Title: Keep Me In the Light, and I'll Save You From the Dark
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: attempted rape/non-con (not Dean/Castiel), kidnapping, mention of minor cannon character deaths, nyctophobia, control!kink, virgin!Dean, creature!Dean, protective!Castiel
Summary: Luministia are people of light and happiness. There was a time when they were revered and respected, when they guided humanity in the darkness, and were said to have been descended from Angels. Now, they are hunted and killed for their powers. Dean has been on the run most of his life, living in fear that he would be discovered and taken. Until a blue-eyed stranger did just that.
Alternative summary: Dean has powers and it's really rare and he glows when he's happy, and Castiel likes to make him glow.
Author's Notes: I don't even know where this came from, one night I was just like, "Dean is so pretty, it's like he glows when he smiles." Then this happened. I will give warnings before each chapter if it contains trigger content.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nor do I make any profits from this story. I hope you guys like it. I apologize for any grammatical issues and misspellings, this is unbeta'd.
Chapter Warnings: mentions of minor cannon character death, angst, and Dean runs for his life. Castiel doesn't come in until the very end of the chapter. My apologies.
Mary closed her eyes and tried to get her breathing under control. Minutes passing felt like hours after they took him away, until finally, the smiling doctor gently handed her a wrapped bundle and time seemed to stop altogether. The sight of her son in her arms immediately eclipsed the remnants of the pain from his birth.
It took some time, but the baby eventually stopped his crying and drifted off to sleep, exhausted from coming into the world. Above his restful state, his proud parents gazed at him with sheer joy. They pointed out features, played the "he has your nose" game, talked about all the things they were going to do as a family, and finally gave him his name- Dean Winchester. He was perfect.
And then he woke up.
Dean opened his eyes slowly, and they immediately fell on Mary's. Her sudden gasp caught John's attention, and he stood up from his chair beside her bed to look at what had warranted Mary's shock, before mirroring it himself.
Dean had green eyes. That in and of itself was not unusual, plenty of people in his family had green eyes, but Dean's were unnaturally bright, almost reflective. John glanced at Mary and saw her staring fearfully back at him. Before John had a chance to calm her that it might be nothing, their fears were confirmed when Dean smiled at them.
The effect started at his eyes, and spread over his face like a blush. A soft glow covered all of his exposed skin until they were sure they would be able to see him in the dark. He continued to smile up at them, happy as a new born could be, while his parents gazed back with dread and fear- not of him, but for him.
Mary covered Dean with his blanket, shielding him from potentially avaricious eyes while John made arrangements to have them checked out early.
Dean shut the door of his car, and started his trek down the street, the envelope of large bills tucked safely in his jacket pocket. Even in the dark of the late hour, he could still make out the familiar houses as he passed them. A couple of blocks later, he stopped outside of a humble white suburban house, gazing through the window from across the street at the young man sitting on a couch and talking on a phone.
It had been almost eight months since Dean had last seen Sam in November, but it might as well have been six years, given how much he missed him. As much as it pained him to distance himself from his family, he knew it was a necessary precaution. Just seeing Sam, even from this distance, nearly made his skin prickle, but it had been a long time since he lost control like that.
As glad as he was to see his little brother, safe and secure in their home, all he had to do was remember- what he was, how he was a danger to his family, that he had been reduced to gazing longingly at his own home without being able to enter it- and the feeling of joy immediately receded. Sam was better off as far away from him as possible. It was enough to take the happiness out of anyone's eyes.
The drop off had to be timed just right; he couldn't risk Sam hearing his footsteps come up the path, or seeing him through the window. It would have been easier to just put the envelope in the mailbox, but he couldn't run the risk of a postal worker finding it before a Winchester did.
When Sam got up and left the living room, and the bathroom light clicked on, Dean seized his chance. His father's large black truck was parked in the driveway, but the darkness upstairs told Dean that John must be sleeping. He moved as fast as he could without making too much noise, wedged the envelope in the door frame, and knocked on the door just loudly enough that he knew Sam would hear it.
He was sprinting through their neighbor's backyard before Sam left the bathroom.
This had been his routine once every other month, always on random days so his family wouldn't be able to put together a pattern for when to expect him. They couldn't know he was coming, and Dean couldn't risk them getting caught being in contact with him.
He was panting by the time he climbed into his beloved Chevy Impala and left the familiar houses behind him. He wished he could have parked closer; running around in people's backyards at night was a little creepy, but his family was sure to identify the distinct sound of his car, and would have known he was there.
As street lights flickered past, and he searched around for a motel to crash in for a few hours, he thought back to the envelope. Just a scrap piece of paper with a scribbled "I'm fine. -D.W." amongst all of the money Dean could spare crammed inside a small white rectangle once every month or two- that was the extent of his communication with his family. It made the isolation tolerable, knowing that he could at least provide his family small amounts of money to make up for his absence.
A few hours later, Dean pulled into a run-down motel once there was a comfortable number of miles between himself and Lawrence. The curtains drawn shut, he laid back on the bed, fast food wrappers spread out next to him and a beer from the gas station in his hand. He focused all of his attention onto the Star Trek marathon, and let his misery fall into the background. He was just about to start his next beer when there was a knock on the door.
Dean jerked his head at the sudden noise, casting a wary eye upon the entrance to the room, face filled with apprehension as he immediately started drawing up every worse case scenario his mind could think of.
He was followed. Someone must have been watching their house. How sure was he that he hadn't slipped? He was happy to see Sam, and even the tiniest glimmer of his eyes could have been seen in the dark. Was there an ambush waiting for him on the other side of the door? A group of people that coveted his powers, or just one person? It could be the government, black suits and black cars wanting to take him away for "observation," which Dean knew was their was of saying experimentation.
He crept towards the door, pressing the barrel of his gun against the back of it, and glanced through the peephole.
It was Sam.
His sigh carried his relief and exasperation, and he smiled despite himself. Because it was Sammy. His skin started it's pleasant tingling sensation as he unlocked the door, stepping behind it as it opened so he would be hidden from view until it shut again.
And there he was- tall and lanky and taking up too much room, shaggy head of hair, worn-down plaid shirt, and just there. Dean couldn't stop the smile forming on his face if he had it in him to try. One of them took a large step forward- Dean couldn't tell who- and then they were hugging, one of those full-body, it's-been-too-long hugs.
When they broke apart, Dean could see his glow casting light on Sam, and reflecting in his eyes.
"Glad to see you too, Dean," Sam smirked at him.
"Haha, yeah," Dean looked away. The rush of emotions was mixing with his beers and making him slightly disoriented. "Hey, give me a sec, would you? I'm just gonna splash some water on my face." He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and trying to compose himself.
Turning the tap on, he drenched his hands under the stream before running them over his face, trying to get his bearings straight. It had been a long time since he let go like this. He put off looking in the mirror for as long as he could, but caught sight of his arm as he reached for a towel.
It wasn't the brightest he had ever been, as this wasn't the happiest he had ever felt, but there was a soft glow to his skin. A few freckles stood out a little brighter than the rest of his complexion, shimmery dots trailing up his arms and over his body.
His gaze followed them in the mirror until he landed on his face. Dean had always thought himself to be an attractive man by average standards, but that wasn't the reason he stared mesmerized at his own reflection. His face was emitting a soft light, not a full-on glow, but enough that it was noticeable. His freckles here stood out the most, some shining brighter than his skin, some remaining dark and adding contrast. His dry lips looked wet, and when he pressed them together, he could feel their warmth. Slowly, very slowly, he met his eyes in the mirror.
A thin solid circle around his pupils shined like reflectors, bright and alluring. And around that- green. Every shade of it that you could think of glimmered in his irises; dark specks, bright patterns, all of it shimmering like the sun's reflection off of water. It was beautiful, even he couldn't help but think so.
And Dean hated it- hated what it meant, what it marked him as.
With a sigh, he dried his face, and pulled away from his reflection back to the room where Sam was waiting.
There was a heavy moment between them, the kind where they could both sense an argument coming before the words were even said, but they drew it out, putting it off as long as they could, until Dean broke the silence.
"So how'd you find me, anyway?"
"Hate to break it to you, Dean, but your car's not exactly inconspicuous," Sam said with a smirk. "And it's not like you'd be in a penthouse suite." He briefly looked down, his jaw set, and Dean knew that face- it meant his brother was preparing his argument. Dean knew the points his bother was going to make before they were even said. "Listen, Dean-"
"No, Sam," Dean interrupted. "We are not going to have this talk. It was good to see you, but we both know-"
"Know what?" Sam snapped, looking back at Dean with defiance. "That running off without a word was the only option? That going radio silent for months at a time was your best choice? That-"
"That it was the only way to keep you guys safe. You know that, Sam, you know the people who are after me. The more miles I put between us, the safer you are, end of discussion." Dean gritted out. He didn't understand why Sam didn't get it. Didn't he see the danger he was in just by being in the same room as Dean?
"Look," Sam's voice went forcibly calm, trying to get Dean to see reason. "I know you have this bizarre notion which makes you think that by keeping your distance, you're protecting us-" Dean snorted. "-but it can't keep going on like this. I can't keep going on like this."
Dean frowned at Sam, a small crease of confusion resting between his eyebrows.
"You don't know, Dean," Sam sighed. "You don't know what it's been like. I mean, you just up and left out of no where, no warning, no goodbye-"
"I left a note," Dean reasoned halfheartedly, a look of guilt on his dimming face.
"Yeah," Sam huffed an unamused laugh. "A note. Hell of a thing to come home to, don't you think? One sentence, just 'I'm sorry, but I have to do this. Take care of Dad.' Twelve words. And that was it. And then nothing, not for months. Not until an envelope appears on our doorstep, with an even smaller note, some crumpled up cash, and what, you think that's enough?"
"I'm making as much money as I can-"
"Money?" Sam nearly shouted. He took a deep breath, the color in his face lightening as he tried to calm himself down, and Dean had a fleeting moment to appreciate the nostalgia of their childhood arguments. "I don't care about the money, Dean. I care about you. I can't keep going on like this, not knowing if you're okay, if something has happened to you, waiting to see if someone found you..." Sam trailed off, and Dean saw the wary look in his eyes when Sam looked down. He looked tired, worried, even scared. For Dean. Because of Dean.
"You think I want this?" Dean grit through his teeth, frustration just barely masking his guilt. "You think this is easy for me? To have left without a word to you, to have to be on the run all the time, to know that you are better off without me?"
Sam took a deep breath. "I understand you think you're protecting me. No, really, I do," Sam insisted when Dean made to interrupt. "But why does that mean you can't call me? Every once in a while, from different payphones, or a prepaid phone? Doesn't have to be everyday, just enough so that- so that I know you're okay?"
Dean held his little brother's gaze for a moment before ducking his head. He could feel his glow dimming, but still remaining stubbornly present, his frustration at the situation not being enough to abate his joy at seeing Sammy.
Try as he might, his resolve was breaking- he was going to lose this fight. Though, he reasoned, Sam had a good point. It would be risky, and they would have to take precaution, but he couldn't deny the fact that getting to talk to Sam directly and more often was something he wanted, and maybe he didn't want to put up too big of a fight against it. When he looked up again, he could see Sam at the ready with another argument should Dean continue to debate him. The thought make him glow just a touch brighter.
"You're gonna make one hell of a lawyer someday," Dean smirked at him.
Their night became easier after that. Sam stayed for another hour, reasoning with a reluctant Dean that if anyone had followed either of them, they would have known about it by now. They talked, Sam about school, Dean about what he's been up to- mostly his odd jobs, all without too much detail. Dean promised to buy a burner cell phone, and would call Sam within the week. All too soon, Sam was walking to the door.
"And remember-" Dean started.
"Don't take a joint from a guy named Don, yeah, I know," Sam mused, rolling his eyes with a laugh.
With a nod and a last lingering look at each other, their goodbyes stuck in their throat, Sam opened the door, and Dean hid behind it to block him from view from the world outside. He watched through the peephole as his kid brother got into their dad's truck and drove away.
Dean got ready for bed with optimistic thoughts in his head; he was going to keep in touch with Sam, know that he was ok, or if he needed help. He would get to hear about how he was doing, talk to him about his day, hear him complain about school, laugh about the girls he liked. Just like it used to be.
He may not be home, but at least he could have some shelter.
His skin was humming with light when he pulled the covers over himself, and for the first time in memory, he didn't try to stop it.
There was once a time when Luministia were revered and respected by all of humanity. Before electricity, back when the only means of having vision after the sun went down was fire and variations of moonlight, people relied on the kindness of Luministia to guide them in the dark, to provide protection when they were at their most vulnerable.
There was a time when they were loved, worshiped even. Myths claimed them to to have been descended from Angels, sent from Heaven to keep mankind safe. Powerful and mystical, they were light manifested in a human being, celestial creatures walking among them.
Dean had laughed the first time he read the Wikipedia page on Luministia. "Angels on earth," "Celestial beings," yeah fucking right. If he were "descended from Heaven," why did he have to fight so damn hard not to be killed off? Surely an Angel, he mocked, would be better at protecting themselves.
It was true he had come physical assets that accompanied his condition, some benefits that others might interpret as powers. For starters, he had a very strong immune system. That would sound pretty normal for your average healthy person and not altogether impressive before learning that Luministia were automatically immune to all viruses, bacterial infections, and general illnesses known to man. Their blood had many medicinal properties, and could even be used to treat and cure some diseases. Dean himself had never so much as had a runny nose.
His skin was useful for more than just looking pretty in the dark; it was resistant to direct burns, as well as extreme temperatures. He could stay in freezing water all day, and he wouldn't so much as shiver. Luministia also had perfect vision, and could even see in the dark, whether or not they were glowing. Their muscles could endure more pressure than the average man, making them abnormally strong for their size, and though there was no living example, it was rumored they aged slower, and had the potential to reach the age of 150.
And it was because of these "powers" that Luministia had gone from Heavenly protectors to prized game. They used to be great in number, with one Luministia watching over fifty humans, but they had been driven to near extinction, and were extremely rare, with less than a hundred registered born each year. Then again, there could be more out there- Dean himself was unregistered, as his mother had taken him home from the hospital before he could be discovered by a doctor.
Lucky thing, too. It was one of those things everyone knew about, but no one brought up. Like how those who preached immigration reform paid illegal aliens to mow their lawn and so forth. If a Luministia is documented at birth, that child is taken away from the birth parents, and placed into a government research program. From there, they grow up being lab rats. How else could they have proven that Luministia were immune to every known ailment if they weren't experimented on?
Dean might have escaped being a guinea pig, but he was far from safe. Given that a pint of his blood currently went for five thousand dollars on the black market, he would never be safe out in the open, should anyone discover what he was.
But there were worse fates for Luministia than just having some blood taken.
Dean wanted to curse whoever discovered it, the transitive properties of his abilities. He didn't understand the science of it, but he knew, thanks to the freaks on the internet, the mechanics of it. It all had to do with virginity.
Luministia were supposed to be pure beings of light and happiness, and somehow, if you made one glow and took their virginity, it granted you worthy of their powers. It reminded him of those old movies with psychics or fortunetellers, how they lost their gifts after they laid with a man. It wouldn't the same for him, as Luministia didn't lose their powers after sex, they only shared them. All it meant to Dean, however, was that dating was off the table.
Not that he could ever just date someone, anyway. Being in a relationship implied some amount of happiness, and happiness meant exposure. No, he was far safer keeping his distance. He was safer being alone, he told himself, and he tried not to dwell on the thought of living to 150 and still being lonely.
It was hot, even for Kansas in the summer.
After some debate, he had decided not to go too far from home after his little meeting with Sam. There were risks, sure, but if someone had followed him, if he had led a potential threat to his family's doorstep, he wanted to be close enough to be able to do something about it.
Besides, there were plenty of odd jobs right here in his home state. Today, it was assisting a couple of girls move some heavy furniture and boxes into their new apartment. It was a nice little place, one that spoke of being spoiled and rich.
The girls, likely in their mid-twenties, watched him as he went from room to room, advising him on what went where. They giggled when he would wink at them. Easy money.
It should have raised someone's interest that he was doing so much work in ninety degree weather, and wasn't breaking a sweat or showing signs on needing to slow down, but his temporary employers were too busy checking out his ass when he walked away to pay the oddity any notice. It was fortunate for Dean, as he usually had to put on a front, pretend he was getting worn down and needed a break to avoid suspicion. He just wanted to get done as fast as possible and get his money so he could go back to the motel and call Sam.
The weekly phone calls were becoming the highlight of his life, which might be just the tiniest bit depressing, but Dean couldn't care; he got so happy hearing his brother on the other line, he had taken to grabbing a pillow, and making himself comfortable in the bathtub, curtain drawn and bathroom door closed to assure no one could see his glow from outside his motel room.
About two hours and some easy flirting later, Dean had earned his two hundred dollars in cash. As expected, the girls had wanted him to stay "for drinks." They were attractive and young, and he would have accepted in a heartbeat were he literally anyone else, but as he was stuck being Dean Winchester, he had to decline. They had countered his rejection by taking off their clothes and saying they were going to go try out their new jacuzzi, and he was welcome to join in if he changed his mind.
He hightailed it out of there as fast as he could, before they could add to the deal.
An hour later, after he had returned to the motel with a six pack and settled himself on the cold floor of the bathtub, he fished his phone out of his jeans pocket, and dialed the only number he had memorized.
"Hey, Dean," Sam picked up on the second ring, and at the sound of his voice, Dean felt his face start to prickle. "Been waiting for you to call."
They kept to the usual topics- Dean's jobs, and Sam's summer vacation. He could tell by the way he talked about his school that he was itching to head back to Stanford. Dean had been to California a few times, but never in that area. He fantasized what it might be like to visit Sam there, even if he knew he never would.
"Well?" Sam asked, and Dean knew he had missed something, too distracted by his bright fingertips as he played with a loose string on his shirt.
"Sorry, say that again."
Ignoring the sigh on the other line, Dean listened to his brother's question.
"I said Dad wants to see you," Sam repeated. "Just a small visit. He misses you, Dean."
"What did you tell him?" Dean immediately asked. He should have known Sam wouldn't have kept their talks to himself.
"Nothing big," Sam assured him. "Just that you were safe, and I had seen you."
Dean wanted to be frustrated at his brother for telling their Dad even that much, but he couldn't be. He knew how much John must worry about him, especially after what happened to their Mom, how Dean had just left... Sam visited when he could, but he would be going back to college soon, and his Dad would be on his own again. The guilt ate up at him from the inside. He couldn't help but blame himself for John being all alone.
"Are you sure he wants to see me?" Dean muttered after a short pause trying to sound indifferent, but it came out with his insecurity.
"Of course he does," Sam replied. "Dean, you know he doesn't blame you, right? He knows it wasn't your fault."
"Yeah," Dean said, wanting to drop the topic. "Yeah, alright. Look, I'll think about it, okay?"
That was enough for Sam. After a bit more conversation, mostly to put that last topic behind them, Sam said he was heading out soon, and Dean said he needed to shower.
When he got out of the tub, he paused in front of the mirror; he hadn't even realized he had stopped glowing. With a frown, he turned from his reflection and stripped off his shirt, hoping a shower would help clear his head and ease some of the guilt knotting in his stomach.
Something kept coming up. That was his excuse not to head down to Lawrence every time Sam checked in with him. They both knew it was not accidental; Dean would take up any last minute job if it meant he could delay seeing John.
It wasn't that he didn't want to see him; Dean missed his father almost as much as he had missed Sam before the phone calls. He wanted to see john, wanted to talk to him, to hear what was going on with him, but he couldn't ignore the stigma between them. Just as he knew his dad missed him, Dean could also sense the impending argument.
Because Dean hadn't just walked out on Sam, after all. And then there was the not-so-little ball of guilt in his stomach every time he thought about home, about his mother. John didn't have to blame him, Dean put plenty of blame on himself for the both of them.
Mary Winchester was the epitome of what a mother was supposed to be; caring and protective, beautiful and smart. She never never let a night pass without a bedtime story, and always baked homemade pie on the weekend, with Dean there to help stir and maybe sneak some filling when her back was turned. Not that it was ever necessary, as she always let him lick the spoon after.
Dean had loved her. As it wasn't safe for him to go to public school, she had quit her job and home-schooled him. It was harder for Dean to control his emotions back then, but with warm apple pie in his stomach, and his mother's praise always on hand, he had never felt the need to suppress his glow. And his mother always smiled so brightly at him when she saw how happy he was.
Perhaps if he was more careful, she would still be here. But she wasn't, and now there were no more homemade pies, no more bright smiles, no more thinking that it was safe to to happy.
Almost a month after their talk, Dean finally conceded to heading to Lawrence. Even he knew he had been putting it off too long, and couldn't bear to have another talk with Sam where he explained the excuse-of-the-week, and listened to his brother's disappointed sigh on the other end. It was time to bite the bullet. He hopped in his Impala, and pulled onto the highway, and if he decided to go the speed limit on the way, it was just because he wanted to be a safe driver.
They had agreed on meeting at the old cabin near the lake where they used to go fishing. It was a good spot because they owned it, making the area private land. It was also secluded, and surrounded by trees, and therefore safe for Dean to run around and be a kid with no reservations. They were so happy then, and he had loved it here.
But now, when he pulled up to the desolate wooden house, he felt nothing but resentment for it. It was nothing but a painful reminder of the life he used to have, but could never have again. He had once felt safe here, had let himself think that he was untouchable. That confidence had led to his mother's death, and he blamed safe havens like this for letting him believe that.
John's black truck was already there, and he saw the curtain at the front window get pushed aside. The nerves started to kick in as he got out of his Impala, and walk heavily towards the door. He stood there for a brief second, debating whether or not to knock, before the decision was rendered moot, and it was opened wide.
Right there in front of him, tall and intimidating, stood his father; he looked exactly as he remembered, except maybe with some more scruff than he was used to. They stayed like that for a moment, quiet and assessing. Dean didn't know what to do, what to say, or even if he should do or say anything.
Then, without warning, John reached forward and pulled Dean in for a full body hug. He didn't know how to react for a moment- even back before Mary's death, John had never been the emotional type- but everything was different now. They had lost his mother. Dean had run away, taking the blame with him. If there was ever a time for a father-son moment, this was it, and Dean hugged him back.
When they broke apart, Dean could see his father was trying- and failing- to put on a poker face, to hide what seeing Dean meant to him, and that more than the hug was what triggered it. The prickling sensation warmed his face, and before he could try and shut it down, John pulled him inside the cabin, away from the potential dangers of passing hunters or hikers.
Sam was standing in the living room, and gave Dean a short one-armed hug when he walked in, patting him on the back. Dean could tell how glad he was that he was here, that they were finally all together.
After a small awkward moment where they all stood in the living room and tried not to stare at each other, John broke the tension by offering Dean a beer, and he gladly accepted before sitting down. Thinking quickly, before they had time to lapse into another weird silence, Sam launched into a conversation about his plans for college next year, and Dean and John listened politely and gave their opinions and laughed at his jokes and it was so easy and normal, Dean almost forgot all of his anxiety about why he didn't want to come in the first place.
They talked for some time, Sam about his life in California, and John about his work. Then it was Dean's turn, and the nerves kicked up a few notches.
"I've been, uh," he started uncertainly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Just traveling, I guess. Try not to stay in the same place too long, you know?"
Silence followed his statement, and he took another swig of beer to have something to do.
"You didn't have to leave," John said, his voice quiet but firm.
And there it was, the conversation he didn't want to have.
"Yes," Dean said right back. "I did."
"You should have talked to us, Dean, that wasn't just your choice to make."
Dean did not back down from his father's gaze. He knew without a shadow of doubt that he made the right call in leaving. Did he wish there was any other option? Of course, but when it came to his family's safety, there wasn't. It had already been proven that being around Dean was dangerous, even fatal, and he had to put them above his own selfish wants.
"You know why I have to stay away, Dad-"
"No, I really don't," John said, and there was another pause. "It wasn't your fault, Dean-"
"Don't." Dean snapped. "Don't you sit there and tell me that it was some accident, some chance-"
"We're not saying that," Sam chimed in. "In wasn't an accident, but it wasn't your fault either. She was protecting you-"
"Exactly!" Dean fought to keep from yelling. "She was protecting me, they weren't after her. If it weren't for me, she'd still be alive. Mom would still be alive, and that's on me."
There was a short pause before John spoke up again.
"Mary wouldn't have wanted this for you."
The glass bottle of beer made a sharp sound when Dean put it on the coffee table perhaps a little harder than he had meant to, and he got up to leave the living room. This had been a mistake, he had known it, he never should have come here. He vaguely heard some protest from Sam, but it had stopped abruptly when John said to let him go.
He stormed outside before he realized he had left his jacket on the couch, and thus his phone and keys as well. Not ready to go back inside, he picked a direction at random and trekked off into the woods.
In was close to sunset, the trees making it even darker, but that had never been an obstacle for Dean. His eyes adjusted perfectly to the shadows of the woods. Time passed with no meaning as he pushed the argument into the back of his mind, making himself numb to it. Eventually he reached a clearing as the lake came into view, meaning he had just walked about three miles, taking the long way from the road.
Just ten feet away was where Mom had taught him and Sam how to skip stones, while Dad fished for their dinner.
Like a levee breaking, Dean's knees buckled under him and he collapsed to the ground and sobbed. It was his fault. Nothing anyone would ever say could change the facts. When Mary had died, Dean felt like he was broken; the weight of everything had hit him so hard, he couldn't cry or mourn her, all he could think about was getting as far away from Sam and Dad as he could. Maybe if he had done that sooner... but it was too late for her, and he could still protect the rest of his family.
He gripped his hair and tried to hold himself together, cause it felt like he was coming apart. His breaths were sharp and ragged, and his chest was on fire and he couldn't breathe. Everything they had told him in the cabin rang loudly in his head as his grief ripped through him. He had had the most amazing person in his life- a mother who loved and protected him, and it was his fault she was gone, not just from his life, but from Sam's, from John's... His father now had to live out the rest of his days without the love of his life, all because Dean had been reckless and selfish.
Some Angel he was.
Just as the thought manifested, he felt a sharp and sudden pain in his thigh, and he cried out in agony. When he looked down, he saw a dart sticking out of his leg, and he yanked it out, staring at it in confusion. Before he could register what was going on, he heard movement from somewhere to his left, and he turned towards it; with his enhanced vision, he saw a man standing behind some trees just outside of the clearing. The stranger raised his gun again, aiming it right at Dean.
With a jolt, he sprang to his feet and bolted into the woods.
He got about fifty yards before whatever he was shot with started to take effect- it didn't make his dizzy or tired; no, it was much, much worse. Dread coursed through him like cold water as he felt his face start to prickle.
No. No, there was no way he could be glowing right now- there wasn't a trace of happiness in his entire being. What the hell did that guy dose him with? How did he know what Dean was? Either way, whatever he was hit with had forced him into a glow. Right here, in the middle of the secluded woods. Miles away from the safety of the cabin.
The realization struck him like a blow to the stomach, and he ran even faster. Because he wasn't just being chased- he was being hunted. This man knew he was Luministia, and if he was forcing Dean into a glow, that could only mean one thing.
It was a not-so-small blessing that was so fast, maybe even fast enough to get to the cabin, and jump in the Impala before this freak caught up to him. The drug was spreading quickly, and Dean could feel his skin buzzing with light. He hadn't shined this hard in years, and he knew he must look like a beacon in the dark of the woods. There would be no hiding, no concealing himself behind a tree or in a bush. There was no other option for him than to run, run as fast as he could, put as much distance between him and anyone out here that could-
The impact had knocked the wind out of him, and he fell hard onto his back. In his frantic fleeing, it was all he could do not to trip on a root, but the tree seemed to have just come out of no where. It took him longer than it should have to realize that what he had hit was much softer than a tree, and he sat bolt upright when he heard a low, pained groan.
His glow cast the man into a shifty, silvery light, and he watched in horror as the stranger sat up at looked at him with wide eyes and an audible gasp. He was dressed in a tan overcoat and dress shoes- definitely not a hiker- but what Dean really took in about his appearance was his eyes, so bright and blue. They just stared at each other, stupefied by the sudden collision, until Dean could hear running in the distance, and with a jolt, he snapped back to his senses.
With a quick motion, he jumped up and ran past the man on the dirt ground.
"Wait!" the stranger called out, and Dean wanted to jeer at him- as if he would just stop and let himself be violated because someone had asked him to stop running.
The forest floor flew under his feet as he passed over miles of hiking trails. His chest was tight with the need to catch his breath, and his legs were cramping from exertion, but he refused to slow down. The prospect that he might now have two men chasing him while he was glowing made him continue throwing one foot in front of the other until he could see the light from the cabin up ahead.
He threw the heavy wooden door open when he reached it, and collapsed once he was safely inside. Sam was at his side in an instant, and Dean tried to explain through his huffs of breath.
There was a hunter. He was coming. They had to book it, like, right the fuck now.
Sam had half-carried, half-dragged a fully glowing Dean to the Impala, grabbing the keys from Dean's jacket pocket and driving his brother out of the woods, John following close behind him in his truck.
His last thoughts before passing out were those of startled blue eyes, and the feeling that the hunter had, for some reason, stopped following him.
The wake of Dean's near attack had left the Winchesters exhausted and scared.
Hours after fleeing the cabin, Dean woke up on a lumpy motel bed, sore and achy. The brightness behind the drawn curtain told him it was early morning, and when he tried to sit up, his muscles protested. He must have made some sort of sound, because Sam sat up from the bed next to him and went to his side.
Sam handed him a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water, explaining that they were about fifty miles outside Lawrence, and John had gone out for breakfast.
"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.
There was a sharp pain radiating from him thigh, and it took him a moment to remember the dart that had hit him, and the drug that had forced him to glow. He looked down at his hands, and was surprised to see his was still emitting a bit of faint light.
"Peachy," Dean replied.
A long awkward silence fell between the brothers, their last conversation hanging over them like a dense cloud. Before one of them could break it, though, the motel room door opened, and John walked through it with paper bags filled with cheap fast food. He glanced at Dean before he sat down in the chair next to his bed and started passing out the breakfast sandwiches.
His father and Sam both looked worse for the wear, their eyes bloodshot, and their movements sluggish; they must have stayed up all night watching him.
When the food was consumed, and the wrappers littered the bed, Dean began explaining what had happened after he left the cabin before someone could ask. He left out the parts where he remembered their life at the lake and broke down, and skipped right to the hunter, the dart, the chase. There was a brief pause where he considered telling them about the blue eyed man, but decided against it; he didn't see him as a threat.
After Dean's story, Sam filled him in on their end; they hightailed it out of there, and basically kept driving until they were out of gas. When they got to the motel, they had to wrap Dean in a blanket, because they couldn't stop his glowing. Dean had an amusing moment as he imagined what that scene must have looked like, them dragging in a wrapped body-shaped figure into a motel at night. They were lucky there were no passersby.
Silence followed Sam's story, before John cleared his throat. For a second, Dean feared he was going to try and continue yesterday's talk, and in a way, he did.
"Look's like I was wrong," John said solemnly, as the brothers stared at him. "I had thought you being on your own, going from place to place without help was dangerous. I thought you'd be safer here at home, but I was wrong."
The realization of what he was saying dawned on Dean, and he protested.
"Dad, no," Dean started. "This wasn't your fault- those freaks would have found me anywhere-"
"Except they didn't find you anywhere, they found you here, with us," John interrupted angrily. "The cabin was supposed to be safe, but you were there for all of an hour before someone made you." There was a heavy pause before John continued. "I want you to be safe, Dean. I thought- I had hoped- here with us was best for you, but now I'm starting to think you were better off on your own."
Dean could only look at him for a moment. He couldn't deny what John was saying; it was true that it was both easier and safer for everyone with Dean keeping his distance. It wasn't that he wanted to leave- more than anything, he wished he could stay- but John was right, it wasn't safe, not for them and not for Dean. He had to keep moving, he had to go where he wouldn't see someone he loved and accidentally trigger a glow. He was sure that was what had caused the trouble- when Dean saw John at the cabin, he had slipped. The hunter must have been near by, and saw him.
Thankfully, Sam changed the subject to something he had seen on TV, and they talked and joked, and for a moment, they could pretend that this wasn't the last they'd see of each other for a while.
They stayed as long as it took for Dean's glow to fully extinguish. There were hugs and promises to call and check in with them, and John made Dean swear to save up his own damn money, he needed more than they did. With a wave from the Impala, Dean pulled out of the motel parking lot, and drove out of Kansas.
He couldn't believe his luck.
His car had gotten a flat, and caused him to have to trek down a small dirt road off the highway. As if he weren't already having a bad day, let's add the dangers of walking off alone in the middle of no where. Each step was uncomfortable, his dress shoes simply not made for this kind of terrain, but he had no choice; it was either walk to where he had some reception on his cell phone, or be a sitting duck.
He had made it about half a mile when he heard it- a sharp cry of pain off in the distance. Someone was injured, and without thinking, he ran straight into the think of the woods towards it. Stumbling and tripping on roots, he had barely managed to get a decent pace in the dark; he couldn't see the trees until they were right in front of him, only visible by the traces of moonlight from overhead. He could hardly tell what direction he was going in anymore; maybe he should call out to the injured person, see if they were near by and-
The collision had caught him off guard, as he passed a tree and crashed right into a very hard figure. Whatever it was was very tall and had been moving fast, and the impact had knocked him backwards.
With a grunt of pain, Castiel looked to see what had hit him. He heard himself gasp, and his eyes went wide as he took in the man sprawled out on the ground opposite him. Logically, he knew what he was looking at, but his brain just couldn't wrap around it- a Luministia, here in the woods, glowing brighter than the full moon above them, and looking like he had just popped out of a myth.
His eyes gazed reverently as he took in the Luministia's face- he, too, was staring with wide eyes, though where as Castiel's were filled will awe and wonder, his were filled with fear. Just then, Castiel could make out the sound of distant foot steps rushing this way, and the beautiful man jumped up and bolted past him.
"Wait!" he yelled at the retreating light. He knew it was hopeless, knew the Luministia would not stop, but he couldn't keep himself from calling out to him. Within seconds, the bright figure was gone, casting the area around him back into the dark of the night.
Thinking quickly, he came to his senses and hid himself behind a tree, listening for the footsteps that had scared off the Luministia. Less than a minute later, another man trundled up the path, following the direction of the fleeing man. With quick movements, Castiel grabbed him by the shoulder, and knocked him to the ground, ripping his gun from him, and knocking him unconscious with it.
It didn't take a lot of guess work to make out that he was a hunter. The worse kind humanity had to offer. A rage built inside of him as he looked down at the inert man; he wanted to kill him, but he knew he couldn't, knew he didn't have it in him to end the life of a (currently) defenseless man. Instead, he stripped him of his weapons, and left him there, returning to the dirt road in time to see a black truck speeding away in the distance.
Castiel continued down the dirt road for another mile, until his phone beeped with a signal, and he called a tow truck.
As his car was repaired, all he could think about was the bright and beautiful creature from the woods. He hadn't seen a Luministia in years. Something dark twisted in his stomach at the idea that someone else had almost claimed him. No, it couldn't be like that- Castiel wouldn't let it. He was going to find that Luministia himself. He was going to take him back with him.
He smiled at the thought of it as he paid the repair man, and got into his car. When he pulled onto the highway, following the direction of the black truck, he thought about the odds.
He couldn't believe his luck.