Author's Note: Arrggh. Guys, I'm so sorry this has taken so long to post. It's just been a nasty few weeks after my exam and it's been difficult to find time or incentive to write x_x But I'm back now, temporarily xD I'm going to Cyprus next week but I'll be taking my laptop with me so I'll try my best to write as much as I can to make up for the time I've been away.

I'm feeling kind of iffy about this chapter, like it didn't come out the way I wanted but I couldn't think of any other way of putting it. So I hope you guys enjoy this :)

A massive thank you to everyone who has faved, followed or reviewed so far :) You guys give me the drive to keep this going ^^

To say that Sam's world was shaken was an understatement.

One moment, he had been standing in one of the towers of the beast's castle with it and Dean with his brother spilling some gobbledegook about the beast being their friend, something they could trust. Then the next thing he knew, something the size of his hand with shimmery gold wings had grabbed him and within a moment or two he was slamming to the floor just outside his home with an impact so forceful it made his knees buckle.

As he sat on the ground shivering in the sudden blast of cold air, he began to work his way through the jumble of thoughts still jamming his brain. Dean was being enchanted by the beast. It was the only logical explanation. He'd been hunting for the thing since he was old enough to operate a weapon! And now he'd suddenly performed a complete turnaround by protecting it? It didn't make sense. Magical manipulation was the only answer. Sam had to help him, but he couldn't do it alone. But the answer was obvious.

He had to show his father and their hunter friends where the thing's castle was, and they'd kill it for good.

Scrambling to his feet which were still rather unsteady, Sam hurried to the door of the cottage and wrenched it open, calling for his father. There was no response. He was clearly still in the village, probably the tavern discussing plans with the other hunters. Perfect. Sam slammed the door closed again and took off down the path to the village, his heart racing. Dean was in danger, he had to hurry. They had no idea what the beast was capable of, and seeing as it had already enchanted his strong-willed brother, there was no knowing what it would do next.

Despite his legs still feeling shaky and ready to give out on him, Sam made it to the village tavern in record time. He threw open the door, sweaty and shaking, calling once again for his father. There was a sudden silence inside at his rapid entrance and dishevelled appearance, before a loud scraping to his right drew his attention. And there was John Winchester, getting quickly to his feet and jogging over, looking alarmed.

"Sam! What are you doing here? I thought you'd be a few days, at least."

"No time to explain, Dad! We need to go save Dean! And we're going to need help; get Bobby and Rufus and -"

"Woah, woah, Sam! Calm down!" John instructed, gripping Sam's shoulders tightly and keeping him locked in place. "What's going on?"

"There's no time, Dad!" Sam said shrilly, throwing his arms wide. "Dean could be getting eaten right now!"

"Sam," John had now adopted his no-nonsense business tone as he steered his son into a chair and held him there. "What are you talking about? What's happened to Dean?"

"He's at the beast's castle!" Sam cried, his heart pounding even harder as he said the words. A few nearby onlookers promptly stopped their conversations to listen in, looking anxious. "He came to save me! I got attacked by wolves, and I fell and the horse bolted, so I ran and I found this gate and -"

"Sam, breathe." John said sharply, eyeing the nearby eavesdroppers.

"The beast captured me, and locked me up in a tower." Sam spoke less breathlessly now but kept the panic in his tone as he scrambled in his pockets for the peculiar device Dean had used to talk to him. "Dean spoke to me through this. And then he showed up and he took my place as the beast's captive!"

John took the object from his son's hands, and examined it with a frown. "What is this?"

Sam spluttered for a moment, before shrieking, "That's your concern?! Dean is a captive of the beast! Didn't you notice he wasn't at home?!"

"Sam, calm down." John said, sliding the device into his pocket. "I haven't gone home yet. Dean's a big boy; he can handle a couple of nights alone." He paused to shrug, and then ploughed on. "I think you must have hit your head when you fell."

"I did not!" Sam cried indignantly. "I broke my leg, yes, but -"

"It looks perfectly fine to me, son."

"Because that thing healed it! But it's got Dean, Dad! We have to rescue him!"

"Sam, if you were really taken prisoner by that thing, it wouldn't have just let you go." John said, trying to keep his voice level. It seemed that the other locals agreed, because they were picking up their own private talks once more and paying them no more attention. "It wouldn't have healed your leg, either. It would have left you for the wolves, or killed you itself. And how did you find your way back here, if you were that deep in the forest?"

"It got a pixie to zap me home, but -"

John seemed to have had enough. With a very final edge to his tone, he clapped a hand to Sam's shoulders. "Go home and rest, Sam. You've had a fright and a knock on the head. Sleep and this will all be a bad dream. I'll find Dean later and tell him this so you don't have to."

"No, Dad!" Sam shouted. "That thing has him and if we don't hurry he'll -"

"Go home and rest, Sam. That's an order."

And without another word, John moved back into the corner he'd been sitting in, shaking his head. Sam sat there, dumbstruck for a moment or two, before leaping to his feet and leaving with a slam of the door. It had begun snowing since he'd been inside, fat white flakes drifting lazily from the dark clouds above, making him shiver. He'd been running on nothing but adrenalin since his return, and now that his only hope had failed him, he felt empty and cold. There was only one thing he could do; wait for John to come home and then he'd see for himself that Dean was missing.

But Dean could already be dead by then.

Waiting for John wasn't an option, and if the villagers' reactions in the tavern were anything to go by, nobody else would believe a word he said until it was already too late. Sam couldn't just sit there and wait for the beast to kill his brother. He knew how to get back to the castle, sort of. And he'd had a little weapons training, he was just a bit rusty. And it wasn't the dead of night this time. That settled it.

If John wasn't going to listen to him, he was going to get Dean back himself.

"So Gingantor's really your brother?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"He's cute. What the hell happened with you?"

"Ha. Funny. I think I just cracked a rib."

"I'll have you know I'm hilarious."

"Let me know when you start."

Dean trailed after Castiel down yet another shadowy passage, Gabriel hovering upside-down just above his shoulder. He never thought it possible to encounter an entity that he desired to punch more than the jackass archangel from his own timeline, but that was before he'd met the miniature version. It seemed that what this Gabriel lacked in stature, he more than made up for in ability to drive Dean to the brink of insanity. The hunter had even found himself wishing to have the original back. At least that Gabriel dropped by for a few minutes at a time; he couldn't seem to shake this one.

"Why are you following me anyway?" He growled, turning to glare at the now grinning archangel.

Flipping himself the right way up, Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and the grin turned smug. "I gotta make sure the boss is safe, don't I? Kinda my job, don't ya think?"

"You think I'm gonna hurt Cas?" Dean asked, bristling.

"I think I can't afford to take chances. Considering how you come from a village that wants all of our heads on spikes."

"What?"

The archangel scoffed and opened his mouth but he was cut across by Castiel. "That is enough, Gabriel. You are dismissed. Dean is no threat to any of us." He turned, amused glint in his blue eyes. "Do not pretend you are not staying by his side just because you can see that your presence causes him frustration."

Gabriel grinned, hands behind his head. "You caught me, boss."

With a sharp popping noise, he had gone. Dean scowled at the empty air he had previously been occupying, and shook his head. "Somehow he's worse than the real Gabriel. How is that even fucking possible?"

"Apart from the obvious height difference and adherence to my every command, he does not differ that much from the real Gabriel." Castiel replied, turning once again and continuing down the corridor. "He still delights in mayhem and havoc."

"Thanks. That's reassuring."

"I fail to see how that news brings you comfort, Dean."

The hunter sighed. "I can't believe we've known each other for this long without you picking up sarcasm." He shook his head in disbelief and caught sight of the worn and peeling wallpaper as he did so. This part of the castle seemed so much more worn down than the rest, not helped by the severe lack of light dousing everything in shadows. "Where are going anyway, Cas?"

"I must show you something. It may be a clue regarding our current predicament, but I am unsure of how to interpret it."

Oh, joy. Research. As if Dean didn't have enough to deal with as it was, now Castiel was expecting him to brainstorm? This day just kept getting better and better. Not voicing his true feelings other than a heartily disinterested groan, Dean continued to follow Castiel down the long hallway, their footsteps making dull, echoing thuds as they hit the marbled surface.

Now without Gabriel buzzing in his ear, Dean no longer had any distractions keeping him from staring at Castiel's wings and regardless of how much he wanted to, he couldn't tear his eyes away. They were held strong and proud, sleek and shiny, obviously cared for well. Just like the angel himself, they were ramrod straight as if he were standing to attention, everything about him screaming 'Soldier'. But there was an odd flutter in the feathers every now and again, almost as if Castiel was self-conscious about his wings' newfound attention.

As soon as this thought entered his head, Dean forced his attention elsewhere; anywhere but at the feathery appendages just in front of him. It was probably as bizarre an experience for Castiel as it was for Dean to have the wings permanently on show; he was used to having them stashed away somewhere unreachable for humans. Dean wasn't supposed to be seeing them. Just like he wasn't supposed to teach Castiel to disobey, to fall. Maybe his wings were the last piece of solace Castiel had, the last bit of his true angelic self that Dean hadn't yet managed to taint. But now that too had been stolen from the angel against his will. The least Dean could do was save on his discomfort by not ogling them.

Castiel came to an abrupt halt and Dean was so busy looking anywhere but his wings that he almost walked right into him. They'd come to a set of double doors, deep brown in colour. On the two halves where the doors met was a lump of bronze metal, carved into a horned monster wearing a fierce expression. Castiel took hold of one of the beast's horns and twisted it, the door swinging open and showing the room inside.

There wasn't much inside, despite the large space beyond. The carpet was threadbare and tatty, just like everything else in the castle. Drapes heavy and thick with dust lay against the wall or spread across the floor, their rich colours long gone and covered in holes. The room looked as if it had been used as a dumping ground for broken furniture; there were chairs with legs missing, ruined tapestries and statues with broken chunks, and a table that had been smashed in half. At the very end of the room were a set of stone steps leading to a balcony separated from the room by a glass door, several panes of which were missing. The room was bitterly cold as the wind blew in through the holes, bringing several flakes of snow along with it.

On the slightly raised platform just before the door was a small table. It was the only piece of furniture in the room that wasn't broken in any way. On it rested something long and flat which Dean couldn't identify from his space in the doorway, and a glass jar. Inside, if he wasn't mistaken, was a rose. It stood upright and elegant, its petals red and delicate-looking. The flower was omitting a strange but gentle red glow, and it was towards this that Castiel gravitated. Feeling a little apprehensive about the glowing fucking flower, Dean followed.

"What the hell is that?" He asked once they were both stood around the table. Upon closer inspection, the flat object looked to be an ornately decorated mirror, its face reflecting the dark ceiling above, and into which were carved several delicate swirls. But Dean's attention was fixed to the jar and its odd inhabitant.

"I was hoping you would be able to inform me as to its meaning." Castiel replied, placing a hand upon the jar. "As for its function, I have been reliably informed that it is the key to a curse."

The word struck Dean like a bolt of lightning and he backed away. "And just why are you keeping a cursed flower?"

"Because it is linked to me, Dean. I am the one who is cursed. If it is destroyed, I will die."

"What are you talking about? How have you been cursed? You're an angel." Dean said, utterly nonplussed and choosing to ignore the unpleasant lurch in his gut at Castiel's dark words. "I thought stuff like this wouldn't affect you."

Castiel smiled, a slight upwards tilt in the corner of his mouth. "Nevertheless, it has happened. Zachariah explained -"

"Wait, seriously? You take everything that douchebag says as the gospel truth?"

"None of my brothers and sisters are capable of lying to me in this world. It appears that it is entirely true that this rose signifies I must experience love and be loved in return before the petals fall, or the outcome shall be the same; I will die."

Dean was entirely speechless. Then, unable to help it, he scoffed in disbelief. "You're joking, right?"

"As you have pointed out many times to me, I do not understand the concept of what is amusing and what is not. I am bound to this castle, and to this form, until the curse has been lifted."

"Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do about it? I mean, we're stuck with this until we break out of here, right?" When the angel nodded, Dean continued. "Okay, so we just gotta focus on getting out of this world. We don't even think about this shit, because I'm sorry Cas, but I will not be the one to explain the love crap to you. That's more Sammy's gig."

Another almost-smile. "I understand. I just wondered if you had any light to share on this development. That's all."

"Not happening." Dean shook his head and ignoring the continuing clenching of his stomach at the idea of Castiel dying because of him. Again. To dispel the unwanted images that thought path conjured, he hastily changed the subject to the only other object on the table. "What the hell is that mirror doing there anyway? Is it cursed too?"

"Not at all. It shows the asker what they wish to see when the question is spoken. I used it to find you. That is when Gabriel informed me of the dangers of the local villagers, and how it would be safer to wait for you to find me."

Hesitantly, Dean picked it up and stared back at his own puzzled reflection. "You used this to find me?"

The angel nodded; a single bowing of his head. "I asked it where you were."

"Can we ask it who's responsible for this? Or how to get out of here? Or to find where Sammy is?"

"It seems the mirror's power is limited to this world only."

Dean sighed in frustration, when another version of Sam popped into his head. It wouldn't hurt to see how the kid was coping, would it? He'd had a shock to his system after all. The least Dean could do was check up on him. Feeling foolish, he cleared his throat and stared at his own reflection. "Show me Sam?" He said, trying not to think about how ridiculous he must have looked or sounded.

The moment he had opened his mouth, the mirror's rims began to glow with a faint green light, clashing with the soft red hue from the rose. Then slowly, as if a mist was caught beneath its surface, his reflection disappeared. It was quickly replaced with another image, and at first Dean thought something had gone wrong because there was nothing but startling white. Then it became clear; Dean was looking at an area of the woods but it was unrecognisable because of the blizzard currently raging outside.

And there in the thick of it all was Sam. He was bundled up in a cloak, but it offered little to no protection against the horrible conditions outside. He was knee-deep in a drift of snow, pushing his way through, arms shielded against the onslaught brought on by the icy wind. His eyes were tiny slits in his face, his cheeks bright red and rosy, lips tinted blue from cold. As Dean watched, horrified, he stumbled and nearly fell; only clinging to a nearby tree seemed to keep him upright. But he was sagging, panting for breath, and it looked to Dean like he lacked the strength to pull himself right again.

"Cas, he's in trouble! I -" Dean began, throwing his head up to show the alarming picture to the angel, but he had gone. Dean whirled around, but Castiel was nowhere to be seen. "Cas? Cas?!"

Keeping the mirror clutched in his hands, Dean hurried out of the room and saw the passageway outside every bit as deserted as the room he had just left. Cursing under his breath, Dean ran back the way he'd come; down the hall and several staircases, heading for the front doors. Sam was out there somewhere lost in the blizzard and, true brother or just a weird figment of this world's imagination, it was engrained into every nerve Dean possessed to save him.

After casting a brief look at the mirror – the kid was trudging stubbornly through the snow that now reached his thighs but no doubt now, he was bent almost double and struggling – Dean was leaping down the marble steps the doors in sight when something tiny and golden just appeared right in front of his face, causing him to swerve to a stop. Gabriel hovered at his eye line, smirking.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Dean spat, shoving the mirror inside his jacket pocket. "I gotta go get Sam!"

"You cannot leave, Dean. You will only be endangering yourself." A grim voice behind Dean called, and he whirled around to see Castiel hurrying down the steps, miniature versions of Balthazar, Rachel, Anna and Uriel hovering around him like multi-coloured fireflies. "Gabriel, Balthazar, Rachel and myself shall go and fetch him, do not worry. We are angels, after all. The cold will not affect us as it does you and Sam. Uriel and Anael will remain to ensure you stay here."

"Like hell I will!" Dean growled as the angel moved past him. He tried to follow but his jacket was being held fast by the tiny angels ordered to keep him in place. He tried to shake them off but their strength, it seemed, was not limited by their size. "Cas, get them off me!" He had to help find Sam; it was natural for him to need to look out for the kid. And it was his fault he was out in the snow in the first place.

"When I return, Dean."

"Yeah, sit tight Deano and let the grown-ups do their jobs." Gabriel called over his shoulder as the front doors closed behind him. The second they had closed completely, both angels dropped their grips on him and fluttered in front of him instead.

"Just do you know, mud monkey, I'd quite happily allow you into that storm to your death." Uriel said stonily, eyeing Dean with pure loathing.

Dean scowled at him. "It's a relief to know some things don't change; you're just as big of a dick angel in this world as you are in mine."

And with that, an idea occurred to him. They may have been the size of his hand, but they were still angels at their core. Which meant they still had the same weaknesses, right? And while the idea of him finding holy oil somewhere in this castle was laughable, there was another thing he could do that could rid him of his pesky guards so that he could join the hunt for Sam.

Without a word, he turned and walked a little way back up the marble stairs, pulling the knife from his pocket as he did so to bite into his other palm. "But you know what, Uriel?" He spoke harshly, ignoring the metallic sting of the knife in his hand, "You're every bit as stupid as your other form, too."

And as he turned, he slapped his hand onto the stone wall. Anna and Uriel only had time to glimpse the red stain of his smeared blood of a very shoddily drawn angel banishing sigil before they were both wrenched from the room with identical shrieks. Muttering a few choice words about Uriel under his breath, Dean returned the knife to his pocket and pulled the mirror out again as he vaulted the stairs, sprinted the length of the hall and burst out through the castle doors into the blizzard outside.

"Show me Sam!" He ordered. The same green light lit up the mirror's edges and Dean's reflection disappeared to be replaced with Sam, now lying on his front, half submerged in the snow, eyes closed. Castiel and his miniature entourage were nowhere to be seen. "Shit!"

Dean shoved his way through the gates, ignoring the icy bite of the wind and the metal against his hands. He studied the mirror as he plunged into the trees, looking desperately for any sort of familiar sign that would tell him where Sam was. He saw nothing recognisable, however, and swore as he replaced the mirror in his pocket. He could only hope that Sam had tried to take the same path he'd used to get to the castle in the first place, the same one he'd relayed to Dean, and that the snow hadn't been so thick that he'd wandered off course by accident.

While that might not have been a problem for Sam, it certainly was for Dean. The snow being whipped in every direction by the wind was thick and heavy; he could barely see a hand in front of his face let alone find a narrow path. But he had to try; he couldn't just sit at the castle, twiddling his thumbs and waiting. He climbed the bank, slipping and sliding, grabbing one of the trees at the top to haul himself up. He was in the generally right area, he knew. All he had to do was find the way through the trees back to the pathway, and hope that somewhere along it he'd run into Sam.

The trees were doing next to nothing to shield the forest floor from the snow; in fact it now came to halfway up Dean's shins. This made quick movement extremely difficult and Dean cursed himself for not grabbing the horse he'd arrived on. Its long legs would have coped better in this kind of weather than his currently were, he felt certain. But he couldn't go back now; with every passing moment Sam was getting weaker. So, gritting his teeth against the icy chill buffeting against him, Dean surged on past tree after snow-covered tree, whipping his head around left and right for any sign of life.

Then suddenly the trees stopped, and he found himself on a slightly raised bank, staring out at a frozen lake. The lake's iced surface was covered in a thick layer of snow, and the footprints of animals were dotted across it. Dean gave the edge of the lake a glance; it was a risk to try crossing the ice, yes, but if he took the time to go around, it might have disastrous consequences for Sam.

Clenching his fists in determination, Dean took the first tentative step onto the ice. His boot slipped a little, but it took his weight with only a slight creak. Steeling himself for what he was about to do, Dean took his other foot off the bank and took a step forwards, heart pounding in his ears. He didn't need the brains he was born with to know that this was a really stupid fucking idea, but he had to find Sam quickly. The ice beneath his boots seemed sturdy enough, and he chose to ignore the way the cracks were getting longer and louder with every step closer to the centre.

It was when he had almost reached the halfway point that his foot slipped on a patch of ice and he tumbled to one knee. Mouthing swear words in a mixture of panic and irritation, Dean watched as a spider web of cracks branched off from his body and spread further and further with every second. The cracking sounds filled the air like gunshots, and every time he moved the slightest muscle, it sent another crack wildly breaking away from the main bunch.

Well, shit.

"Dean?!"

The hunter whipped his head up and felt blissful warm relief spreading through his chest at the sight that greeted him. Across the lake on the opposite bank was Castiel, Sam hovering like a creepy doll beside him being held up by Gabriel, Balthazar and Rachel. It seemed that Castiel had at least partially healed him because he was conscious and staring in horror at his brother knelt in the middle of a frozen lake.

Dean opened his mouth to reassure both him and Castiel when a deafening crack robbed him of his voice, and the ice beneath him jolted horribly. He just about had time to glance in dread at the breaking ice beneath him, let alone move out the way. The next moment it gave way completely, plunging him into the freezing water, Castiel's yell the last thing he heard before the deafening silence under the water.

The moment Dean went under, the only thing thudding through his mind was get to the fucking surface. But the lake beneath the ice was dark and murky, and the snow was successfully blotting out any light from above. The momentum of his fall and the current had dragged him away from the hole in which he had fallen, and no matter which way he spun, he just couldn't see it. There was just shadow and dull white above his head, the rush of bubbles as he continued to spin hopelessly in his ears, glacial water filling his mouth.

The cold felt like it was inside his body, stabbing away in his chest and at his lungs, numbing his arms and legs. It was fogging his brain, and already he could feel the edges of his mind becoming hazy. He tried to kick his legs, tried to move, but the cold was affecting his muscles; he could hardly move. His chest was burning, desperate for oxygen. He couldn't breathe. He was going to drown here in this icy lake, in a fucked up alternative universe.

But then, just before he blacked out completely, he heard a dull crash from behind him before two strong arms wrapped around his torso, hoisting him backwards. And he knew that shade of tan anywhere.

Gabriel, Balthazar and Rachel wasted no time. The second Castiel had leapt through the ice after Dean, ignoring Sam's weakened protests they had flown back to the castle and set up a roaring fire before placing him in front of it. Then, just as they had been ordered when they'd first found the kid half frozen, they all stayed by his side to keep him warm and partly to ensure he stayed put.

Castiel arrived seconds later, propping up an unconscious Dean, both dripping puddles of water on the carpeted floor. Keeping the hunter close to his furnace-like warmth, Castiel settled down next to Sam, Dean slumped against his shoulder. As Sam watched, he pressed a gentle hand across Dean's forehead. Within moments, his shivers had died down and colour began to return to his face, and his clothes even began to dry out. There was no attempt to harm Dean at all, as there had been no hesitation in the angel when saving both of their lives.

Eyes fixed on the floor Sam spoke, his voice weak and croaked. "I'm sorry."

Castiel, too fixated on Dean, didn't seem to hear him. But by his knee, Gabriel tipped his head back. "What's that, Gigantor?"

Sam turned his gaze to the tiny archangel instead. "I thought you were all monsters. I was wrong. And I'm sorry."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. You just heard those stories or saw our wings and jumped to a conclusion?" Upon seeing Sam's guilty cringe, both his gaze and tone softened. "Good thing your brother's got a bit more sense, isn't it? But don't you ever tell him I said that. He'd never let me forget it."

Sam felt the corners of his mouth twitch. "Your secret's safe with me."

Gabriel tipped his head back once more and grinned, before they both lapsed into silence, Sam returning to watching Dean and Castiel. The hunter was now breathing completely peacefully and heavily as if fast asleep, head still resting on Castiel's shoulder. All his life, Sam had been told that the creature before him was dangerous and lethal, but he saw nothing in the winged being before him. If he truly was the monster Sam had believed him to be, he would have left Sam to the wolves, not healed his broken leg and then had him safely transported home. He would have left Sam to freeze to death in the snow, not saved his life again. He would have left Dean to drown in that lake, not dived in to save him without a moment's hesitation.

Dean was right. This so-called 'beast', this Castiel, was no monster and Dean was in absolutely no danger from him whatsoever.

An hour or so later, Sam was once again landing in the yard outside his home, Gabriel clinging to his arm. Sam had insisted on helping the angels carry Dean upstairs, during which Sam promised to do all he could to ensure that their master's castle stayed hidden from the village's hunters. With a smirk, Gabriel now waved at him before disappearing into the snowy night with a slight pop.

Unbeknownst to Sam, his and Gabriel's reappearance was being closely watched. Hidden in the dark shadow of the forest, John Winchester was gripping the strange device he'd taken off Sam earlier that day, now realising that his son's tale hadn't been quite so far-fetched after all.