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Chapter 38
Impala watches her master curiously as he walks from one tree to the other with a thoughtful expression on his face. Dean is busy recalling every small detail which Malphas has told him. There are some important things the young demon must remember.
"Remember, it is a different realm and time. Your usual demonic powers will not work there, but your connection with your mate will still be effective. You will not be able to teleport or use any other skills. Basically you will be as vulnerable as human. But there is something which you can take with you as a consolation. Take a handful of soil from the forest and wrap it in a cloth. Always keep it with you during your stay in the foreign land. It has healing powers. No wound or illness will affect you while you have it with you."
Dean exhales sharply, recalling Malphas' advice and starts to search for a spot where the ground is not too rocky or hard. He finds it near a blueberry bush and kneels to dig up and gather some soil. His hands work quickly and effectively, placing soft, crumbly soil on a blue handkerchief, which he always carries with him. He has gathered more than a handful, decides that it should be enough and ties accurate knots.
"Well, one thing is done." Dean huffs out a small laugh. "Now, time to do the rest." He puts the handkerchief in his pocket and walks to Impala. "I want you to be a good girl while I'm gone, alright, baby?" The young demon pets her head.
Impala stills for a second, but then she rears and neighs furiously, stamping the ground with her front legs. Her eyes flash thunder and lightning, nostrils fuming with rage. The beast looks anxious and heartbroken. How could her master do this to her?
"Baby, please," Dean croons and tries to calm the horse down. "I know you want to come with me, but it's too dangerous. Please understand, I can't take you with me. I'm sorry, I am so sorry!" He kisses her forehead and combs her mane tenderly.
Impala snorts and neighs pitifully, nudging her master in the shoulder. Dean's heart sinks and his stomach twists when he sees a tear rolling down Impala's cheek. The demon knows how hard it is for her to let him go alone. It's not like Dean will feel better without her, but he can't take risks. If the foreign realm blocks his demonic powers and magic skills, it would affect Impala too, as she's not an ordinary horse. Who knows what monsters and creatures are awaiting him in the other world? What if they can kill his horse with one strike? No, he can't let that happen. Impala will stay here; Sammy will take care of her until he returns. The decision is severe, but justified. At least, he thinks so.
"You need to go, my precious. Go home. Sammy will take care of you and wait for me. I'll be back, I promise, and I'll bring back Cas. You like him, don't you?" Dean whispers to her, scratching between her ears soothingly.
Impala nods, making some pitiful sound in the back of her throat, still upset that Dean isn't taking her with him. It's unbelievable how strongly connected they are: the master and his horse. It's not a surprise, as they grew up together. Impala was a special gift to Dean from his father. She was a tiny little foal when John gave her to his four-year-old son as a birthday gift. Since then, they have not been separated. Even when Alastair captured and brought him to his fortress, Dean's demand was to have Impala by his side.
The horse knows that Dean is a very stubborn creature and she will not make him change his mind. She just nuzzles her head against his chest, nickering softly, as if asking Dean to stay safe.
"I promise, baby, I will be fine. Don't worry about me. Now go, it's getting dark." Dean looks around, searching for the sun. It's almost sunset and he needs to hurry up.
He knows perfectly well that there is no beast that could harm Impala; she is way too fast for them to chase and catch up with her. But still, she needs to go, so he can continue without a heavy heart.
Dean gives her one final kiss on the forehead and smacks her on the rump. "Go!"
Impala turns around and lets out a long, deafening neigh, saying goodbye to her master before breaking into a fast gallop. Dean lets out a shuddering breath and reaches for his other pocket, where he has a small folded skin with a spell written on it. Yes, it's still there, he hasn't lost it. But he needs to draw a circle first and pour his blood over the lines. He searches for a plain, grassless surface, which is not easy, but finally he succeeds.
"Hah, this is going to need a lot of blood," Dean chuckles, looking at a circle he has just drawn in the mud using a stick. "But you are worth of all my blood, Cas - my blood, my breath, my life." He quickly slashes his palm, making sure that the wound is deep enough to draw out a sufficient amount of blood.
Dean clenches his fist and passes it over the circle he drew, letting the blood drip down into its lines, watching the small red streams connect with each other to form one big unbroken chain.
"Perfect." Dean smirks, taking the golden amulet off of his neck. He carefully places it in the middle of the circle and pulls the skin out of his pocket, quickly healing his bleeding palm while he still can, and reads the spell.
"Ekh mosh zoaru acineteia Castiel, ebo loary moroadesh. Elibo reinozadeth ahorish."
The ground starts to quake, a mighty wind blows and howls, making hundred-year-old trees double over and breaking their branches. There are cracks appearing within the circle and instinctively Dean backs off, grabbing the amulet before it falls and vanishes into the darkness. The ground opens up, revealing a black hole in the middle and the demon gulps nervously. He grasps the hilt of his sword tightly, waiting for a while. When nothing jumps out of the pit, he makes a step forward.
"I'm coming Cas," he whispers and closes his eyes, making a step forward into the roaring darkness.
He cannot see anything; it's pitch dark around him. He can only feel. Feel how he keeps falling and falling and falling. He does not know how long it lasts and frustration rises in him, thinking that it's endless falling, when he crashes into something. The collision is so hard that he passes out.
"Dean…"
The voice sounds so familiar.
"Dean, where are you?"
He makes a painful groan and tries to inhale with his mouth, but it gets filled with sand and he's thrown into a coughing fit.
"I miss you so much. I pray that you are safe, Dean…"
His eyes snap open and he sits up abruptly. "Cas? Is that you? Cas, where are you? Damn it!" Dean jumps up and tries to see something, anything around him. The moonlight is enough for him to see some of his surroundings. There is only silence and lots of sand around him. A slight breeze blows, tossing sand into his face, and he's forced to pull the hood of his cape over his eyes.
"Please be safe. I love you…"
"Castiel!" Dean yells. "Tell me where you are! Say the name of the place! Cas, for the love of everything that is holy to you. Say the name of the place. Where should I search for you?" The demon grabs his head in desperation, fighting a mighty urge to start howling from frustration. "Come on, Cas. You can do it. Please… please say the name of the place…"
The answer never comes and Dean shouts curses at the skies above this damn realm. He falls down on his knees, banging his fists in the yellow sand. This is going to be a long, hard road, he assumes. It's not like he would come here, see Castiel, and take him back.
As he bangs his fists in the sand out of frustration one more time, he feels a sharp pain in his left hand, like thousands of needles pricked the skin at the same time.
"What the…" Dean growls and narrows his eyes. There is a thick, yellow snake near his hand, rearing and ready for the next attack.
"You damn fucker," the demon snarls, grabbing it in the blink of an eye and tearing it apart. "Serves you right!"
The demon laughs out loud. He's so grateful to Malphas, who advised to take the soil from the forest, as he already feels his magic skills are deeply asleep. Dean sucks out the venom from the bite, spitting it out angrily. His hand fumbles in the pocket of his trousers, taking the handkerchief out and pressing it to the wound. The cool silk feels nice against his irritated, hot skin and the young demon feels how the soil heals him.
"I hope I won't be walking through this sand forever," he mutters under his breath and decides to keep moving forward until he sees any signs of life. Humans, demons, animals, whatever. He just does not want to be all alone. And that's when he regrets not taking Impala with him. Maybe he made a mistake? Dean shakes his head. No, she'd better stay with Sam and be safe.
The demon keeps walking, moving through the numerous hills of sand of this vast space. The silence is driving him crazy and his nerves are strained when he hears a muffled cry.
"Help me…"
Hmm, he knows this language. But from where? Then he recalls that he speaks every existing language and huffs. Sam is right, he's an idiot. Well, sometimes. Dean rushes over to the place where the sound is coming from and he finds a man lying in the sand, beaten and bloody. When he sees Dean, the man starts flailing.
"No, no, don't hurt me, please!"
Dean raises his hands. "Hey, hey, calm down. I won't hurt you! I want to help you. What happened?"
The man swallows hard and rasps out, "Our caravan was robbed. The robbers killed my assistants and took all of our goods and some of our camels. A few animals escaped and are running somewhere in this desert. The robbers thought I was dead and left."
Dean nods. "I need to check your wounds. I can help." He gets closer to see the man's wounds, and pulls his hood down to cover his glowing green eyes. No need to terrify this poor soul.
The wounds are deep and the man has lost a lot of blood, but he seems strong and will not die. The demon pulls out his handkerchief; this should work on humans too.
"Alright, this may seem strange, but it will help. Hopefully." He adds the last word only to himself.
He cuts the man's white robe, parting its edges, revealing two wounds, one on his chest and the other one on his stomach.
"What are you doing?" the man croaks, looking at the stranger with unfocused eyes.
"Hold on. Let's hope it works," Dean answers and places a small amount of soil on the wounds. The man hisses at the touch, but he's too tired and weak to fight it off. His hissing quickly dies out when he feels that something is happening.
"I… I feel better," he says, awed. "What did you do to me? And who are you?" he whispers, bewildered.
"My name is Dean, and I am here to find someone who is very dear to me. Let's see if it worked."
The wounds are gone. This soil is truly amazing. Dean sits down near the man, putting the handkerchief into his pocket.
"Do you want to tell me your name, stranger?" He looks at the man beside him.
"I'm a merchant and my name is Amir Ibn Khaled," replies the stranger.
And if something tugs at Dean's heart after hearing the man's name, he does not show it.