A/N: Hey everyone! I was in a Medieval mood... Okay, in this fanfic, Cas is a supernatural creature (Though I won't say what, since that comes in with the later chapters) and Dean is still a hunter, but with the good, "old-fashioned" weapons. Sam is not in this story. I added a few OCs, but for the most part, left the real characters as they were. (No major character death, but some OC death) And yes, as you probably read in the description, Dean is an artist in this fic. So without further ado... Here's the fanfic!
P.S. If you want to ignore the author's notes, that's fine with me, just remember that I might explain things, or add a little bit of back story here or there. (They will be at the bottom of this fanfiction, starting at chapter 2)
There was a heavy, thunk as metal struck bone, accompanied by an agonized scream of pain. Dean yanked his sword out of his enemy, the bloody silver glinting in the light of the full moon. "One down, two to go..." He left the man and ran stealthily through the forest, ducking around the ancient trees. He realized his breathing would give him away if the creatures were near, but the exhilaration of the hunt was getting to him, and he couldn't help but grin at the thought of slitting the others' throats. He had waited far too long for this moment.
The snap of a branch alerted him to the presence of his prey, and he tightened the grip on his sword, readying himself for another attack. He listened carefully, waiting for the monster to come close enough.
Snap. Another branch cracked, this time though, it was close, and Dean leapt out from his hiding spot and tackled the woman, driving his blade deep into her skull. She snarled and thrashed about, gnashing her teeth until finally, she too lay silent and still. Dean stood and wiped his two handed silver sword on his pants, still listening for any sign of the last beast.
In his peripheral vision he caught a sudden blur of movement, and he wasted no time in chasing after it. "Come back here you son of a bitch!" He yelled, spotting the man again. Dean ran at him, raising his sword above his head, ready to strike down, when he noticed that the man was cowering in fear on the ground, not making any attempt to fight back. He was dressed in a worn leather jerkin and shredded, bloodstained shirt and pants; not the typical werewolf attire. "Who are you?" Dean inquired, the grip on the hilt of his sword loosening slightly.
"P-Please don't... Don't kill me!" The man opened one eye and looked up at Dean pleadingly. Even in the darkness, it was clear that the man's teeth were human.
Sheathing his sword, Dean held out his hand tentatively. "Do you have a death wish? No one should be out here after dark. Go home." The man grabbed on to his wrist and Dean pulled him up.
"I don't have a home." He said quietly, staring into Dean's emerald eyes. He had a long jagged scar that ran from his hairline, across his right eye, ending just before his nose. It appeared as if something had raked its claws across his face.
Dean pursed his lips and ran a hand through his long hair. "Then I'll bring you back to the village. They'll know what to do with you." He pulled his travelling cloak off his shoulders and handed it to the man, "What's your name?"
"Castiel." He breathed, looking around, rightfully worried something would come out of the bush and attack him.
Dean nodded, waiting until Castiel slung the cloak around his shoulders. "Well Castiel, I hope you're proficient with a weapon, because there's a werewolf that's hunting me, and I've been sent out here to kill it." He drew a slim silver rapier from his belt and passed it to Castiel, hilt first. "And truthfully, I could use some more help."
Castiel eyed the blade nervously. "You're trusting me with a weapon? What if I turned on you?" He looked up at Dean, his one good eye catching the reflected silvery light of the sword.
"For some odd reason I just know you aren't the traitorous type. Now come on, the longer we stand here talking, the longer that bastard has to ready an attack." As soon as Castiel had taken the blade, Dean unsheathed his broadsword and continued along the path through the trees.
Castiel followed behind Dean, his breathing loud and heavy. He held his rapier at his hip, two hands on the hilt. 'What have I gotten myself into...?' He thought, pulling the borrowed cloak closer around himself.
A woman's scream cut through the silence, and Dean broke out in a run. "Elaina!" He shouted, desperately straining his eyes in the darkness. His gaze fell upon a dark figure leaning against the trunk of a tree and he rushed over, kneeling down beside the girl and grabbing her shoulder. "Are you..." He trailed off, pulling his hand away.
Dean felt the blood dripping down his fingers. "They got me... Dean please... Kill me..." He shook his head, in complete shock.
"I can't." He croaked, laying his sword down on the forest floor. "I can't kill you..."
"You have to..." Elaina whispered, "Remember what I taught you. I would rather die a human than live as a beast, Dean. Kill me..." She placed a soft, reassuring hand on his cheek, smearing it with blood.
Dean's vision was beginning to blur. "No I can't! I refuse! Don't make me do this... You know I could never- NO!" He screamed, watching in horror as his aunt plunged the blade into her heart.
She didn't cry out, only gave a weak smile and whispered, "Remember... What I..." Elaina's voice trailed off and her hand dropped to the ground.
In a sudden fit of rage, Dean threw his shield at a tree, where it embedded itself into the thick bark. He screamed at the top of his lungs, unintelligent and grief-filled. As he ploughed through the forest, running as fast as his feet could carry him, he felt hot, angry tears carving tracks down his dirt covered face. He didn't care anymore. He had only one thought on his mind now.
Dean heard footsteps behind him and hurled a dagger at the approximate location. He swirled around just in time to see the last werewolf being pinned to a tree by his forearm, the dagger shooting straight through his flesh. The wolf man howled in pain and tried to yank the blade free, but Dean was already rushing forward, sword in hand, pointed directly at his heart. He felt a surge of anger as he noticed the blood around the man's face; this had been the one that turned Elaina.
His blade impaled the beast, killing it instantly; the silver sword sharp as ever. Dean pushed the corpse off the end of the sword with his foot, and stabbed over and over, taking out his anger, his guilt and his pain on the dead werewolf. He knew it wouldn't do any good, and unfortunately it didn't make him feel any better, but he just kept stabbing the body, watching the blood spurt from the mangled remains.
Someone put their hand on his shoulder, but he continued on, ignoring it. It was only when Castiel grabbed his arm and pulled the sword from him did he turn and growl, "Leave me alone. I've finished my task; Just let me die..." He wiped his eyes, finally noticing that Castiel had carried Elaina's body with him, along with Dean's ruined shield.
"You said you'd bring me to the village, and we can't just leave her out here..." Castiel nodded towards Elaina's lifeless form. "Come on, you've gotten your revenge; he's dead. And... I'm sure she would have wanted you to keep living..."
"You know nothing about her," Dean snarled, pulling his arm out of Castiel's grip. "I should have died in her place... She was a good woman, she didn't deserve to die." He took his sword back from Castiel and drove it heavily through the werewolf's skull one last time before wiping the blood off on the grass. Dean let out a shaky sigh and stood up, not able to meet Castiel's gaze.
Picking up Elaina carefully, Castiel turned to Dean, "Lead the way." He said somberly, letting Dean take the lead again. The two were silent walking back to the village, neither tried to initiate conversation, and Castiel knew Dean was not in any mood to talk anyways.
They got to the gates at around midnight, but as soon as the gatekeeper spotted them, he yelled down, "Ho, who goes there! Sir Dean? Is that you?" Castiel could see the man lean down from his perch, squinting at them curiously. "Who's with you?"
Dean glanced over at Castiel, then replied, "I found him while on a hunt. His name is Castiel. Gadreel, please just let us in." His gaze fell to Elaina's torn up face and he inhaled sharply, his lips pursed.
"Fine! But if he turns out to be a creature, you'll be the one with blood on your hands!" He disappeared behind the wall again, and the heavy gate began to crank open. The grating noise it emitted hurt Castiel's sensitive ears, and he grimaced as he made his way into the village.
Castiel looked up from the dirt path and inhaled sharply. It was a quaint, yet bustling little village, even that late at night. Candle lit houses lined the streets, silhouettes of their inhabitants being cast onto the thin curtains. It overwhelmed Castiel, but at the same time, he felt excited and privileged to be in such a place.
"You haven't got anywhere to stay, right?" Dean asked quietly when they were out of earshot of the gatekeeper. He stopped when they got to the last house on the street - which was far removed from the rest of the village - and motioned for Castiel to follow him. "We need to give her a hunter's funeral, first and foremost... Set her down here."
He tossed a burlap bag to Castiel. "Hold that for me... We'll need it in a minute." His expression was grim as he began to place wood in a rectangular formation, large enough to support Elaina's form. When he had finished, Castiel helped him lift her up onto the pile. Dean took the bag back from him with a nod and began to dump the contents of it over Elaina's lifeless body before using his tinderbox to light a fire under the woodpile. Without another word, he walked back towards the house.