Chapter 1: Under the Hood

The branches swayed in the breeze, causing rays of light to shift and dance. It created a beautiful pattern on the forest below. The animals were scurrying about their usual business. The calm morning air was pleasant- it was absolutely fit for hunting.

Andrew ducked behind a tree, watching the deer. It was one of the lord's deer- he was on his property. Still he needed the deer to feed his family and so he supposed he would need to take the risk. He was desperate, his eyes followed the animal slowly. He was tracking each movement, each footstep. From this distance it was hard to tell if the deer was a foul or full grown- he hoped it was the later.

Andrew Gallagher drew his bow back pointing it carefully and stopping to observe the conditions. There was a gentle breeze coming from due north west and so he adjusted slightly. He wasn't fantastic with a bow but he believed that he would be able to do what he needed. He could kill this deer and he and his brother would have food for the upcoming winter.

He let his arrow fly, but it missed the mark- landing just above the deer on a nearby tree. "Alack!" he muttered to himself. Then he heard a soft clicking of hooves in the distance- he ducked behind the tree next to him.

The lord's men.

"Hark! I hear thy footsteps, off yonder!" a voice shouted- dismounting and walking around. "I abhor playing this game of cat and mouse. Now come hither, prithee."

Andrew sunk against the tree. It was only a matter of time before they found him- usually the penalty for killing the lords game was an arm. He shuddered, causing the leaves to rustle below him. He prayed that they wouldn't find him hiding amongst the greenery. Yet, he knew that he shouldn't falsify his hopes- the lord's men always found their prey.

"We shall find thee, puking ill-breeding lout! It shall be best for ye to come out now. Before we tear thy flesh from they bones!" he hissed. Zachariah was infamous amongst among the commoners as the harshest and most petty of the lord's enforcers.

He stalked around, looking for his prey- he had to be here somewhere...

"Are ye prepared?" a soft voice asked readying his bow from the shadows.

"Aye." his brother returned, readying himself.

The elder brother nodded and flashed a quick smile before he pulled his hood up over his face. He rose to his feet pointing his bow at the ring leader of the pack. "Hark!" he shouted, drawing the attention of everyone.

"Go to, ye insufferable whelp. Thou should'st flee before he has intervened in the kings affairs. I shall turn my head, if ye still wish to retreat." Zachariah retorted, reaching for an arrow out of his holster.

The elder brother smirked below his hood, allowing an arrow to fly and knock back Zachariah's holster. "It would be unwise to underestimate me. Me thinks ye has a death wish of sorts."

The younger brother took his cue, pulling the strings he was holding. The tree's began to rustle as if the kings men were surrounded. Sam smiled, content to know that his contraption was working. This was the way the Winchesters operated- Dean would be the figure head (although no one knew who he actually was) and Sam would do the leg work. In some instances- like this one- he would fake back up.

The Winchesters rarely worked with other people, since they had very few companions. Sometimes family friends, but more often then not- they would need to fake their numbers. Sam often worked up contraptions to make them appear as if they were many instead of two. It was true, Sam was the brains.

Then there was Dean- he was the figure. The masked man who punished the wicked and gave to the poor. Few knew of his identity, but that was the point. The reason that this gig worked for them was that no one knew who was behind the mask. Dean chuckled a little, seeing the king's men squirm.

"Fie. Its the cutpurse, Robin hood." Zachariah cursed. "Retreat men. I shall stay and hold him. Return to the king and let him know what has happened."

"As you will." Dean retorted, shooting an arrow that whizzed only inches away from Zachariah's head. He cursed loudly and rode off with his men. Once the king's men were gone Dean pulled his hood off- ducking into the shadows of the trees. "Come hither Sammy. We shall return home."

"It was dangerous for ye to let that arrow fly, Dean." Sam whined, looking irritated. His companion merely shrugged his shoulder's. Sam rolled his eyes then gazed over to the man they had saved. The two stayed in the trees until they were sure that they had escaped the man they saved sights. The two of them needed to remain incognito if they were going to keep up there work. Once they were out of the wood work- heading towards town Sam decided to renew his argument. "I was serious Dean, me thinks you have some type of death wish. What if the king's men had pursued?!"

"Then we would have dealt with it as we saw fit." Dean retorted, with irritation in his tone. His brother was always nagging him about things like this. Dean didn't see the point in being so worried about things. They always muddled through- they were always able to get what they needed done. He always escaped without anyone finding out who he was.

So what was the big issue with him taking a few risks? This wasn't his first performance and it certainly wouldn't be his last.

"One of these days we will be caught because of thy carelessness." Sam sighed rolling his eyes and punching his brother in his arm. "Perhaps ye are trying to get us caught?"

"N'er." Dean answered his voice dripping with sarcasm. Sam punched his brother again for good measure. "If thou punch me one more time, brother." he threatened. Sam shrugged, knowing that it was a hollow threat.

The two walked side by side enjoying the gentle breeze of mid fall. The country side was most beautiful this time of year. The fields were ripe and ready for harvest and many peasants were about reaping wheat with their sickles. This was Dean's favorite time of year- the autumn was just so refreshing.

Though he still wasn't fond of walking. Why did he let his brother talk him into walking instead of riding? They had left their horses at Bobby's- one of the few people who actually knew what they were out doing.

It had all started after their father passed away. Originally, he was the real Robin hood- Sam and Dean followed to do the leg work. However, he had gotten ill in the past winter and he had passed away. To the world, Robin hood stood as a figure of hope. A beckon of light for those who were unable to stand up for themselves.

So after John Winchester passed, Dean took his place. No one knew who was under the hood so the transition was simple. There was a little bit of adjustment time, since now instead of two boys to do leg work Dean could only rely on Sam. Still they worked well as a team and Sam was one of the most clever people Dean had ever met.

He trusted his brother with his life. Believing wholeheartedly that Sam would come through for him every single time.

Sam had never known his mother and Dean only barely knew her. She had passed away in child birth, John had been heart broken. He had tried to get her in to see one of the king's doctors, since she was ill in the months leading up to her death. He saved up all the money that he could find and offered it as payment. Yet they still refused her treatment. John had wanted nothing more then to get her well before the baby but, the doctors refused to see her.

And it was this moment, when the gears in Johnathan Winchester's brain started turning. The abacus started to click together, calculating a plan to get revenge. It was always about revenge, wasn't it? Dean had never been angry at the king's men for what they did to his mother. Then after his father passed he refused to blame them for that either. But Sam did.

Keeping the Winchester fire alive.

In a way, his becoming Robin hood was a way of preventing people for having accidents like Mary. He would steal from the wealthy and give to those in need. Though it was a good use of his revenge- taking from the dicks in charge and giving to those in need. He was doing it for all the wrong reasons. Then there was the fact that John raised his boys in the ways of thievery, both Dean and Sam were capable of being Robin hood. On rare occasions they would both dress in the costume to confuse their pursuers.

For a while, Sam ran away from helping saying that revenge was never over. Saying that he never wanted to help dad and his brother to continue the cycle. He didn't know his mother and doing this would never bring her back to life. But, that was before a group of bandits took away the love of his life.

About two and a half years back, a nasty group of bandits had rode through town. The usual type of demands; women, booze, money, food, valuables. They gathered all of the women into the center of town, saying that if the villagers paid a hefty some of gold they would remain unscathed. Otherwise they would be taken as needed for some entertainment. Among those girls was Sam's lover. Jessica.

Sadly, the demands were not met, the villagers refused to turn over their daughters. Besides that, the town was small and mostly poor. They didn't have the money or the food to provide for a bunch of bandits anyway. Because of their refusal to cooperate with the 'authorities' the whole place was burned. Sam's girlfriend Jessica was among the villagers that passed in the fire.

From that moment on, Sam was never the same. He insisted that he get back in on the life, he wanted to save people and get revenge. Sam was more like his father then he would ever know. Their father got ill and passed away soon after that, flaming the fire in Sam's belly even further. For a while there, Sam was actually kind of scary. He insisted on being the figure head for a while and insisted on taking stupid jobs that were almost suicidal.

Though over time, Sam had started to mellow out. He had stopped wanting to be the one on the front line and he had stopped wanting to kill himself on the job. Dean was grateful for Sam's mellowing out it made looking out for him much easier.

He was glad things were finding a sense of normalcy now.

So on an average day Dean would usually take on the roll. He felt that it was his job to protect his younger brother. So it was easier for Dean to be the figure- if anyone would be caught and hung it would be Dean. He was determined to make sure that he took that fall, not his younger brother who had so much to live for.

Anyway, Bobby was like their own blood. When their father passed he took them in and gave them a home. He didn't have much to offer as most of the town only saw him as a drunk, but Bobby was amazing at gathering information. He had shelves upon shelves of books that he collected. People who were close to him considered him the local library.

Most of the jobs the brothers took were from Bobby. He was very good at finding those in need. Bobby also helped Sam and Dean to come up with a lot of their get away tricks. He was very clever, even when he was drunk. The three worked together to help those in need. Those who had no one else to turn to.

And when they were lucky- they were able to screw the king's men. Which delighted Dean and Sam more then it should have.

The king ruled over the country. He wasn't a bad king, but there was a lot of poverty, illness, civil wars, and death. The king had little hand in anything these days. People were dying and he didn't do anything to stop it. He was uninvolved and that's what made him a bad ruler. In fact the country was in a state of chaos at the moment, people stood at a crossroads- divided.

The king had recently turned over a large portion of his power to his first born son, Michael. Apparently, Michael was a a student of some of the finest military tacticians in history. He learned from the best and so the king had relinquished a lot of his power to Michael.

However, his second born did not approve and denounced the king and his brother as traitors to the land. A large portion of the military had segregated themselves from the king and civil war was declared. Many of the smaller villages had been destroyed or screwed over (especially with winter approaching quickly). When the brother's went to war, it was all the little people who paid the price. Michael divided his forces into two groups; the king's (or the lord's) men who where in charge of enforcing order along the country side and the main army which would be mobilized when needed.

However there was a problem with Michael splitting the group into two- the king's men? They were completely inconsiderate to the little people. They had burnt down, pillaged, ravaged, and destroyed multiple towns. Leaving many people starving, without homes, or without enough food for the winter.

Sadly, Michael was the more considerate of the two. He tried to do as little as possible to the towns in the cross fire. The problem was that his men didn't always follow Michael's lead. Lots of nobles had a difficulties caring about peasants. They never had any problems with the winter so why should they be considerate of those who did?

They needn't be.

Yet the king never did anything to intervene. He simply let Michael do what he saw fit. Mostly Michael just sent soldiers to do whatever needed to be done. Many of those soldiers had their own agendas and it was people like that, that Dean and Sam stole from. They couldn't stand to sit idly by while peoples lives were ruined.

So Robin hood naturally became a figure head for those who were in need. Those who needed someone to defend them. A faceless renegade who protected the weak and punished the wicked. Strangely, Dean didn't think of himself as righteous or think that he was grand. He just knew that if no one stood up for these people, they'd never survive.

Bobby's home was on the outskirts of the village. He wasn't a friend to most of the town, since everyone seemed to think he was full of nonsense. The good news was that the home was surprisingly spacious for someone of his class. The manor had been inherited from his father before him, it was just across the moors outside of town. It took only fifteen minutes to get into the market to buy the necessities.

Yet the land around it was spacious and Bobby had made an archery range in the back. It was mostly for Sam and Dean to practice now, though back in the day Bobby also shot a bow. There was even enough room to ride a horse as you practiced, though Sam and Dean rarely shot arrows while mounted. There was also a fresh well which made drawing water convenient. Bobby's home had everything that one would need.

"Bobby, we've returned from over yonder." Sam called as they entered the dark house. While it was the closest thing the brothers had to home- it wasn't the cleanest place. The place was covered wall to wall in dusty books. There was a gentle fire burning in the hearth and a few candles were about the room.

"Bobby?" Dean called. However, no sound returned. Dean stalked to Bobby's bedroom and glanced inside, seeing him asleep- or passed out- on his bed. Dean backed out, closing Bobby's door and turning to his brother. "Seems he's drunk."

Sam smiled, this was typical for the mid day. Bobby had difficulties sleeping at night, most of the time he slept at odd hours of the day or in the wee hours of the morning. "Should we wake him?"

Dean shook his head. "Anon. He hath earned his rest."

Sam nodded, taking a book and climbing into a chair. Not many people knew how to read or write, but Bobby had learned (from who knows who) and he had taught both Sam and Dean. Sam took full advantage of knowing how to read and would often curl up with a book when they had the time. Dean however, wasn't interested. He just wasn't the reader- more often he would spend his free time at the archery range or at the local tavern.

Yet it was too early to have a pint and he didn't feel as though he needed more practice at the moment. Instead he decided to step outside for a walk. This town had been his home for a few months now, the brothers were staying with Bobby. Dean liked having a type of base camp here- before when they lived with their father they just bounced around. They never stayed in one place for long, which made things hard. After all, all Dean had ever really wanted was a family and roof over his head. Neither of which was easy to maintain.

Family was wonderful but it made him absolutely miserable. Sometimes Sam was such a pain and Dean wanted to smack him upside the head. His little brother was so stubborn and always insisted upon being right. He hated it, Dean wished Sam would just take a step back every once and a while and listen to his older brother. Bobby claimed that Sam was just going through a rebellious period and that he'd move on but for now it was most frustrating.

Dean went into his room and stripped out of his robin hood get up. After all, he had no intentions of saving anyone else tonight. Perhaps he should go for a walk, stroll in the moon's beautiful beams. He supposed that would be nice, since he didn't feel like paying a visit to the local tavern or logging in anymore hours at the range.

"I shall venture for a walk. I will be back before the moon does crest in the sky." Dean called, slinging his bow and quiver. He reached for the door handle thinking Sam had nothing to say.

"Be careful." Sam answered, shifting in his seat so he could get better light from the candle he had lit. Dean felt tempted to ask 'when wasn't he careful' but he fought back the urge to be smart. Sam would merely get irritated and Dean really had no reason to do that to his brother. Besides, Sam might just throw a book at him and that would be quite painful. Books make good projectiles, Bobby had proved that on many occasions.

Dean closed the door behind him carefully. He didn't want to disturb his brother more then he had too. Dean didn't mind giving Sam space to breathe every once and a while. The kid needed it, he had pretty much been attached at the hip to his brother ever since their father passed away. So giving Sam space almost felt like telling Sam that he respected him.

The evening air was cool, it wasn't cold but it still could send some shivers down one's spine. Dean didn't have an issue with it really, he preferred cold to hot. For some reason it just felt like it was easier for him.

If you squinted you could still see the fading pinks and purples of the sunset, creeping slowly behind the horizon line. The night was working on wrapping its dark blue blanket around the skies, leaving everything barely visible. But for now, Dean was still capable of seeing the hills of wheat and the orchards of apples. There were still a few people still working by torch light, though Dean guessed that they would be gone soon. Hurrying back to their families for the evening.

Dean perched himself atop a hill, looking down. Being up here was calming, the evening air was crisp and there was a wonderful silence. No one was around, no one had any expectations of Dean in this very moment. It was just him, watching as eve turned into night. In a way Dean found it to be one of the most calming times.

He didn't have to look after Sam, he wasn't being hunted. Dean didn't have to worry about anyone sympathizing with him and getting caught. He didn't worry about if he was doing the right thing, or if this was what his father wanted. No Bobby, no Sammy, no mom, no dad, no anyone.

Which was lonely. But in some cases it was better to be alone, no one could hurt him this way. A man needed that time to be himself, to be whoever he wanted to be.

The grass swayed beneath him, as the wind brushed lightly against exposed skin. It was serene in a way. He reached down, touching a blade of grass and thumbing it between his index finger and thumb. He plucked a handful of grass and held it in his hand, watching as the wind swept it up into the atmosphere. Away into the night, away to the stars.

"What beauty." Dean breathed to no one. He lay back in the grass watching the skies above, his eyes tracing constellations that were rising high with the moon. Aquila, Lyra, Hercules, Draco- Bobby had taught Dean a lot about constellations. As much as he never wanted to admit it, the stars were always fascinating to him. Something about being miles away and being able to have beautiful pictures and images to them.

When he looked up to the vast ocean of stars above him, he could see Hercules fighting off any nearby constellation. He could see him attempting to fight off the Draco the dragon. If he looked slightly more south he could see the swan Cygnus flying across the night. He smiled, his dad used to tell him stories about the creatures of the stars.

They may be myths, but they were in part true. No one had seen a dragon in years, but Dean was confident that they still existed somewhere. He didn't know why but he could feel it somewhere deep down in his gut that dragons, pegasus, phoenixs, and all those other beautiful monsters were still out there somewhere.

"By the beauty of Venus, this pup is as clean as a maiden from the mist. What doust thou think? Perhaps he be a noble worth snagging." A voice rang, Dean sat up slowly observing the scene below.

A group of ruffians had surrounded a young man clad in a tan cloak. It was hard to make out any distinctive features on the man because the cloak covered his face. He sat on a white horse which was draped in a tan cloth as well, who looked spooked by the strangers. The young man pulled on the reigns of the horse and soothed it softly, attempting to calm her. "I am afraid you mistake me, good sir. I know not of nobles, ye art sorely mistaken. Please, I implore you let me pass." he replied gruffly.

"Nay young traveler, I fear ye have been caught. Pray tell wherefore a pup such as thee is traversing the night alone? I implore ye, speak. For if ye shan't I should have to remove thy head for thy pretty little shoulders." one of them called, brandishing a cutlass.

Dean shifted, rolling to his feet, gripping his quiver and bow. He didn't have his usual get up (or Sam as back up for that matter) so he didn't have much to work with. Still he needed to help, or at least he thought he needed to help. Heaven knows he would probably regret it later. He ducked into the forest behind him, climbing a tree for better sights over the situation. Once he had situated himself on a high branch, he pulled out an arrow aiming it at one of the brutes.

"Fie and fie again." the young man cursed quietly, patting his horse on the mane.

"The mouth on this one." another called out loud.

Another one stepped closer, causing the horse to buck a little. The young man clung to the reins, trying to calm her. All of them drew their weapons. "Come hither, fledgling cur."

The horse drew back, Dean frowned. He didn't want to spook the horse, that could injure the young man on her back. He drew the bow back, aiming for the man farthest away from the horse. He let the arrow fly, landing in the guys arm. "Pucking toad-spotted vassal!" he cried out loud. The ring leader walked over pulling the guy to his feet.

The horse cried, reeling back causing the young man to fall on his back. The horse spooked and ran behind a bail of compost that was nearby. Falling off of a horse was never fun, but at least now Dean didn't have to worry about where he let his arrows fly. Well, except for the young man nearby. He was still an issue.

"Up. Now." he commanded, tracing the trajectory of the arrow up to where Dean was sitting.

"Fie." Dean cursed barely above a whisper. He reached up, climbing farther up into the trees. He was looking for a spot where the leaves hadn't even begun to fall, a thick brush where he would be able to hide. He pulled another arrow back aiming carefully. The first shot had been a warning shot, this one wouldn't be.

He let another arrow fly and after one full on head shot the bandits spooked and ran. That left the young man in the tan cloak laying on the ground. Dean could leave him, but it wouldn't do the young one much good if another band of robbers or misfits came by while he was still out. He sighed realizing that it was probably best if he stuck around until he woke up.

Much to his dismay.

Dean shifted in the tree's, watching for a moment. He had high hopes that the guy would just wake up. But after a few moments of the guy laying stationary Dean's hopes faded away. Then he hopped down from the tree's branches carefully. He sure as hell didn't want to injure himself. If he hurt himself then he wouldn't be capable of doing his job and he needed to do his job. So he made sure that he wouldn't be hurt climbing down. Once he was down and out of the trees he made his way over to fallen man. He approached with caution, looking worried.

The man laid still, unmoving. Dean crouched in front of him, placing a hand in front his mouth. He waited to see if he would breathe. Though in hindsight he could have probably just sat back and watched to see if his chest moved. He was still breathing so that was good, probably just unconscious. Out in dream land, in some other world.

Dean pulled the hood back carefully, he was greeted with sharp features and a full head of tousled dark brown hair. A sleeping angel, the bandits were right in some ways. He was way to clean to be a peasant. In fact, Dean hadn't seen a person so clean in a long time. Unless they came fresh out of the river. He did however have some shadow on his face, Dean hauled him up and over to the grass so that he wouldn't be in the way of any passing carriages.

Next, he walked behind the compost pile and took the horse by the reins leading him back over to his owner. She spooked at first, drawing back but after a little soothing she relaxed some. He adjusted the tan cloth that was thrown over the horse, however his adjustment only caused the cloak to fall to the other side.

He walked around to the other side, grabbing the blanket that was drenched over the horses wings-

Wings?

Wait-

Dean did a double take, pulling the cloak from the horse completely. The horse turned in a circle, her wings stretching out and flapping a few times. When she flapped her wings it created a soft breeze that blew Dean's hair back a little. She trotted in a circle once or twice, before having her wings reel back in to the sides of her body. Dean watched looking absolutely confused, "A pegasus huh?"

Dean looked over to the fallen young man. "Ye must be someone of import. It hath been a long time since anyone around here hath seen a pegasus..." he said quietly.

Dean scooped down, grabbing the tan blanket and covering the horse. He wasn't sure but he guessed that the man wouldn't want her being exposed to the open. Not many people saw a pegasus within their life time. Having her wings out there, that would be a good reason for bandits to try and take her away.

There were relatively few left alive and most of them were owned by nobles who never even flew. Apparently, flying a pegasus was near impossible- they could be quite rough and wild. Unpredictable, Dean silently wondered if the man was able to fly her. Ride her yes, but fly her? That was a whole different story.

Few flocks of them that traversed the skies now a days. If he was able to fly her, he probably knew where a lot more were. If people found out about that, he'd be in deep. People would hold him and force him to teach them how to fly. They would round up the horses and force them to breed until they could repopulate the species and use them as war horses.

Yet, from what his father told him, pegasus were gentle creatures by nature. They weren't meant to be warriors or to be rode into battle. They were spirited creatures who needed free will and choice to be happy. They needed to be able to adventure where ever the wind would take them. The idea of capturing them and forcing them to be rode for battle made a bubble of rage and disgust build in Dean's gut. He made a mental note not to let anyone see this beautiful creature.

Then Dean relaxed and sat, she followed suit. Horses were empathetic creatures by nature. She saw that he didn't want to hurt her and so she was content to sit down next to him. Dean extended his arm, hesitating a moment then he caressed her mane softly. The horse laid her head down, chewing at some grass near her owners head. "Hungry?" Dean asked, a small smile dancing at his lips. She was cute, for a horse.

Dean leaned back on the horse's side and she didn't seem to mind. She just kept bitting at the grass above her master's head. Dean smiled, stroking her mane so that she stayed subdued. The man shot up looking around, then he palmed his features. He was struggling to adjust to the darkness, he reached back and scratched his head. He must have hurt himself when he fell off the horse.

"Art thou alright?" Dean asked lazily.

The man looked over, obvious confusion in his features. At least, from what Dean could make out in this darkness. Though it was quite difficult with the sun now completely behind the horizon. In fact it was almost impossible to see one's hand in front of their face. "Aye..." he said weakly. "Who wishes to know?"

"No one worth thy time, of that I can assure thee." Dean replied, rising to his feet. "By your leave, I shall make my exit."

"Stay. Pray pardon me, might I ask the name of my savior?" he asked, jumping to his feet also and reaching for Dean's arm. Luckily for Dean it was difficult for the man to make out any features on him, the light was now gone. The man's voice was level and deadpan but something about it lacked an understanding of how things worked.

People weren't supposed to thank him when he helped them, they were supposed to keep going about their business. No one was ever bothered to ask him what his name was before so why should this man be any different? Just the fact that he wanted to thank him made his blood boil a little.

Still Dean smiled a little, forgetting that he couldn't be seen anyway. He wanted nothing to do with the guy. "Nay, I know not of the name of thine savior. I am but a meager peasant who hath found thy lordship stranded in the road. I feared thee may be in danger if a wagon nearby decided to make their rounds. I only moved thou in case of such an event."

"You were not the archer who saved me?" he asked still following closely behind Dean. He felt a stabbing pressure behind his eyes, he was irritated. He felt like this guy was poking at his identity with a stick when all Dean wanted was to be left alone.

No one could know the truth.

"Nay. I know not who saved you. Though the one they call 'Robin hood' lives near. Perhaps it was him." Dean lied skillfully.

"I see..." he said quietly, walking back to his horse. "Pray tell dost ye know of an inn within reach?"

"There is one if thou should follow this very road yonder." Dean called over his shoulder. He was glad to know that he was ditching the guy, he seemed kind of clueless. Maybe it was a noble thing. However he spoke too soon, within moments the young man was along side him sitting on his horse.

"Dost ye live in the village?" he asked.

"Aye." Dean answered feeling a bit exhausted along with his irritation. The guy seemed to have a tough time picking up that Dean really didn't want anything to do with him.

"Dost ye-"

"I fear thee mistake me. I want nothing to do with an artless noble; I'll have no more of your insufferable ignorance. Go to! I pray thee find your destination well. You grow old." Dean snapped, increasing his speed. He had no business with clueless nobles who had nothing better to do with their time.

"Stay!" he called, having his horse quicken to a gallop so he might catch up. "I apologize if hath offended you. I fear my people skills are not as sharp as most."

"Dost logic escape thee? I hath no more time to play games with thee! You tottering slow-brained fellow. Go to, before I should loose what little calm I hath left." Dean snapped.

"Wherefore? What hath I done?" he asked slowly. Dean silently regretted helping this man who didn't seem to understand that Dean had no interest in speaking to him.

He branched off the road, as he began to cross the moors towards Bobby's house. Dean hoped that since he was no longer heading to the village the man would leave him alone. It wasn't as if he hated the man, there was just something about him that made him irritating. Something that Dean couldn't quite put his finger on- perhaps it was his ignorance. This guy didn't seem to have any idea how the real world worked, Dean could tell just by the way that he spoke.

The young man seemed like someone who was going to be killed early, in fact it may be some kind of miracle he hadn't been killed already. He was glad to be rid of him, however, just as before he had thought too soon.

He heard the sound of galloping footsteps behind him, Dean started to turn around to look. Although it was rather useless since it was so dark that he couldn't really see what the guy was doing anyway. Before he could register what was going on, he was swept up onto the back of the horse which was rising off the ground.

Dean was stuck in between the rider and the horses head. He was facing the horse's head, as it rose higher into the sky. The fact that he was flying filled him with an indescribable anxiety. He had absolutely no control over what this horse was going to do, he could fall and that would be the end of him. Dean reached forward, gripping the horses mane, his knuckles turning white. "Are you ill in the head?!" he screeched.

"You should stop being so rude to strangers." he replied causally.

"Prithee, put me down." Dean whimpered, trying not to look down at the ground below.

The young man flew down until they were only a few feet above the ground. They glided across the moors, then they touched down just outside of Bobby's house. "Castiel." he said aloud.

"What?" Dean asked.

"My name is Castiel." he repeated, allowing Dean to climb off his horse.

"D-d-dean..." he replied rattled.

"Dean!" a voice rang, it was Sam. He came sprinting out of the house, "Where hath you... been...?"

Sam stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Castiel sitting on a pegasus with extended wings. Dean turned slowly, looking at Sam who gave him a worried gaze. Castiel shifted, hopping off of the horse and pulling the tan cloth over the horse's wings again. "Hello." Castiel said softly.

"Who?" Sam asked.

"I'll explain in a moment." Dean replied, "Go inside."

Castiel waited until Sam was inside. "Now, where is the inn again?"

Dah duh! So fan fiction was kind of a butt with this story. It accidentally deleted this story, so I only had the first two pages (which I had saved in my documents). I was mad. Very mad. So the past few days I've been passing back and forth between writing this and writing the next chapter for 'Silhouette'.

So I'm gonna start off by saying that writing insults in Elizabethan speak is so much fun. I mean, oh my god. It is just so much fun. Chapters for this story will probably come out slower due to the dialogue though. Elizabethan speak is hard to write since no one really talks like that anymore. One thing that is important to note is the differences between the way that Castiel talks and the way Dean talks. Dean talks informally, meaning that he talks as if he is insulting someone, or talking to someone who is close. While Castiel's uses formal terms meaning that he always talks as if he is speaking to a superior.

Just a little fun fact.

Castiel, the mysterious nobleman and Dean the infamous Robin hood.

So let me know what you think in the reviews!

Rate, Review, Favorite! It means so much!