Chapter Fifteen

Dean was hot and aching when he woke, and his mouth tasted dusty. He didn't have the energy to even open his eyes, but he wasn't particularly eager to move from deep in the feathery soft bed he was resting on. There were voices in the room, but he only recognised Castiel's. He let the sound wash over him, comforted by the soft, deep tone. He didn't pay attention to any of the actual words at first, but they soon came into focus.

'We should strike back before he reaches the north,' someone said hotly.

'We can't call the army and march north faster than him, especially not with his head start,' someone else said.

'It's imperative we act as though the goddess and I perished,' came Castiel's voice. 'It's the only way we can catch him off guard.'

The angry voice came again. 'He can't be allowed to get away with this.'

'He won't,' Castiel said soothingly.

'We should fortify the town guard at least.'

'You're right.' There was some rustling of paper, then Castiel spoke again. 'Recall all of our forces. Have the battalions patrolling the border evacuate the towns and villages along the way.'

'What will that accomplish?' the angry voice demanded.

'Keep your voice down,' Castiel said sharply. 'I imagine that in the event of my death, our forces would scramble to return and defend the heart of the kingdom until a new ruler was chosen.'

'But-'

'Do not misjudge me, General, Raphael will pay for this with nothing less than the full might of our kingdom, but we must do this the right way. If he wants war, he will have it, trust me on that.'

There was a ringing silence in the room, and the dryness in Dean's mouth was too much to bear.

He tried to roll over and find some water, but his bones all screamed in protest at once and Dean groaned loudly.

'You're dismissed,' Castiel said abruptly. 'Recall our forces. Now.'

'Yes, Your Majesty.'

The door opened and closed as the men left, and Dean opened his eyes just as Castiel drew back the curtains from around the bed.

'You look awful,' Castiel said sympathetically.

It took a moment for Dean's eyes to adjust to the light. 'I certainly feel it,' he said, his voice cracked and hoarse.

'You have a fever,' Castiel told him, pouring him a cup of water and holding it to his lips, careful not to touch him. 'It'll pass soon.'

Dean sipped the water gratefully. 'So,' Dean said, clearing his throat. 'We're going to war?'

Castiel sighed, lines worrying his forehead. 'Raphael can't be left to his own devices. He's too big a threat.'

'Right.' Dean watched Castiel's face for a moment. 'Are you sad?' he murmured, a wave of heat rolling through him.

'Usually, yes,' Castiel sighed. 'I'm hoping to minimise casualties, but there's no telling what Raphael will do.'

The rush of heat dissipated, and Dean was suddenly shivering violently.

'It'll pass,' Castiel said softly. 'Go back to sleep.'

Dean nodded, then suddenly remembered where he was. 'Where did you sleep?' he asked in concern.

'I didn't. There's too much to do, but that's not for you to be concerned about.'

'I'll rest if you will,' Dean said, though his eyes were already fluttering closed again.

Castiel chuckled. 'You'll probably be quite hungry when you next wake. Let me know what you'd like to eat when you do.'

'You're staying here?' Dean mumbled.

'Of course. I won't leave you.'

Dean sunk back into a deep sleep, slipping in and out of consciousness for the rest of the day. His fever finally broke late into the evening, and he did indeed wake with a ravenous hunger gnawing at his stomach. It was easier to move, and he managed to sit up, but his head was heavy and his movements sluggish. He looked around blearily. The curtains were all drawn, rain trickling down the doors that led to the balcony. A fire was burning in the grand fireplace, and Castiel was curled up in one of the chairs. He seemed to be fast asleep, but he opened his eyes as soon as he heard Dean stirring.

'I'm starving,' Dean groaned, massaging his empty stomach. 'Do you have any eggs?'

Castiel chuckled fondly. 'I'll see what I can do.' He left the room and quickly returned with a tray covered in several bowls, one of which was filled with scrambled eggs. He sat on the bed beside Dean, but as he did so, Dean's head spun.

Dean reached out to grab Castiel's arm, to steady himself, but Castiel snatched his arm away. Dean gave him a reproachful look, the small movement away from him feeling as much like a stab to the gut as the sword he'd taken did.

'I - I'm sorry,' Castiel mumbled, flustered. 'I've already felt this process once, I don't want to feel it again.'

'Oh,' Dean said quietly, his head still swimming. He understood, but he couldn't get rid of the sting in his heart.

'Eat your eggs, Dean,' Castiel said, getting up again, leaving the tray and turning his back on Dean.

Dean spooned some into his mouth, though he was no longer that hungry. He picked at the other bowls of food that Castiel had brought him for the next few hours, until his head stopped spinning. He tugged at the clothes he was wearing, feeling dirty and sticky, but he seriously doubted his ability to stand unaided.

'I'll get Sam,' Castiel said quietly, when Dean asked for help bathing.

Sam entered the room grinning, and came around the side of the bed. 'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'Better,' Dean nodded. 'Sweaty.'

'Lovely,' Sam snorted. 'Come on, let's get you to the baths.'

Dean took a deep breath and painfully brought his legs over the side of the bed. His joints were stiff and his feet were still numb. Sam took his weight, lifting him out of the bed.

'Wait, wait,' Dean said, clutching Sam tightly. He was light-headed as he rose, and pain shot from the soles of his feet all the way up to his hips.

'You can do it,' Sam encouraged.

'Gimme a moment,' Dean mumbled. 'When did you get so strong?' he asked, leaning heavily on Sam.

Sam grinned. 'I did a lot of training while you were away.'

Dean looked up at Castiel, who was watching him anxiously, chewing his fingernails. 'I can walk, I think,' he said, taking an experimental step. It was painful, and he didn't ease his grip on Sam, but he began to shuffle out of the door.

'Almost there,' Sam said as he helped Dean down the corridor. 'I didn't want to say this in front of the King, but you really smell.'

Dean snorted. 'Why do you think I wanted to get out of his bed? He can have the sheets changed in peace now.'

Sam laughed and let Dean take a break before the last few feet of their journey to the baths. They bumped into Charlie along the way, who looked delighted to see Dean.

'You look so much better,' she grinned. 'Do you want any help?'

'No, we've got it,' Sam said politely, before pulling Dean into the huge room that had several deep baths sunk into the stone floor.

The water had been recently heated and steam curled up into the air.

Sam lowered Dean onto the floor, then began helping him undress. 'You owe me after this,' he said.

'Please,' Dean said breathlessly, 'this is nothing compared to how many times I had to wash you. This is the least you can do.'

Sam rolled his eyes, but helped Dean slide into the water, sitting close by while Dean soaked in the warm water.

Dean sighed contentedly, but the water sucked out any energy he had left, so Sam had to help him wash too. He tried his best not to be embarrassed, and, to his credit, Sam put on a cheery smile the entire time.

'Is everything all right?' Castiel asked, poking his head around the door.

'Yes, thank you,' Sam said politely. He glanced down at Dean, who could no longer even speak and was struggling to keep his eyes open. 'Actually… could you find Ash for us? I just want to ask him something.'

Castiel looked confused, but went to do as Sam asked.

'Sorry, I can't get you out of there by myself,' Sam said to Dean. 'And it's only Ash.'

Dean's head lolled, rapidly falling asleep.

Ash arrived just in time and helped Sam drag Dean out of the bath, then helped dress him in clean clothes. He looked as though he was dying to ask questions, but held his tongue, and helped Sam carry Dean back to his own bed.

With fresh clothes and blankets, Dean was a lot more comfortable, but it was still several days before he could even get out of bed alone. By then, the atmosphere within the castle, and the town outside had tensed dramatically. More and more armed soldiers were arriving every day, bringing with them scared civilians who were carrying their lives on their backs. Dean rarely saw Castiel when they began to filter into the castle, and he attempted to organise food and places for all of them. Dean focused on his recovery, and the next time he saw Castiel was just over a week later, when he was finally able to swing a sword properly again.

Castiel himself looked exhausted, as he crept into Dean's room late in the night.

'Dean, I need to ask something of you,' Castiel murmured, sinking into one of the soft chairs before the fire.

Dean's heart leapt into his throat, and he sat opposite the King, trying not to stare at him.

'None of my spies can find anything about Raphael. I need Gabriel.'

Dean frowned. 'What do you mean, you need Gabriel?'

'He's the only one in the world that will know anything at all about Raphael's plans, how he kept Era's power, how strong he is…'

'Something tells me he's unlikely to just walk up here and tell you all about it,' said Dean.

'Exactly,' Castiel said, rubbing his forehead. 'That's where you come in… I want you to go north and get him.'

Dean balked. 'You want me to do what?'

'You can take whoever you need, I'm sure whatever's left of his forces will be no match for you-'

'Wait, wait,' Dean said, holding up a hand, the ache in his heart returning. 'You're sending me away?'

Castiel sighed, holding his head in his hands. 'Please, Dean, you're the only one I can trust to do this.'

'Let me get this right, you want me to sneak into openly rebellious and militarised territory, kidnap their proclaimed king and bring him back here unnoticed?'

'Yes.'

'No! Absolutely not, it'll never work.'

'It will,' Castiel said firmly. 'Gabriel's men are not trained or organised. Gabriel himself is mostly mouth, he couldn't lay a hand on you if he tried.'

Dean shook his head vigorously, swallowing. 'I don't want to leave you alone,' he mumbled, clasping his hands together, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

'I won't be alone. Charlie will be here.' He tried to give Dean a reassuring smile, but the immense sadness in his eyes made it empty. 'It's the perfect time, there's chaos on the roads, no one will notice you and a few others slipping past.'

Dean slumped back in his chair, the hurt curdling into anger, his jaw clenching. 'Fine,' he said shortly, avoiding Castiel's eyes. 'I'll take Ash, Alfie and Hannah. We'll go tomorrow night.'

'Thank you.' Castiel got up again and lingered at the door, but Dean refused to look at him. He sighed, brushing past Sam on his way out.

'Everything all right?' Sam asked suspiciously, noticing the scowl on Dean's face.

'Yep.' Dean got up and began packing once again. 'I've got to go and kidnap Gabriel, should be easy enough, right?'

Sam gaped at him. 'You're joking.'

'I wish.'

'When do you go?'

'Tomorrow night.'

Sam ran his hands through his hair. 'That's insane!'

Dean shrugged. 'As His Majesty commands, I suppose.'

'You can't actually go!' Sam exclaimed.

'What do you want, Sam? I can't ignore a direct order, and I think he would notice if I didn't go.'

'This is beyond idiotic,' Sam said, stomping back towards the door.

'He's the King, Sam, he can do whatever he wants.'

'I'm going to talk to him,' said Sam.

'Don't-' but it was too late, Sam had already stormed out of the room.

Dean groaned and threw himself down on his bed, abandoning his packing, letting his anger and hurt get the best of him.

Sam didn't return that night, nor did Dean see him the next day, which only served to worsen his mood. Dean finished his packing, and crept outside after nightfall, quietly retrieving his horse and saddlebags from the stables.

He met the others on the outskirts of town, all dressed in shabby cloaks.

'Everyone ready?' Dean murmured, and they all nodded, pulling their hoods over their heads. 'All right, let's go.'

'Wait!'

Dean whirled around and saw Sam running over to them, his own horse in tow.

'I'm coming too.'

'No. Absolutely not, it's way too dangerous.'

'Come on, Dean, I can take care of myself. Uriel and Anna gave me a sword and everything.'

'Did they now?' Dean said, narrowing his eyes at the new blade strapped to Sam's belt. 'Sounds like I need to have a talk with them.'

'We don't have time for this,' Hannah muttered, looking furtively around.

Dean bit his lip. 'All right,' he relented, 'but you do exactly what I say, understand?'

Sam grinned excitedly.

'Listen, I'm not your brother anymore, from this moment I'm your commanding officer, got it?'

Sam forced his face into a serious expression and nodded.

'Let's go,' Dean said gruffly, mounting his horse.

They trotted away from the town, sticking to the shadows as much as they could so that no one would see them leaving.

Dean led the way, staying several feet ahead of everyone else so he could avoid talking to them, his mood as black as the sky above them. He could hear them all muttering to each other behind him, Sam's voice excited at the prospect of an adventure.

There were few people on the road at that time of night, but anyone they came across was too engrossed in their own issues to take any notice of the small company passing them. By now, the storm had finally passed, and everything smelled fresh and clean, the stalks of grass on either side of the road gleaming in the moonlight.

Dean made them ride through the night and the next day, only stopping briefly for meals, until Sam's head began to loll early in the evening.

'Dean, I think we should stop,' Ash said in concern, once again elbowing Sam to keep him awake.

Dean tutted, but found a hidden spot in a small gully where they could rest. He crawled into his tent the moment it was set up, and didn't leave again, not even when he could smell Ash's cooking, or when the sound of laughter drifted through the entrance to his tent.

He quietly unrolled his bed and took off his cloak, but as he lay down, he realised with a jolt that he wasn't wearing Castiel's sigil. He leapt back up and began digging through his bags, sure he must have packed it somewhere, but all he found was a small leather pouch that he'd forgotten about. He opened it, and inside was the morning glory bloom that Castiel had grown for him, only now it was curled up, dried out and brown. He knelt on the floor, holding it carefully in his hand. His heart ached, tugging at him, urging him back to the castle, back to Castiel. It hurt so much that his eyes watered. He closed his fist over the flower and held it close to his chest, hoping it would ease the pain in his heart.

Wave after wave of longing hit him. He hadn't expected it, hadn't expected to feel his absence so deeply. He couldn't help but think of those nights he'd woken with Castiel in his arms, but when he did, warmth spread from his heart to his fingertips. He sniffed, the warmth pooling in his hands. He opened his fist again, and gasped. The morning glory was vividly blue again, its petals just as soft and vibrant as it had been when Castiel gave it to him.

'Did I do that?' he said in wonder, gazing down at it.

'Hey, Dean, I thought you might want some-' Ash ducked into the tent with a bowl in his hand, but stopped as he caught Dean hastily wiping his eyes. He sat down, putting the bowl to one side. 'I know that look,' he said sympathetically. 'Can't stand to be away from him, can you?'

Dean tucked the flower away. 'That obvious, is it?'

'Only to those who know what it feels like.'

'It just snuck up on me a bit, you know?'

Ash nodded. 'The best things always do,' he smiled. 'We'll get you back before you know it. Until then, try to remember to eat and sleep, I know it's hard.'

'I appreciate that.'

Ash pushed the bowl closer to Dean. 'It'll make you feel better.' He left the tent again, and Dean could hear him telling the others to go to sleep.

Still feeling oddly naked without Castiel's sigil pinned to him, Dean finally curled up on his bedroll. He held the morning glory to his face, so that the subtle scent could reach his nose. He closed his eyes, breathing it in. He ran his fingers across the soft petals, infusing it with the warmth in his heart. This must be how it felt when Castiel grew plants, and with that thought, Dean felt much closer to him. Finally comforted, he fell asleep with the flower resting in his palm.

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