The brightest fell
Soooo… I have an exam coming. I should study.
BUT I just re-watched Stardust a few days ago, and it hit me I've never read a Supernatural Stardust AU. So here we are! I don't know if it has ever been done... but I couldn't get the story out of my mind. Obviously Castiel is the fallen star, and Tristan is sometimes Dean, sometimes Sam, but since I don't want to reuse the movie's plot that should be it.
The title is from a Shakespeare quote: "Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell."
Please review? I love feedback! It would made me very very happy!
I don't own Supernatural, nor Stardust or the quotes at the beginning of the chapters, and I'm not going to gain money from this story.
Rating: T
Summary: When Mary Winchester fell ill, her sons decided to catch a falling star to heal her. It would probably be easier without witches hunting them, flying pirates, a funny blue sparrow and mysterious travelers. It would also be easier if said star wasn't so grumpy and with that ridiculous bed-hair.
Chapter one: Never wish upon a star
"Never wish. Especially, never wish upon a star, which is astronomically stupid." – Terry Pratchett
A long time ago, so long people almost lost even the memory of it, there was in England a little village named Wall. It was a tiny little village, with narrow streets and blooming flowers at the windows of every house. People was cordial, the sky usually sunny and the village prosperous.
In a cold winter night, though, there was a house where there was no happiness.
The house had been built almost fifty years before our story, by a man named Henry Winchester. This man had been a wise, kind man, a scholar and a husband, and he had passed away many years ago with his wife Millie, leaving their lovely house to their only son, John.
John was a young man, broad shoulders and dark hair, and he had committed the terrible sin to fall in love with the most beautiful girl of the village. She had shining blond hair, gentle hands and a silvery laugh, and her name was Mary Campbell.
Oh, wasn't it a scandal. A Winchester, poor if not for his hard work as carpenter, and a Campbell girl? Old Samuel Campbell fought with all his strength to prevent the union, but Mary ran away in the evening to steal a kiss from John behind the church, and John awaked with the dawn to go under Mary's bedroom and be the first to wish her a good day, and eventually even old Samuel gave up.
The newlywed couple renovated Henry's old house, and everyone used to say there had never been happier groom and wife in all England.
Samuel passed away before he could meet his two grandsons. Dean Matthew Winchester was born at the end of winter, and he came out without crying, with round big eyes open on the world and a handful of pale freckles on his chubby cheekbones. He was a sweet child, like rarely you see. Karen Singer, one of Mary's best friends and the smith's wife, used to say there wasn't a child as kind as this one. He always smiled to everyone, clapping happily his hands and grinning with a half-toothed grin when some villager cooed him.
He was four, and already walking and talking and running around with the Harvelles' little girl Joanna Beth, when Mary gave birth to Samuel Henry Winchester. It was not an easy delivering, even though villagers could already smell summer in the air. Mary bled and screamed, but she gripped her husband's hand and gritted her teeth. Sam was little for a newborn, tiny hands and round hazel eyes, just like his father, and when he cried at night (and he cried a lot) Dean managed to get inside the crib and curled himself like a comma around his baby brother, until Sammy stopped crying.
Both boys grew up in a blink. Dean excelled in manual activity, he was the best in his sparring class and he soon began to help Bobby Singer, the smith, in his work, to get some money home. Meanwhile, every teacher praised Sam's quick intelligence and kindness, and every one often said to John and Mary they had to be very proud of their kids. Dean walked Lisa Breaden to the village dance when he turned eighteen, and everyone said they made a lovely couple indeed. He offered her a flower and she blushed, all dark waves of soft hair and a white smile on her dark skin, and Sam teased his brother until Amelia Richardsen kissed the younger Winchester on his cheek, and he turned the color of summer poppies. John and Mary watched it and they smiled softly, dancing together with the light of the fires casting shadows on them. It was an happy, if simple, life.
Anyway, that is in the past.
Our real story began a night, when Mary didn't wake up. She had been unwell and fevering for a few days already, and despite John's insistence that she stayed home and took some rest, she had preferred to go and help Ellen Harvelle, who was the nearest thing to a doctor that the village had.
That fatal night, Mary came back as pale as snow, eyes glossy and circled with dark shadows. She had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fire place. Sam, who was now a ganky fifteen years old boy with growing limbs and floppy hair, shook her arm gently when Dean announced supper was ready.
"Mom?" the younger brother called. "Mom, dinner is ready. Dean made chicken. Mom, wake up."
Mary turned on the couch, her eyelids flickering slightly. Her skin was startling white and covered in cold sweat. When Sam shook her a little stronger, she turned again and coughed. Blood ran out of her pale lips, splattering her chin and neck. Sam blinked and then screamed in panic.
"Dad! Dean! Something is wrong! Mom, Mom, please, wake up, Mom! Dad!"
John jolted toward the couch, and when he saw the blood his eyes widened in horror.
"Dean, go get Ellen Harvelle." he ordered, sinking to his knees and taking Mary's hand between his as Dean grabbed his coat and almost threw the door down in his haste.
"Mary, Mary, my love, please answer to me." John pleaded. Sam sniffed, tears running down his cheeks.
"She needs water." he croaked. "She is sweating, she needs water."
John nodded, nuzzling Mary's hand and pressing a kiss on her pulse point. "Good thinking, son. Go get it." he said. His voice was strained, and he gulped. A sob escaped his throat when Mary coughed again, new blood leaving her cheeks and flooding out of her lips.
John wiped away it with a cloth and turned her head so that Sam could press a cup of water against her mouth. She managed to drink a few drops before she started to cough again.
"Here, I brought her!" called Dean, pushing the door open and almost collapsing inside. Ellen came in with her long steps, her gowns flapping behind her, and her daughter Jo followed and pushed the door closed to keep out the cold wind and the evil spirits that like to play in the night.
Following Ellen's instructions, John hooked one arm under Mary's knees and the other one around her shoulders, carrying her easily upstairs and in their bedroom. She didn't weight anything, like a little bird made only of bones and feathers.
Sam pressed his face on Dean's chest as Ellen visited Mary, speaking only to ask Jo to pass her some medical instrument.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Ellen tucked Mary under the covers and tilted her head to John.
"I think it is better if we speak alone, John." she said softly.
John left his face fall into his hands.
"Ellen, please… There is nothing you can do?" he asked, the very picture of a broken man.
Ellen sighed. "Alone, John." she repeated. Dean clenched his fists, tears running down his cheeks.
"We have the right to know!" Sam exploded. "What is happening to mom?"
"Dean, take your brother out of here." John asked without looking up. Dean stared at his father, then at Ellen, and he saw the woman was crying.
"Sammy, let's go." he whispered quietly, pulling his brother's sleeve. Sam didn't move.
"Is she dying?" he asked. Ellen tried to wipe away the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, without managing it.
"I'm sorry, boys." she answered quietly. "This illness your mother has… they call it the Red Plague. I do not know a cure for it. No one does. I'm so very sorry."
So, you see, my dears, it was a very sad night in the Winchester house, that night.
John fell asleep kneeling next to Mary, holding her hand like if he could have pulled her out from Death's claws just by physical strength.
Sam fell asleep on his mother's favorite chair, curled in a tight ball and sobbing until his eyes were too red and puffed to stay open.
Dean didn't fall asleep at all.
He had a spot, on the roof, where he used to go when he wanted to be alone. It was a very good spot. It was just above the kitchen, so that the stone was warmed up by the heat of the stove. It was shadowed as well, by an old oak that was where Dean had kissed Lisa Breaden for the first time and that he and Sam always climbed even if Mary always scolded them for it.
Dean blinked furiously and wiped his eyes with rage. There was a dull pain just behind his ribcage, and he pressed his palm against it, feeling a scream building up inside his throat.
It was not fair. It was not fair. He thought about his mom, about how soon her breath was going to stop and pastor Jim was going to say a few words on her grave.
Not fucking fair.
"Dean?"
Dean tensed up, but he didn't turn. Jo carefully climbed next to him and sat down at his side, her blonde hair curling around her face.
"Are you alright?" she asked carefully. Dean gritted his teeth.
"Fuck off." he snapped angrily. Best friend or not, he wanted to be alone.
Jo stayed silent for some minute, then laid back, her hands clasped under her head.
"When my dad died," she whispered quietly, "I thought the world was ending. It hurt to much to ever think about it."
"Does it even stops to hurt?" Dean croaked. He felt tears rolling down to his chin once again, but he couldn't bother to be ashamed of them.
"No." Jo replied simply. Her brown doe eyes were sad as she turned slightly to look up at Dean. "But… you copy, you know? It stops hurts so much, and you start to remember all the good things."
Dean hit the tiles with his fist. "I don't want that." he growled. "She is not dead yet. There must be a way to save her!"
In that moment, a flash of light cut the dark sky in two, white and pure before disappearing in the skyline.
"Look, a falling star!" Jo exclaimed, pointing her finger toward West. Dean slammed again his hand against the roof, and a bruise started to appear on his skin.
"I'm not gonna wish upon a freaking star, Jo!" he yelled. "I don't care about stars, and sure as hell they don't care about my mom!" An aborted sob shook his body. "Just… just leave me alone." he whispered.
Jo stood up with a sigh and pressed briefly her lips to Dean's forehead. They were cold and slightly chapped, and she smelled of smoke and of the poppies her mother used for work.
"They do say the blessing of a star can heal anything and everything." she said sadly. "Isn't a wish better than nothing?"
She was long gone, probably at home under her covers, when Dean's head jolted suddenly up, his body rigid with cold but his eyes sparkling with a new hope.
A star had just fallen. They said a star could heal anything. If that was true, couldn't it be possible…?
It was crazy. It was foolish and absurd. But… but what if…?
Heart beating fast, Dean climbed down the roof and inside the window of his bedroom. He grabbed his cloak and his bag, then he thought about it and took his short sword as well. He tiptoed in the kitchen and stuffed inside the bag some cheese and some bread and a little bit of ham.
"Where are you going?"
Dean turned abruptly to see Sam standing near the door, their father's clothes hanging awkwardly on his thin body.
"I'm gonna catch a falling star. For mom. To help her get better." Dean explained, because the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Ellen had said the Red Plague needed at least month to kill you. He could find the star and get back in a month. He could do it. Sam widened his eyes.
"Have you gone crazy?" he asked, taking a step toward his brother. "That's just a legend, Dean. Stars are made of burning gas. They have not healing powers."
Dean stared at the floor, clenching his bag and feeling far older than his nineteen winters.
"Sammy. I want to go." he said quietly. "I need to go and try."
Sam bit his lip.
"I want to go with you, then." he murmured softly. "You'll need me."
Dean shook his head and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. "No, Sam." he answered with the same soft voice. "Dad will need you here. I don't want him to be alone. And the star I saw falling, it fell somewhere behind the Wall. They say it is dangerous there."
"That's exactly why you need me!" Sam insisted fiercely. "I can speak languages and I can spar!"
Dean stubbornly shook his head once again. "Sammy. No."
Sam looked away, his eyes shining again with tears. "Promise me you'll be careful." he whispered.
Dean grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him in a bones crushing hug. "I will, Sammy. Take care, little bro."
He let go of his brother and took his way toward the Wall.
No one actually knew by who, when and why the Wall had been built. It was as tall as a grown up man, and grey with time, made of solid stone and covered with green musk. It went without interruptions to miles and miles, and the only passage to the other side was a break in the stone at barely half a mile from the village.
This break was guarded day and night by a man named Rufus Turner. He was old and gruff, one of those blunt men who are so rare to find nowadays and who won't yield for anything. The villagers saw him rarely, despite his long life friendship with Bobby Singer, because he almost never left the Wall.
Such was the man Dean was currently trying to reason with.
"C'mon, Rufus, I need to get to the other side!" the boy snapped his exasperation waving his hand toward the grass behind the Wall. "I told you, it's for my mom!"
"And I told you, no one goes past this point!" Rufus growled, crossing his arms on his chest. "Not even for the Queen!"
"You're a stubborn old goat, you know that?!"
"Nothing I haven't heard, boy! Now go home before I decide to tell your father!"
Dean stomped angrily his feet and stared at the man, wondering if he could be able to take him down. Rufus must had to read his mind, because he waved his walking stick in the air and gave a long look to Dean.
"Go home! Hurry up!" he said, conversation clearly concluded.
Dean opened his mind to give the old man a smart answer, when suddenly a cry resonated from the river that flowed across the village.
"Please! Help! I'm drowning! Help!"
Rufus swore colorfully and jumped down his stool with an incredible agility for a man his age.
"Don't move from here!" he ordered before starting to run. Dean was ready to follow him and help, when a shadow coming from nowhere grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the Wall.
"Run!"
"Sammy?"
Sam pulled his brother on the other side of the Wall, and both Winchesters fell and rolled down on the grass.
"The hell, dude?!" Dean asked, panting heavily. Sam smiled, dimples lightening up his still red eyes.
"That was Jo. She isn't really drowning, you know."
Dean blinked and stared at his brother.
"You… tricked Rufus." he said slowly. Sam nodded proudly.
"Yep! As soon as you left, I realized you said you had to pass the Wall, and that Rufus was never going to let you… so I went to wake Jo up and she agreed to help and distract him!" he answered.
Dean felt a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.
"You're awesome." he said solemnly. Then he frowned. "But now you are on the wrong side of the Wall."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Duh." he snorted. "I got my cloak, my sword, and more food. You need me, Dean. I just proved it, didn't I? Jo and Ellen and Bobby will look after Mom and Dad until we come back with the star."
"Fine, fine, got it. You're coming too."
Dean was now downright grinning. He clapped Sam's shoulder and stood up with a jolt. Time to catch a falling star.
When Rufus came back, mumbling about stupid kids and their stupid jokes and he was so going to speak to Harvelle about all of this, he didn't see anything but grass and hay all around the Wall. The brothers were long gone.
Many, many miles away from the Wall, the star who had fallen tried to stand up. He was cold, and he was confused. His leg hurt, and he had never hurt before. He had never been cold either. A pained cry escaped his mouth as he managed to sit up, blinking in the dark. A myriad of smells hit him from everywhere, smells and sounds and the texture of the dirt under his fingers. He had never heard anything before, never touched anything, never smelled anything that wasn't ozone and helium. He awkwardly patted a stone, marveling at how it felt. He had landed at the edge of a luxurious forest, and the strength of the impact had created a enormous craterous all around the star. He was covered with dust, and he felt so very cold, because the silvery vest he was wearing wasn't enough to shelter him from the wind.
"Well well, it apparently worked." said a deep voice. The star startled, looking around with wild blue eyes. A man came out from the shadow of a tree. His eyes were as black as charcoal, and his clothes were also dark. He looked up and down the star with an appraising look. The star swallowed (what a curious feeling it was!) and tried to shrink away.
The man chuckled.
"No need to be scared, darling." he smirked. "I know what you are. What's your name?"
"Castiel." the star rasped, his voice cracking like if he had never used it. And, indeed, he had never spoken to anyone before, not through words at least. The man grinned, and Castiel swallowed again. He had seen many men smiling, but he didn't like this man's smile.
"You can call me Crowley." the man introduced himself. His smirk became suddenly predatory. "But enough with the pleasantries. Girls." he called with a voice without any warmth, and suddenly Castiel realized they weren't alone anymore.
"Take him."
Three pairs of hands shoved sharp nails in the star's arms, and suddenly everything became black.
