A/N: Thank you to all who are staying with me and reviewing! Just a few more chapters until this sequel comes to a close. For now, enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen

Castiel woke to the slow drag of fingers in his hair. Dean's chest rose and fell slowly, but his eyes were cracked open, looking down at Castiel. "Mornin', sweetheart," he mumbled softly.

Dark wings stretched wide before coming to rest over them again. "Good morning, Dean."

They spent a long time just laying together, watching the sun rise slowly from the treetops. Castiel thought they could probably lay there all day, until Dean's stomach grumbled loudly. When was the last time he'd eaten?

"You need breakfast," he said, pushing himself into a sitting position with a great deal of difficulty. Soreness permeated him; not just his body, but his mind.

They needed to find that other way. He wouldn't allow the trials to be completed, not on his life.

Dean knew exactly what he was thinking. "Should we bring breakfast to the library?" he asked, stretching as well. They both knew which library they were going to.

Dean dressed plainly while Castiel donned his wing-friendly shirt. The king rang a nearby servant to bring some breakfast food to the library, the public one, while Castiel knocked on Sam's door.

The prince opened it immediately, dressed for the day with Gabe hot on his heels. "Research and breakfast," Castiel said in his still sleep-gruff voice.

"Perfect," Sam sighed, dragging Gabe out of the room.

They all reconvened in the big library, Dean already looking at the economic records from one hundred years ago. Castiel sidled up to him, wincing at the amount of red ink on the page.

"Should be this week," Dean murmured.

"Less," Castiel grit his teeth. "A few days."

Dean swallowed thickly, neck tensing. This whole situation was just horrible. The angel felt himself wilting, but took Dean's hand anyway. Regardless of what he and Dean… discussed last night, he was still going to keep him as close as possible.

"Should we…?" Sam nodded at the door, implying that they should go to Thomas' library.

"Yeah," Dean closed the book. "Might as well."

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," a servant bowed from the doorway. "I have a parcel here for Castiel."

Castiel could feel everyone's eyes on him like a physical touch. "Uh, thank you." He took the box from the messenger and set it on a nearby table. The messenger left, and thankfully the little group stayed back. Who would send him anything? Was it dangerous to unwrap out here in the open?

There were bigger things on his mind, so he tore off the brown paper and pried open the lid.

It was just an old book and a letter. He squinted at it, then picked up the yellowed envelope. It smelled like must, paper, and whiskey. "I think it's from Bobby," he murmured.

He bent a sharp flight feather forward and ripped a clean line in the envelope.

Cas—

I dug up some things about angel lineage and interrogated the red-winged little shit that hangs out around my house. I think I might have found out where you came from.

Crowley said the rumor was that the last angel of the lord to come to earth was named Lailah, and she had a kid with a soldier who gave the boy up for adoption about twenty years ago. This book has some rituals for summoning angels, and with you being one, I hope it'll work. Summon her, and she might tell you what she knows.

—Bobby

Castiel dropped the paper, eyes wide, and grabbed the book. There, bookmarked with a scrap of paper, was an angel summoning spell.

"Cas?" Dean asked.

"I asked Bobby to find out about my family, if he could," the angel murmured. "He sent me a spell that might help me find answers." He looked up.

Dean seemed a little nervous. "You gonna do it?" he asked.

Castiel nodded. "Sooner rather than later." Clutching the book and the letter, he strode up to Dean and kissed him.

Dean leaned into it, stroking a thumb over Castiel's cheek. Castiel broke away and, though he didn't want to leave Dean, stepped back. "I'll just be a few minutes," he murmured. "Go start without me."

Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but just nodded. "See you in the library," Dean gave him a little smile.

Castiel nodded at Sam and Gabe before stepping out of the big library. Where could he go to do a spell without being bothered? He made his way to Dean's room, where his basic spell supplies were.

Bobby's spell had a list in it. He didn't need Dean's book, or any of the bits and pieces that went into other spells. He ended up grabbing the matches, two wax candles, and the wooden bowl, making a mental note to replace the candles, as they were dangerously low.

After rooting around for a compass, Castiel stood in Dean's doorway, clutching the items in a small sack to his chest. He didn't want to do the spell in Dean's room. Without a real plan, he closed the door and began walking. His feet carried him to the right, to the painting of Dean's parents.

A smile crossed Castiel's face. The secret passages would be a good place—no one to find him in there.

The painting swung open easily and Castiel stepped through, coughing at the fine cloud of dust that puffed up around him. The little library room, he needed to find that. How appropriate that every place they'd learned about all the awful things happening was a library. Hopefully summoning another angel wouldn't be awful.

The room looked like it hadn't been opened in months. Castiel had to throw his shoulder against it to get it open, nearly dropping the sack in the process. Quietly, he closed the door and lit the lamps, pushing all the furniture to the corners of the room.

He had the candles, bowl, and book, but he just sat on the floor for a minute.

Would Lailah have the answers? Was Lailah… the letter said that the angel had a kid with a soldier. Was she his mother? He stared into the empty bowl.

All Castiel's life, he'd felt alone. He'd never been close to his old family. Well, his human family. The only other servant in the castle he'd ever befriended was Gabe, and Dean was his life, which brought Sam along with him.

As he thought, though, he realized it had become bigger. He had Bobby, who always looked at him like an equal. He had Bela and Ava and Gadreel and Inias. He even had Crowley, however irritating he was. He had more of a family now than he'd ever had before.

But this angel could possibly be his biological mother. That was something on another level. Seeing her, talking to her… What if she wasn't? What if she didn't care about him? A part of Castiel hoped the spell didn't work so he could keep his ignorance, but he knew he couldn't do that. He needed to know.

Castiel turned back to the book. He needed angel blood, his blood. A lot of it. He winced at the thought. There was a knife in his pocket, and he sliced a quick line on his palm and squeezed it over the bowl.

A few drops dripped down. Not nearly enough.

He tore a strip of cloth off his wing-friendly shirt. He'd have to ask Gabe to make him another. With a steadying breath, he drew the knife across his wrist. The blood flowed freely now, and Castiel monitored his vitals. The second he felt dizzy, he tied the cloth tightly around his wrist and put pressure on it. He needed to be conscious to do the spell.

The vertigo subsided and Castiel knelt, swiping the dust away from the wooden floorboards. Dipping a finger in his blood, he drew a circle, with two lines bisecting it from north to south and west to east. Enochian sigils went in each quarter of the circle and at all four compass points. Finally, the two lit candles were set at the northeast and northwest points.

Castiel pushed the bowl away and lit another match, glancing at the book pages to read the Enochian words. They were old, and though he could pronounce them, he didn't know what a few of them meant.

"With the blood of the tainted," he recited, hoping that it was right, "to the blood of the—something—I command the heavens open—something something—Lailah, child of the Father."

Castiel cringed and dropped the lit match onto the circle. His blood flared up immediately and cooled to a soft glow.

"Castiel," a soft voice said, and his head snapped up. There in front of him was a beautiful young woman in a simple white robe. She didn't look older than sixteen, maybe. Her raven hair was a stark contrast to her pale skin, and her cupid's bow lips tilted up ever so slightly.

She was the spitting image of Castiel.

"L-Lailah?" his voice was shaky, but he stood.

She smiled then. It was soft but filled Castiel with warmth like he'd never felt before. "Yes," she said simply.

They stared at each other for a moment, and Castiel saw that her eyes were a light hazel. "Ask," she said, jerking his attention back to the present.

Castiel took a breath. "Who is my mother?"

"I think you already know the answer to that." Her voice was barely a murmur, but Castiel could hear it clear as day.

"You," he said. She nodded.

Castiel swallowed thickly. She was his mother. This was his mother. "Who is my father?" he asked, voice a bit stronger.

"His name was Cain," she said. Something in Castiel's chest tightened. She said was.

To his surprise, Lailah sat on the ground, fluffing out huge white wings. Castiel sunk to the floor in front of her, avoiding the traces of his blood. He mirrored her, spreading his black wings and resting them on the dusty ground.

"You want to know more?" she asked, and Castiel nodded. "Cain was a troubled soul," she continued. "A soldier in times of war who, like the other soldiers, did terrible things out of necessity. And still, his soul shone with good intent and righteousness. He prayed nightly to god for salvation for months after he returned to the Kingdom of Winchester, but stopped after a while. He believed god no longer listened."

Her voice was mesmerizing, and her lips quirked up in a smile. "But I did. I visited him one night and told him not to lose hope. I told him his soul was bright. He had the most beautiful blue eyes." She gave Castiel a look, and he felt tears prickle behind his own blue eyes. "He begged me to stay, and I did. I loved Cain with all my heart, and I gave him a child. You."

Castiel swiped at his eyes. Don't fucking cry, Castiel, not in front of your mother. That thought pushed another tear over the edge.

Lailah sighed. "That was when the civil war broke out among the angels, the half-bloods who walk the earth. I was forced to leave you and your father. A year after I left, Cain was called back to the army, to travel across the land to fight another enemy. He knew he wouldn't be coming back.

"He decided to bind your grace and deliver you to an orphanage to have the chance at a normal life. I see that it has failed." She said this with a smile.

Castiel thought she might say more, but she was silent. "So he's dead," Castiel stated more than asked. Lailah nodded. "Okay," he said, taking a steadying breath. "And you're an angel of the lord?" She nodded again.

"Do you know about the curse on the kingdom?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Is there…" Castiel swallowed. "Could you help us? I'm sure you're much more powerful than anyone."

She shook her head, dark waves rustling. "We cannot interfere. We are not supposed to come to Earth, but not many of us have a son." She put a hand on his. It was warm. "I don't have much time left."

Castiel let a few tears fall, unwilling to take his hand back to wipe his face. "I don't know what to say." He chuckled through the tears.

"I watch from above, but I cannot see everything." She squeezed his hand. "Tell me more about you."

o o o

Dean followed Sam and Gabe out of the library and down a hallway, lost in thought.

What would happen when Castiel found out about his true lineage? Would he leave to be with his family or something? Would he have some cultural revelation? Dean shook himself. No, he'd still be here. He'd stay with Dean, he'd made that much clear yesterday.

"Dean?" He realized Sam had been saying something.

"You two go start, I just need a little walk," Dean gave them a little smile and started in the other direction.

He walked, but he didn't know where to go. He thought about going to the kitchens, but he probably looked like shit and didn't want to upset Charlie. He could go to the gardens, but being around beauty in the midst of so much pain didn't seem right. He decided, finally, to trek out to the arena where he practiced sparring.

As he approached, he heard a few grunts, and thunk, and a muttered, "Ow." When he turned the corner, he was surprised to find Adam.

"Adam?" he asked.

The younger boy, almost stumbled from whirling around so quick. "Your Ma- I mean, Dean," he corrected himself. He looked like he was debating about bowing or not, and Dean found it sort of funny.

"No need to bow," he said, and Adam turned a bright fuchsia. "What are you doing out here in the arena?"

The wooden sword Adam had been using was tossed to a nearby bench as he sat down. "I don't know," he sighed. "The Second Rebellion's happening, and I just…" he huffed. "I want to be able to fight. I'm just a kitchen boy, but I can at least learn that much, just in case."

"You're not just a kitchen boy," Dean gave the kid a little smile, taking the seat next to him. "You're my brother, if only half. That counts for something."

Adam glanced at him. "In an effort to be brotherly, are you alright? You look like shit." His eyes widened at his own words. "Respectfully, I mean."

Dean chuckled. Adam's lack of filter reminded him of Castiel. Should he tell him about all the shit that's going on? The weight on his shoulders was shared by Castiel, Sam, and Gabe, but it was still getting heavier every day.

"You still good about keeping secrets?" he asked, evading the question for now.

"Absolutely," Adam nodded. "Haven't told a single soul about the whole brother-of-the-king thing."

Dean rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna tell you some stuff you can't repeat. I just, I don't know, I need a fresh pair of ears."

He turned to the Milligan, who looked at him so openly. Was that how he looked when he was sixteen? Hopeful and naive? "I've got a pair," Adam said.

"There's… a bunch of bad stuff happening, not just the Rebellion," he began. "Our land is cursed. Crazy, I know, but it is. We've had to do a few trials to fix it, and," he took a deep breath. "The last one demands royal blood. Winchester blood. I have to die if we want to break the curse."

Adam was quiet for a long moment. "Do a lot of people know about this?" he asked.

"No." Dean glanced at him. "And we need to keep it that way."

There was a pause in which Adam stared hard at his hands. "Did it say specifically royal blood, or just Winchester blood?" He traced a line on his hand, and Dean saw that it was a vein.

"I know what you're thinking," Dean grumbled. "Jesus, we're all so self-sacrificing. You're not going to help us like that."

Adam put up his hands in surrender. "Just wondering."

"So, yeah. We're trying to look for another way, but…" Dean trailed off. If they couldn't find another way, he knew he had to save his kingdom.

"Don't do it," Adam said with conviction. Dean raised an eyebrow. "People are going to die no matter what you do, right? Better to be alive helping than dead without the promise that everything will be okay."

Dean chuckled. No wonder Sam liked this guy so much. "Thanks, Adam." The younger man was grinning ear-to-ear. Dean realized that he'd probably never talked to someone even close to Dean's status with so much familiarity.

"Angle yourself with your sword," he found himself saying. "If you're going to learn to fight, you better do this family proud."

He got up and held Adam's wooden sword, showing him some pointers. Then he practiced sparring with him, laughing as Adam apologized profusely for getting a hit in. For the first time, he felt the fear and dread ebb away.

What if life could be like this? Just sparring with his half-brother, in the chilly air, maybe with Castiel sunning his wings and Sam reading under a nearby tree. Gabe would surely be trying to distract them, and later that night they'd eat the deer that Sam killed early that morning. Then he and Castiel would retire and lose themselves in each other and sleep peacefully for the rest of their lives.

If only it could be that simple.

Soon, the sparring ended and Dean returned to the library, where the three men continued to find nothing on saving the kingdom. The one option they had started to look better and better.

But he'd promised Castiel, and he couldn't take back that promise.

He guessed that he'd find out what would happen sooner rather than later.

A/N: Coming up next: they find out sooner.