A/N: This fic is inspired by the movie On Drakon, but while a few details will be similar, there are also many that are going to diverge significantly from the film (which I totally recommend watching!).

Disclaimer: Supernatural and On Drakon aren't mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!

Part I

Meg struggled against the ropes lashing her to the mast of the small boat. Curses for having wandered into a town where there were hunters. And, okay, maybe she shouldn't have drawn attention to herself by killing that drunken lout behind the tavern, but he had tried to force himself on her. A girl had the right to defend herself.

A girl, not a demon, apparently.

Meg scowled at the villagers as they gathered around the shoreline to see her set ablaze. Holy oil had been poured into the bottom of the boat, and one of the hunters stood on the edge of the dock, idly rubbing a flint between his fingers. Hard, hazel-green eyes glared at her.

Meg lifted her chin. "Buy a girl a drink first, wouldn't you?"

The hunter smirked humorlessly, breath puffing out white in the chilled air. "I saw what happened to the last guy who bought you a drink. Sam," he called over his shoulder.

The other hunter, taller and with longer hair reaching his shoulders, pushed his way through the crowd, carrying a stick of wood with oil-soaked linen wrapped around one end, ready to be lit with fire. Behind him, low voices began to rise up in a haunting tune.

The first hunter quirked a brow at them. "What the hell are they doing?"

"The Ritual Song," Sam Winchester replied. Their reputation preceded them, and Meg unfortunately knew all about the brothers. It wasn't just any hunter who could snare her.

"Why?" Dean asked.

Sam glanced over at the villagers. "Uh, well, it's part of sending a maid out on the water as a sacrifice…"

"She's not a sacrifice," Dean said at the same time Meg retorted with,

"I'm not a maid."

Sam just shrugged. "It's tradition. The chieftain insisted."

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered, "It's a stupid song. And there aren't any dragons left anyway."

The baritone voices rose in cadence, and Dean planted his boot on the lip of the boat to shove it off. Meg struggled harder against her bindings, but she was over open water now, slowly drifting out. If she thrashed hard enough, she could probably tip the small craft, but then she'd just be stuck upside down breathing in freezing water. Also not an appealing option. Neither was burning at the stake, though.

Mist curled around the edges of the bay, frosted snow lining the embankments. On the dock, Dean Winchester struck the flint over the torch his brother held. Sparks landed on the linen and lit it up with a whoosh. Meg tensed.

And then a gust of frigid air burst through the harbor like a northeasterly howl. The torch was extinguished in one breath, and the mist around the bay retreated into crevices and crannies, out of sight. The air was suddenly crisp and clear, and silent as all voices ceased. Something creaked, perhaps a ship rocking against the ice. But then it became a roar descending from on high without warning.

Meg felt the hurricane gale and impact before she saw what it was. The boat jolted as something slammed against it, and then claws were wrapping around her torso and yanking her and the mast into the air. Wood cracked; the bottom of the boat snapped free to fall back into the water with a raucous splash. On land, people were running and screaming. Meg screamed as one of the talons cut through her dress to flesh.

Wind rushed up around her as they gained altitude quickly, freezing air suffocating her nose. Thwacks of giant wings beat the air, and Meg craned her neck back, barely able to get a glimpse of scales and brute, muscular legs before the beast was diving, and Meg was lost in a whirlwind of cloud and mist.

The horrendous flight felt like it would never end, but finally Meg spotted land in the distance. Giant, needle-nose crags rose through the fog, and the island rolled with large humps before smoothing out and around into rocky shores.

Her stomach flipped as they banked upward once more, and a cave loomed ahead, its wide mouth set into the sheer face of a cliff. Meg screamed again as wings snapped taut, bringing them in, and the claws suddenly flung her free. She hit the cave floor so hard she bounced. The talons had sliced through the ropes, though, and she was free of the mast. There was a growl and gust of wind, but Meg's momentum was too fast and hard, and she kept rolling across the cave floor—right over a dark edge.

She yelped as she dropped into a pit twenty feet down, finally coming to a harsh and abrupt stop, pain lancing all throughout her body. Above, an enraged roar vibrated on the air, and Meg flipped over to see a huge black dragon peering in from above, jaws snapping and claws scrabbling at the walls. She instinctively scrambled backward, but the beast was too large to fit down the opening. With another raging shriek, it wrenched away, all sounds gradually giving way to silence.

Meg sat in the dark, shaking from the adrenaline pumping furiously through her veins. She staggered to her feet and looked around. The pit was completely enclosed, her own little oubliette with complementary bloodthirsty gatekeeper. She almost preferred getting burned at the stake.

She took a stumbling step forward, and hissed as a wound in her side throbbed at the movement. She picked at a bloody tear in her dress to get a look at the damage. It was only a flesh wound, a scratch, but it stung like hell. Her arms and shoulders were covered in other abrasions and contusions as well, though most of those would heal. It took a lot to kill a demon.

Dragon fire being one of those things capable of managing it…

She needed to get out of here. The cave remained silent, and so Meg started running her hands over the rocky walls, searching for purchase. When she found a grip, she started to climb. It was slow-going and painstakingly arduous, and she slipped a few times, but inch by inch, she came closer to the top.

Just when she was a few feet from it, a creature came lashing over the edge with a high-pitched shriek. Meg startled and lost her footing, plummeting back to the bottom with a scream. The furry beast, about the size of a medium dog, scurried down the sides of the pit. Big bat ears fanned out from the top of its head, and it had a wide face framed in gray fur. It was surprisingly lithe for its shaggy body, a long tail whipping back and forth for balance.

It landed on the rocky floor and lifted its head to chitter menacingly. Meg frantically looked around for a weapon, and snatched up a loose rock. This thing was no hellhound, but she wouldn't be ripped to pieces without a fight.

"Stop!" a voice called from the darkness.

Meg jolted at the unexpectedness, eyes snapping to the wall on the other side of the pit where there was a small opening she hadn't noticed before.

"Don't antagonize it," the low, gravelly voice warned.

"It shouldn't antagonize me," she shot back, gaze returning to the creature still stalking her, its muscles rippling with anticipation. She gripped the rock tighter.

"Don't make any sudden movements," the mysterious figure said. "Lay down, slowly."

Meg flicked a skeptical look at the dark cranny, barely catching sight of a shadowed face peering in at her. Every instinct inside her was screaming to fight, but there was something in the calm, cajoling voice that made her waver.

Against her better judgement, she gently set the rock aside, and scooted down to lay upon the floor. The wild animal chittered and growled, but didn't lunge.

"Show it your neck."

Meg's eyes flashed to the aperture. Was he insane? Still, she'd already listened to him thus far.

Gritting her teeth and holding her breath, Meg angled her head back, exposing the tender flesh of her jugular to the creature. It grumbled as it shuffled closer, snuffling loudly as it whisked its nose back and forth over her neck. Meg's breath hitched as fangs came so close to grazing skin. But after another moment, the animal backed up, and then went skittering up the side of the pit and back into the upper cavern.

Meg slowly sat up, eyes wide with disbelief that had worked. She turned toward the man on the other side of the wall. "Thanks," she mumbled.

He didn't speak, and she rose to her feet to approach. Most of him was concealed in shadow, but Meg saw a pair of dazzling blue eyes like sapphire stars gleaming in a small ray of moonlight.

"Are you a prisoner of the dragon, too?" she asked.

His brow quirked slightly. Then, softly, "Yes."

"And that thing there, is what, some kind of sentry?"

"Something like that. It won't hurt you as long as you don't try to escape."

Meg scoffed. "Yeah, well, of course I'm going to try to escape."

"You can't," the man said gravely. "You're on an island far out to sea. There is nowhere to go."

"Have you tried?" she rejoined.

He didn't respond.

She grumbled under her breath, and then winced as her wounds gave a fiery pulse. The second fall hadn't helped her aching body.

"Here."

She turned to find the man reaching through the small gap in the rocks, some kind of dark green algae in his hand. Meg gave him a dubious look.

"For your wounds," he said. "It will help them heal faster."

She could heal just fine on her own.

But there was no reason to endure the pain, especially when she needed to be at full strength to escape.

Meg cautiously approached and reached out to scoop the gunk into her hand. It was cold and slimy.

She retreated to the corner where she could sit on some raised rocks, and craned her neck over her shoulder as she pulled her dress down to expose her back. She tentatively applied the algae, and was pleasantly surprised to feel a cooling sensation at the touch that eased some of the sting.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she whipped back around to find the man staring at her intensely. She bristled. "You mind?"

He cocked his head slightly to the side. "Mind what?"

"Staring. It's rude, you know."

"Oh. I didn't know." He hesitated. "You have such a…thorny beauty about you. Why would it be rude to appreciate that?"

Meg didn't know whether to be insulted or flummoxed. "I hate poetry," she snipped instead. "Either put up or shut up."

He fell quiet at that.

Meg finished tending her wounds and then readjusted her dress. When she glanced back at the dark alcove, those sad blue eyes were still gazing at her.

She suppressed a sigh. "I'm Meg. What's your name?"

"My name?" he repeated, sounding uncertain, and his blue eyes disappeared for a moment as his gaze dropped. "I'm not sure I remember. It has been so long since I've needed it…"

Meg arched a dubious brow. Sounded like this guy had been living in Hell. Meg had been to the real place; she wasn't keen on staying at one of its remote resorts. She turned to start evaluating other options for escape.

"C-Castiel," he said after a moment. "My name is Castiel."

Meg paused to look back at him. "Nice to meet you, Castiel. Now, I'm going to get out of here. You're welcome to come with me."

"But the dragon…"

"It can't stand guard up there all the time. It has to leave the island at some point."

"It never leaves the island."

"It did to come grab me," Meg retorted.

"Your people sang the Ritual Song," Castiel said matter-of-factly. Then, confused and almost aggrieved, "Why did they sing the song?"

"Wasn't my idea," Meg muttered, running her hands over the rock walls more thoroughly. If there was a hole into Castiel's cell, perhaps there were gaps elsewhere she could exploit. "And they weren't my people." She hesitated, not one to be ashamed of who she was, but suddenly finding herself uncertain about divulging her nature to this Castiel.

"I'd been sentenced to death for killing a man who tried to rape me," she said. "And…because I'm a demon."

Maybe Castiel would decide he didn't want to escape with her. Less baggage for her to worry about anyway. She didn't need his plight tugging on her heartstrings. She wasn't supposed to have heartstrings.

Castiel was silent for several long moments. "So, there is no one who will come to rescue you?" he asked, sounding profoundly sad.

Meg frowned at the question. "I rescue myself."

"Can you kill a dragon?"

She shrugged, still probing her fingers over the craggy surface of her prison. "If I have to."

Okay, she didn't actually know if she could kill a dragon. Not having a weapon of any kind certainly put her at a disadvantage. But she never let obstacles stop her before.

Castiel had fallen quiet again, but after another moment, she heard a soft whisper,

"I hope you can."

Meg sighed, and turned around. "So are you gonna help me look for a way out or not?"

Castiel recoiled into further shadow. "I can't. The dragon…you're safe as long as you stay in the pit. He can't reach you there."

"I can't exactly stay here forever."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Meg narrowed her eyes, and walked up to the hole in the rocks, peering through the shadows at Castiel to take in as much detail as she could. "What kind of prisoner are you? You're not covered in dirt or grime. You don't look half starved."

There was a scuffing sound in the dark and the shifting of shadows.

"Why won't you help me escape?" Meg pressed. Somehow, she didn't think it had anything to do with her being a demon.

"The dragon is too strong…"

"That's a coward's answer," she said bitingly. "Is that what you are?"

"I can't…"

Meg reached through the hole to touch his face, not above using womanly wiles to cajole men into doing her bidding.

Castiel jerked away with a ragged gasp, and then there was a deep, guttural rumble.

Meg stiffened.

"No, no," Castiel begged as he stumbled backward into darkness. A scream ripped from his throat.

"Castiel?" Meg pressed herself up against the gap between the rocks, but she couldn't see anything except a fulvous glow emanating from just out of sight.

A vicious roar shook the ground, followed by another bloodcurdling scream. And then the shriek of the dragon pierced Meg's ears, and she scrambled away from the hole.

"Castiel!"

He didn't answer. The dragon roared again, and then a thwack of wings announced its departure. No more sounds came from the other side.

Meg threw herself at the wall and frantically dug at the opening, trying to pry the rocks away. Her nails broke on coarse edges and her skin was scraped raw, but eventually the rocks began to shift. One fell loose, followed by others, and then the opening was big enough for Meg to crawl through.

The other side was not, in fact, another pit or prison, but opened up into the larger cave. Meg carefully made her way up a slope of granite to the main cavern where moonlight poured in from the large opening into the sky. There was no sign of the dragon, or its creepy sentry.

Meg bolted forward, only to skid to a stop at the edge of the cave exit, as it was a sheer drop several hundred feet down to rocky formations in the water below. Dammit.

Before she could turn around, the dragon swooped down from the sky like an inky phantom, webbed wings flapping taut to fill the cave entrance. It belted out a raging roar that nearly knocked Meg off her feet. She pivoted, almost twisting her ankle, and started to run. Jaws snapped at her, barely missing flesh, but the dragon's head clipped her shoulder, sending her pitching down the slope she'd climbed earlier.

She rolled to a stop at the bottom and looked up as the dragon crested the top, belly glowing with crackling red veins. Her heart leaped into her throat.

The dragon opened its maw wide and belched out a stream of fire. Meg scrambled back through the tight crevice into the pit, narrowly avoiding getting barbecued. She flung herself to the ground as the dragon swept past the opening. There was a pause and distant screech, and then the dragon was at the top of the pit again, reaching down with its talons toward her. But she was still out of reach.

With another roar, it banked away sharply. Meg heard thrashing for a few moments, and then the night fell quiet once more save for her ragged breathing. She looked to the fissure in her prison wall, and for a moment felt a pang of regret. Castiel must be dead. Either torn apart or incinerated by the dragon. It was probably a mercy, in a way, to finally have an end to his longterm imprisonment.

Still, it had been…nice, not being alone here.

Not that she was staying any longer.

Mustering her courage again, Meg slowly crept back toward the opening. Everything was still, and she didn't see any sign of the dragon. It obviously seemed to favor the wider cavern up above, so Meg squeezed through the opening and turned the other direction. There had to be another way down this mountain to the island's sea level.

She made her way through the caverns and around to a second opening, soft blue light filtering in. It was smaller, too small for the dragon. Meg spurred toward it. But no sooner had she tasted the freedom of fresh air that she pulled up short. She'd come out on a ledge extending out over the sea far below, and there was still no way down the side of the mountain that she could see. She almost screamed in frustration, but didn't want to alert the dragon.

Claws scraping on stone had her whirling around as that blasted sentry creature came leaping onto the ledge, chittering madly at her. She braced herself for a fight, but just then, Castiel came running out as well. He was bare footed and bare chested, wearing nothing but black trousers. There was not a mark on his body congruent with the horrible screams she'd heard before that sounded like a man being ripped apart by a dragon. And the furry monster beside him wasn't attacking him either.

"Meg," he gasped.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

Castiel's eyes wavered in the moonlight with regret. He stretched out his hand. "Please, be careful of the edge."

"Stay away from me," she snapped. Alarm bells were ringing, though she couldn't place why. All she knew was she needed to get away from this place—and apparently away from this crazy man, whoever he was.

She instinctively backed up a step, momentarily forgetting about the edge. Castiel's eyes blew wide the instant her foot slipped, and Meg didn't have time to scream as she fell, the breath stealing from her lungs in the shock of it. She was plummeting to the dark ocean below, to be either dashed on the sharp rocks or drowned.

And then, as the air whipped up and around her violently, her eyes widened as none other than Castiel came diving after her. With arms tucked in and body angled downward, he gained on her quickly. Then he reached out to grab her arms and managed to flip their positions so that he was under her, all while they continued to hurtle toward the rocks. Meg didn't know whether to scream that he was insane, cling to him, or push him away.

The action was decided for her when Castiel suddenly thrust himself away from her, propelling himself a few feet beneath her. His arms snapped out to the sides as his chest exploded with a red glow that emanated out of his eyes and throat. Meg's heart stopped in horror.

Sparks flew from the veinous fissures that erupted across Castiel's chest, and in the next instant, he threw his head back with a roar, and in a shower of fiery slivers and smoke, the man's form burst outward to reform in the shape of the black dragon.

Piercing blue eyes locked on Meg's as the beast roared and struck out to snatch her between its talons. It tucked her close to its belly, but they were falling too fast, and the water was rushing up to meet them. Meg squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact as the dragon screeched.

—\_/—

Dean peeled his eyes against the mist shrouding the sea and all the way up to the ship's deck. Only the sound of water lapping at the hull proved they were still in the middle of the ocean.

Clomping footsteps came up behind him, and he was suddenly dwarfed by Sam's frame, made twice as large with his 'little' brother's heavy fur coat. White puffs of breath billowed out from each of them as they stood in silence for a few moments.

"The crew are nervous," Sam finally said.

"It's just fog," Dean replied.

"Yeah, but the stories about ships that were lost trying to find the isle of dragons—"

"Are stories. And, by the way, apparently so is the one of the dragon slayer who killed the last dragon." Dean huffed. "Because he missed one."

Sam heaved out a sigh. "Dean, seriously, what are we doing?"

"There's a dragon somewhere out here. We hunt monsters. It's that simple."

His brother fell silent for a moment, nothing but the light splash of calm water against the ship to break the quiet. "I've been thinking," Sam said then. "If there has been a dragon out there all this time, it's never bothered anyone. Not until- not until the people sang the Ritual Song."

"Told you it was a stupid song," Dean muttered. "And it doesn't matter. A monster is a monster. For all we know, the thing could have been hibernating, and the Ritual Song woke it up, which means it could attack other villages. We can't let that happen."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said quietly. "It's just…we've never faced a dragon before."

"We've faced plenty else. Besides, it's what we do." Dean glanced at his brother, noting Sam's stern jaw that bespoke his agreement. It was dirty, dangerous work, hunting monsters, saving people, but someone had to do it.