A/N: This is a collaborative fic by Fish and me, likely to focus mainly on Supernatural characters. It is alternate universe, taking place in a fantasy world. Sorry if it is a bit confusing at first.

Since Fish is also writing this, ships will probably included. Rating will be a stable T, though. -Rat

Prologue

It was a calm, lazy night. Humidity hung in the air, undisrupted, and two boys lounged lazily in the grass. If one was to look very closely, one might have noticed a spot of suspicious red liquid on the older boy's shirt. One could also notice the way that the younger's eyes darted around, checking the surroundings quickly before flopping down onto the grass beside the first boy. One might have noticed the knives hidden in their clothing, the salt pouches, the flasks of holy water. But no one was looking and the evening went peacefully as both of them stared up at the sky, either too tired to speak or not wanting to.

"Dean?" The younger one said suddenly, piercing the humid air.

"Yeah?" The one called Dean turned to look at him.

"Can I ask you something?" His younger brother demanded.

"Shoot."

"If I die, please don't do anything about it."

Dean swallowed, looking at the younger boy with a strange sort of horror in his eyes, "Sammy-"

"No, please. You know what happens." Sammy sounded determined.

"You're too young for this discussion," Dean's voice was forced.

"Then dad and you shouldn't have taken me with you today."

"Fair point." Dean conceded, but said nothing more.

A silence stretched just then, for what could have been seconds or hours. Sammy turned over to see his brother's face, but Dean's expression was neutral, almost peaceful, and eyes were closed. Anyone else would have said that the fifteen year old boy was sleeping.

"You know that family comes first, Sam." He muttered finally.

"But that wouldn't matter if you brought me back and I wasn't your family anymore." His younger brother argued. "Please, Dean."

"Alright," Dean sighed. "I will not."

"Promise?"

"Promise. But you have to promise me something, too."

"Yes?"

"Don't die any time soon."

"I won't."

Sammy curled into a little ball, turning away from his brother, which Dean took as a cue that the conversation was over. It was often that they came here- if the weather was nice, the boys preferred to spend the night without their slightly-maniac father, and Sam hated how cramped their cabin was. Dad wouldn't normally let them sleep out in the woods, but this was the clearing where the fairies danced. Even Uncle Bobby thought those were safe, and it took quite a lot for something to be declared as safe by Uncle Bobby.

Dean looked at his brother's tiny form and decided that Sammy was right. It was stupid of their dad to take the eleven year old boy with them that day. There were too many things his brother didn't understand... oh, who was Dean kidding? There were far too many things that his brother understood far too well, and if it didn't scare the hell out of him, he wasn't Dean Winchester. And that was a strange phrase, because everyone knew that nothing scared Dean Winchester. He couldn't afford to be scared, with the things his dad did. The things his dad battled.

There were four races in Dean's messed up world. There were people, like him and Dad and Sammy. Those were the good guys. Then there were the Strangers. No one actually knew what the strangers were. No one knew what they looked liked, how they lived, how to kill them. But none of that mattered because the strangers didn't matter. Everyone left them alone, and they returned the favor. Only in the dead of the night were the stories about the strange ones told; they were giant and green and they ate you from the inside and then wore your skin like clothing. They were metal and they threw lightning at you if you didn't do as they said. They had scales, gills, horns and weird things grew out of their faces instead of eyes. They drank blood. They could turn into anyone they wanted. They lived all alone because they couldn't move while you were looking at them.

Then there were the Circe, more commonly called monsters or fiends. The Circe were known very well, but no less feared. They had black eyes and were supernaturally strong, but couldn't pass salt lines. A Circe had killed Dean's mother when he was very young. Dad would kill that Circe someday, though, because his dad, with all his faults, was still a hero. Finally, there were the Nameless. Most would agree that the nameless were nowhere as scary as the Circe. They were like people, but stranger and more beautiful in their living death. No one actually knew what they wanted: sometimes people even made them out to be heroes- it was hard not to, with their perfect, sharp features and their magnificent wings with varying shades of gray and black, and their hate for the evil Circe. Dean, however, knew better. There was that time his dad took him with him to hunt a Circe, but the thing's enemy race had gotten there first.

He remembered the way that the Nameless turned, looking as if it didn't care that the humans approached; not precisely slow, but almost graceful. He remembered the way that the black blood of the fiend dripped off its long white fingers. The way that the black black wings unfurled suddenly and how it was gone quicker than Dean could track. But the one detail Dean remembered clearest were its eyes. Its face looked human at first; gaunt, framed by dark curls, not much older than Dean. And then its head turned and it looked directly into Dean's eyes for what was probably longer than normal and any trace of human was gone. There was something about those too-blue eyes, something so out of place that Dean Winchester, who was never scared of anything or anyone except maybe when it concerned his younger brother, dropped his blade and screamed a little. It could have been how empty they looked, confused. As if something should be there -something that always was there- had vanished. As if the empty space still couldn't understand why it was there.

Yes, Dean decided, glancing once again over at his baby brother, Sam was too young to go hunting with them. It was a known fact that all of the Nameless were people at some point, and Dean could see very clearly why that frightened Sammy.

Death wasn't permanent, not always. But the cost of life was humanity.

"Don't die," Dean whispered into the night air once more. "Don't die, Sammy."