sam rolls his eyes, taking a large sip before he spies me. He coughs and stands.
"How'd you get loose?" He snaps. But I hardly mind him. Dean looks at me and the air around me crackles. Dean's curious instantly, and wary. He stands beside his brother, on high alert in an instant. He's a warrior and I need him.
"I'd like to employ you." I call, striding past Sam who had started walking towards me. Dean's eyes widen as I tilt back my hood.
"The kid from yesterday?" He doesn't sound sure. I probably looked very drawn in and sickly.
"My name is Cas-" I bit my tongue. How foolish. I had nearly given him my name in a room fool of strangers. His powerful loyalty wafted over me, cocooning me in a shell of false safety. The loyalty he had to Sam. If I had my powers I could transfer that devotion to myself, Dean would die to protect me. The overwhelming desire to bond him to me is instant. I won't be able to for weeks. I'll have to hire him until then, and perhaps form a normal bond.
"Cas? Weird name." Dean says, and he's speaking lowly. Green eyes peering down at me like he can feel my aura pressing over his chest searching out his every emotion.
"I need a guard, someone to help me travel to the Lower Realm." I stare at him hard, not letting his eyes leave mine. He has no choice, I would like to compel him but I'm still so very weak.
"Sorry, kid. I don't do babysitting jobs. Try Gordon over there." He jerks a thumb back to the dark man who is hunting me for Zachariah. My chest aches when he looks up, but only to throw an annoyed look at Dean.
"You don't understand-" You belong to me. I'd heard of familiars. But Dean was clearly human. But my soul climbed over his, finding a bond I'd never felt with anyone. He would protect me. I could feel it. Dean didn't seem to agree.
"Look, kid. I'm sort of busy, why don't you-" Before he can finish Gordon is up and across the room. Dagger inches from my throat before Dean's wrenching him back.
"What the hell!" Dean shouts. The tavern turns into an all out brawl. I'm much too weak to fight. I stagger back into the wooden bar. Dean pulls the massive sword slung across his back and slams it's broadside into Gordon, sending him flying back with a pained grunt.
"What's wrong with you?!" Dean snarls.
"The boys a demon!" Gordon hisses. I tremble against the platform. A few men turn to me. Dean does as well, dark green eyes flickering with indecision. When another man lunges for me I'm being hauled back. I yelp as I'm drug out the front door, Dean glaring hard in front of me as he holds out his sword.
"How much you paying me, kid?" Dean demands, licking his lips as he sits low in a defense. Arm muscles bulging under his sleeves.
"Fifty gold now, fifty later." I say shakily. Dean's still holding the front of my cloak in his fists.
"That's pretty good." He says, not looking back. He tsk's as one of the men try and dart forward to get to me.
"Hey Sammy!" Dean calls. His brother is still gaping from the back of the tavern.
"I'm gonna take a little trip. Get some easy cash." Dean drawls. Sam instantly begins protesting as Dean whistles.
"Dean, you can't just-" A massive black horse rounds the side of the tavern. A huge boar strapped to her back. Dean cuts down the boar, tossing me up on the saddle.
"I should be back in a few weeks." Dean calls, his horse neighs loudly. Black fur sleek and silken beneath my palms as Dean swings himself up.
"Dean, wait!" Sam shouts, but we are already galloping full speed down the path.
The grit of dirt smears my cheek as Dean forces me down onto the ground, his knee digging painfully into my back.
"So why'd they call you a demon, Cas?" Dean's voise is a lazy drawl of his people, tongue heavy and incompetent. I grind my teeth together and glare hard over my shoulder.
"I don't know." I lie. It's obvious and Dean's soul ripples with distrust. I curse under my breath, cutting Dean off before he can threaten me again.
"I was a prisoner, and I escaped from the castle." I choke, feeling the sick knot tangle in my chest like it always does whenever I remember the castle. Dean leans off a little bit.
"What did you do?" Dean asks tensely, he does not let people in easily. I wish my powers where in full force so I could bask in the glory of his loyalty and love. Something I have never received.
"It's none of your business. All you need to know is that the King has sent his best men to come in search of me and has convinced them that I am some sort of monster." I admit blithely, trying to buck Dean off. He doesn't even seem to notice as he hums low in the back of his throat and seems to loose himself in his thoughts, most likely deciding if he will kill me or assist me.
I hope for the later.
Dean stands and tugs me up with him. I am so weary that my knees nearly buckle.
"Geeze, kid. When was the last time you ate?" He asks with annoyance.
"Two morrows ago." I mutter, eyes sliding shut against my will. Dean hefts me like a large bag, he uses one hand to unravel the back he had attached to Impala. He throws it down on the ground and it unrolls to be a large fur bedding. Dean is a large man so it's understandable why he would need so much bedding.
"Rest, I'm going to get us food." The hunter barks as he quickly makes a fire that takes me well over half an hour to ignite without magic. I try glaring at him, but he is already heading into the woods.
I wake to the smell of roasting meat and someone shaking my shoulder without tenderness.
Roughly jostled, I rake in a terrified breath and slam my palm into Dean's forehead. He grunts before blinking up at my hand which rests on his brow.
"You're strange." He informs, as if I wasn't aware. I drop my hand into my lap and blink the sleep away from my eyes.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you how to punch?" He complains handing me a fat turkey leg. I delay answering by eagerly consuming the meat. The crunch of the skin gives way to the tender flesh that nearly melts on my tongue. I groan and rub the fat smeared over my lips away with my sleeve.
"I've never needed to know how." I confess, devouring the rest of the leg. Dean hands me another hunk of flesh.
"What do you mean? Every kid should know how to fight." Dean huffs, ever the burly peasant.
"I was raised in the castle, I've never had the need for violence." Which was another lie. I was a skilled killer. But currently I was as defenseless as I was clueless on how to survive without the comforts of living with royalty and without having powers.
"Spoiled brat." Dean complains under his breath, savagely ripping into the meat. I sneer at his eating habits but don't comment because it truly is difficult to eat a meal politely without silverware.
After our meal Dean cleans up our makeshift campground.
"So where exactly am I taking you?" Dean asks once we've mounted Impala. She whinnies and blinks large amber eyes at her owner. I can sense her love for her master, paired with a familiarity that is startling. Dean had raised the horse since she was a colt.
"The lower realms." I inform. Dean let's out a loud snort from behind me.
"No seriously." He says, I glare at him over my shoulder.
"I would not joke so lightly." I hiss back tartly, annoyed with him. Dean is so unlike any other person I've ever met, he's almost brutish in his lack of manners. Although refreshing to hear someones true feelings, it was a startling contrast to what I was used to at the palace.
"Kid, you won't survive five minutes in the Lower Realm." He snaps, jerking the reigns so Impala halts.
"That is none of your concern." I feel the prick of my fingernails into my palm. How dare he? I am not a child-
"I'm not going to deliver some kid to his death." Dean insist.
"I am not a child." I snarl, fury finally boiling over. Dean looks at my scrawny frame and raises and eyebrow. I am currently malnourished from weeks of being on the run.
"Could have fooled me." Dean smirks condescendingly. I want to use my magic to knock him off the horse.
"Fine, I'll find someone else to do my bidding." I snap, trying to descend from the massive black horse. Dean boxes me in with a strong forearm around the waist.
"Hold it, kid." Dean starts. I elbow him sharply and he releases me.
"I am not a kid." I snip, dropping to the ground. Dean grips the back of my cloak.
"Look, I was just messing around. Get back up here." Dean says, tugging me back like a kitten being carried by the scruff of the neck by it's mother.
"Release me, heathen!" I snap, shoving at his leather gloved hands. Does the man even own anything not made of some sort of animal flesh.
"Settle down, runt. If I take you to the Lower Realms, what will you do there?" He asks.
"It's the only place where the king has no rule. My cousin has a home and a small herb shop he will allow me to work at." I tell him the truth, and I'm not sure why. I try not to give out any details to any of the strangers I meet. He's still holding the back of my cloak and its irritating.
"Alright," He grips my forearm and lifts me back onto the horse.
"Let's go." He declares, and sets Impala off at a steady gait. I try and peek at him over my shoulder but he meets my gaze, green eyes bright with amusement. I flush and lean away from his chest glaring at the woods ahead.
This will not be an easy voyage.