Chapter 4
Age 21
The harvest season was drawing to a close, which meant the Festival was going to start in a few weeks. Already there were merchants trundling through the Central Square. They were mostly peddlers selling 'exotic' wares with names longer than the distance they'd traveled. Swindlers, all of them, but they made the children laugh so no one really minded. Dean would have someone keep an eye on the tumblers from Savoy. There'd been rumors of child abductions following them around. First, though, there was a messenger from Thousand Port waiting in the Blue Room and about a hundred disgruntled petitioners waiting outside the Great Hall.
Jesse came running down from the battlements as soon as Dean rode through the gate.
"My Lord," the page panted, red in the face underneath the layers of the ridiculous uniform he insisted on keeping.
"Whoa there, Jesse. Take a breath before you faint." Dean swung himself off Impala's back and a groom led her to the stables.
Jesse obediently sucked in a lungful of air and held it until Dean began to worry about the state of his head.
"Let it out, boy," Dean ordered and Jesse exhaled loudly. "Now tell me what's going on."
"They're back!" Jesse blurted out, hands gesturing wildly in patterns Dean couldn't make out.
"Who's back?" Dean prompted, peeling off his riding gloves as he headed towards the kitchens for a quick snack before he had to make his appearance before the people.
"Everyone!" Jesse trotted at his heels. "Her Highness the Queen, His Graciousness Prince Samuel, High Wiz―"
"Where?" Dean snapped, swinging around on his heel and catching his page before the boy could crash into him. "Damn it, Jesse. Always lead with the most important facts. Where are they?"
"The Great Hall!"
Dean rushed away before Jesse finished speaking. He could hear the boy running after him, falling behind with each step, but he didn't have time to wait for his page. The fact that they were back could only mean one thing: Lucifer had found them.
It was inevitable of course, but there was a stagnant part of Dean that believed that this was the way it would always be, that Mary and Sam and the Wizards would run until they all died with gray hair and wrinkled skin. But now the question was only what had happened. Dean tried to have faith, to believe that the dissipation spell had worked, but he couldn't stop picturing his brother lying dead and broken.
The petitioners must have been sent home because there was only a group of ten guards at the entrance of the Great Hall, and they opened the great wooden doors as they saw him coming.
Once inside, the doors slammed shut behind him. The vaulted ceilings of the Great Hall rose high above him. The room seemed massive and silent once empty of people. His father was sitting at a trestle table to his left, head bent over someone unmoving and still laid out on the table top. Dean ran over, heart in his throat.
"Mom?" he said quietly as he stopped himself at the table's edge. Mary was laid out peacefully, golden hair fanning out around her face. A bandage was wound around her shoulder, a spot of blood blooming at the center. Dean's hand fluttered uselessly over her face, feeling her warmth, checking her pulse. He only took a breath when he was able to feel her do the same, a faint inhale and exhale that tickled the back of his hand.
"What happened?" he asked, but there was no one to answer him. His father's head remained bowed, both of his hands clasped around Mary's. He didn't look up when his eldest son spoke, but kept muttering - a prayer perhaps. Dean had never known his father to adhere to any particular religion, but if there was any time to start, this would be it.
There was only one other person in the room that was upright. Raphael stood at the other side of the hall. From the dark hair and the flowing robe, Dean figured that it was Michael that lay on the table in front of him. It made sense that Raphael would try to wake his father first. The two of them could work much quicker than Raphael by himself.
Dean gave his mother one more pat on the shoulder, reassuring himself that she was just sleeping, before he searched for his brother. Sam was just one table over, hair floppier than Dean had ever seen it before. Sam really did just look like he was sleeping. Mary had a sort of stillness to her, but even awake she radiated calm. His brother was a different matter. His face was scrunched up, like he was dreaming of skunks or rotten food. His fingers twitched and his limbs were sprawled in every which direction. Still, Dean leaned down over his face, feeling his breathing against his skin.
"Everything will be righted," Dean said quietly into his brother's ear, though he could have just as easily been talking to himself. "You're home now."
He stayed there by his brother's side for a few moments, patting down his chest and limbs, making sure he wasn't injured. Miraculously, Sam was unhurt, but maybe that was Lucifer's arrogance. The dark Wizard didn't need to do anything physical to Sam. He just had to speak the words to cast the second Mark, but even that had been thwarted by Cas' little dissipation trick.
Dean looked around the room for Cas, but he couldn't tell which robe was his. He laid Sam's hand on his stomach before moving on. Anna was the next closest. She had a swath of hair burned off the side of her head, and patches of her robe were singed, but there didn't seem to be anything else wrong with her. He gave her a silent nod of thanks.
Gabriel's skin was a violent purple, like he'd gone swimming in a tub of wine. There was a lazy grin on his face and a line of drool trickling down the side of his face. Dean could only assume he was having good dreams.
There were two more sleeping bodies between Gabriel and Michael. One was wearing the same Wizards' robes as the rest of them, but the other was wearing a suit of white. He'd never seen the man before. He had sandy blond hair, trimmed severely at the temples. A burn mark cut nastily across his chin in one spot and Dean couldn't help a petty thought of triumph. This must be Lucifer, taken down by his own damned spell. They'd hoped, of course, that Lucifer would be caught in the shock wave of the spell. Not only did it save Sam's life, it captured the greatest dark Wizard of their age.
Dean didn't spare another moment on the man who'd been casting a shadow over their lives since he was four.
"We did it, Cas," he said grinning as he looked down at the last table. Castiel lay straight and stiff, like he was still ready for a fight. There was even a little frown still creasing his forehead. Was that how he always looked when he slept? Or was that just a state reserved for magic-induced comas? Dean reached out and smoothed out his brow. Cas had a cut across his cheek and some scratches on his hand, but there didn't seem to be anything else wrong with him. Having made his rounds, Dean settled down at the table.
He slung one leg up onto the bench and rubbed lazy circles in the back of Cas' palm with his thumb. Cas would wake up and they'd all celebrate. Walker had spotted a black boar in the forest that would make a delicious meal, and there were always plenty of pheasants for Sam. They could even slaughter an ox for those steaks that Cas liked so much. The nobles would probably demand a tournament or something else grandiose to celebrate the return of the Queen and the Prince, but first they'd do something private, a family affair.
Then Dean could apologize to Cas and fix what he broke that night on his birthday. None of Gabriel's arguments were valid anymore. He wouldn't be some transient in Cas' life any more. They'd be constant and steady like they had been before they left. Except Dean wouldn't just be getting a friend back. This time when he kissed Cas, the Wizard wouldn't have any good reason to push him away.
Michael woke up with a gasp. He shot upright, eyes wild as he took in his surroundings. Once he seemed to recognize the Great Hall and his eldest son standing beside him, he relaxed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Good job," he said, patting Raphael on the shoulder. "Show me what you did."
"Mary first," John commanded from across the hall.
Dean followed the Wizards to stand by his mother and watched as Raphael showed his fathers the adjustments he'd made to the waking spell they'd developed mostly through guesswork. When Mary woke up, she blinked placidly and smiled. Dean caught her hand as she reached up towards him and helped her sit upright, careful with her shoulder.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Like I drank too much honey mead and not enough water," she said with a laugh, bringing one hand up to rub at her temple.
Dean choked out a laugh. He'd never seen his mother drunk. Maybe that would change now.
"Sam?" she asked, and they all moved on to the next table.
Sam's eyes fluttered open languorously, rolling over onto one side and squeezing his eyes shut against the bright lights. "I'm up," he groaned and slung an arm over his eyes.
"Come on, lazy pants," Dean prodded and Sam's eyes flew open as he bolted upright.
"Dean?"
"What, forgot your big brother already?"
"We're home!" Sam cheered and grabbed Dean in an embrace the knocked the air out of his lungs.
"Yeah," Dean coughed. "What have they been feeding you out there? Look at those arms."
Sam rubbed at his own biceps sheepishly. "I've been training."
"On your own?" Dean asked, skeptical.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Basically. Gabriel is more of a human target than a sparring partner, Cas cheats with his magic, and Anna just spends the whole time knocking me on my ass."
"That's how you know you're learning." Dean chuckled. "You should thank her."
"I will. Where is she? And Gabriel. And Cas."
"Coming right up. Come on, Sammy. Let's go welcome them back to the land of the living."
Anna woke first under Raphael's hand. She bolted upright and scanned the room with sharp eyes, still battle-ready. Only the sight of Lucifer lying prone two tables of way made her relax. A moment later her hand flew to her head. "My hair," she groaned.
"Oh sweetie," Mary said with a laugh. "It'll grow back."
"It looks good!" Sam chimed in.
Anna shot him a grateful if unbelieving smile.
Gabriel woke up with an exaggerated yawn, joints popping one by one as he stretched them. With one purple arm flung over his eyes, he mumbled, "Did we win?"
"See for yourself, you lazy arse," Anna snapped, swinging herself off the table to lay a solid smack against Gabriel's chest.
"Oh good. If you're still alive, Lucifer must be dead," Gabriel sighed and dragged himself upright.
Dean expected them to move to Cas after that, but the four of them stood clustered in a circle, arguing over something he couldn't make out.
"Hey!" he called. "Can't that wait for another five minutes?" When they turned to look at him, jerked his head at the youngest Wizard.
They didn't move.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" They weren't done yet. How could they just stand around talking when the last of them was still conked out? Lucifer, he understood. For all Dean cared, Lucifer could sleep until he rotted into dust, but Cas deserved, if nothing else, to be part of their little circle of Wizard disagreement.
Anna and Raphael glanced at their father. Gabriel opened his mouth, like he was about to speak, but Michael shushed him before he could say anything.
"There was a change in circumstances that we didn't inform you of." The High Wizard turned to the king and queen. "Any of you."
"What do you mean, Michael?" Mary said slowly.
Dean didn't know what to make of it. The Wizards stood with blank faces, staring coldly at the opposite wall. John had a frown on his face and Mary was looking frantically between them all. And all the color had drained from Sam's face.
"Sam?" Dean said.
"I'm not sure," Sam said, chewing on his lip, thinking. "Cas did something."
"What?" Dean asked, frustrated. He wished that Michael would just spit it out instead of making him wait. Whatever he had to say couldn't be as bad as this suspense. Cas was breathing. Dean was sure of that much, but there was still something bad going on and Michael was trying to create tension or find the right words or some other useless stalling tactic.
"Castiel used his Promise to cast a spell on Sam."
"We know," Dean spat. "The dissipation spell."
"No," Michael said, shaking his head. "Castiel cast a transference spell on Sam."
"A transfer―" Dean whipped around to stare at the sleeping Wizard. "He took it?"
"A Mark can't be erased. It's protected by the Geas itself, but it can be moved. Castiel managed to unbind the Mark from Sam and move it onto himself."
"But Sam's fifteenth birthday. You cast that spell on him," Dean argued. It didn't make sense.
"A ruse, I'm afraid," Michael sighed. "We needed Raphael there to cast the dissipation spell on Castiel. The ceremony involving Sam was nothing more than nonsense chanted over a few candles."
"So that's why he was stuck in the back room? Why you wouldn't let me see him?" Dean didn't wait for an answer before turning to his mother. "Did you know?"
He didn't need to hear her answer. Her face was as pale and stricken as if she had been slapped. "When did this happen?" she demanded.
"Just before my fourteenth birthday," Sam answered for Michael. "Cas told me he was just testing something, but it felt different than before. It felt like he was shaking something inside of me. He threw up after that, but he just said he'd eaten something he shouldn't have." Sam looked furious and all of it was directed at Michael. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't any of you tell me? This is my life! You have no right to make these decisions for me."
"We felt it safest to keep it among the five of us," Raphael said. "The chance that one of us would tell―"
"Raphael," Michael snapped and Raphael shut his mouth with a grimace. Michael turned back to Dean. "Castiel did not tell us until after he cast the spell. He felt you would disagree with his choice, so he did not tell you. By the time the rest of us knew, the damage had been done. There would be no purpose in informing any of you other than create conflict and risk a leak in information. In order to capture Lucifer, we couldn't let him know that we'd managed to remove his Mark from you."
Sam opened his mouth to protest again but Dean rushed in before him. "So what happens to Castiel now? Why aren't you waking him up?"
"We can't," Michael said.
"We haven't even tried," Gabriel added petulantly.
"We can't try," Raphael shot back.
"Why not?" Dean demanded.
"It's too dangerous," Raphael said abruptly.
Anna rolled her eyes. "What my brother is trying to say is that Lucifer will wake up if we wake Castiel, since he's the origin of the curse, which is also why we're not sure if the same spell that woke the rest of us would work on him."
"Well, you could try," Dean bit out.
"And we'd have a dark Wizard loose in the Great Hall. I would call that unwise," Raphael sneered.
"Then toss him in the dungeons first!"
"You think iron bars will hold him?"
"You brought that man into my castle," John interjected calmly before Dean and Raphael could start screaming at each other. "I expect you have a plan to deal with him."
"We do." Michael nodded. "I just need a few days to set up the appropriate wards to contain him."
"Maybe you should have done that in the first place," Dean muttered.
Michael shot him a venomous glare but didn't care to explain himself.
"Michael, I expect you to take charge of securing the dark Wizard. I also expect to see you resuming your duties at court. You have my gratitude for saving my lady wife and my son." John placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and bowed his head towards the Wizards as a group. "For now, we all have duties we must attend to. I will need the Great Hall to greet Lady Moseley. Dean, you may take petitions in my stead in the Small Hall."
Dean opened his mouth to protest. He knew his father had no great love for Castiel. The Wizard had always been just one of many in the king's eyes, disposable if not for the Oath he'd sworn to Sam. But this treatment was callous, even for him. Mary grabbed Dean's wrist and looked up at him. "There's nothing you can do for him in this instant," she murmured. "The kingdom still has needs. You can see him afterwards. And who knows. Maybe he'll wake up as soon as Lucifer is put behind wards."
Dean wanted to argue with her. He wasn't useless. There had to be something he could do. He'd been the one to find the book that saved Sam. He could do the same for Cas, he just needed some time. But she was right. It could be that simple. In a few days, with Lucifer secured, Michael would try the waking spell on Cas and he could pop right up no worse for the extra sleep. So Dean cast one last glance at his friend and headed to the Small Hall.
Four days later, with Lucifer contained the night before, they discovered that it wasn't that simple.
Dean was in chambers for half the day. There were land disputes, trade disputes, marriage disputes, the same disputes that had been happening for years. Dean was agitated as they sat down in the morning, impatient with the speaker before they'd even made their complaint. His mood only grew worse as they reached impasse after impasse until he'd stormed out in a rage. For once, his father let him go. He wasn't helping matters proceed.
That night was the feast, the big celebration of the Queen and Prince's return and the Dark Wizard's capture. Half of the nobles at the table didn't even know Michael had more sons past Raphael.
Dean's plan was to get drunk. He needed that rush, that giddiness that came with honeyed wine and mead. If he had a choice, he'd be in a tavern, looking for a fight, a little adrenaline to get his sluggish blood moving through his veins. Maybe that'd be enough to get him out of this slump. Instead he was sitting here, trying to smile, his brother seated silently to his right, neither of them doing more than pushing their food around their plates. With every course, he grew more morose, and when the jugglers came in from the wings, he excused himself altogether.
The raucous laughter disappeared behind him as he climbed the steps of the Wizard's Tower. Anna was the only one there. The Wizards took turns monitoring their youngest. They kept him hydrated, fed, clean, and warm, but they couldn't keep him alive for much longer. Castiel had two or three weeks at most before his body would simply give up. No one could sleep for eternity.
The simple bedroom was lined with books, charts, and drawings. A lonely crate of Castiel's personal effects sat in the corner. No one had unpacked it. Dean stormed past Anna with every intention of giving Cas a piece of his mind. He'd been preparing for this ever since the emissary from Thousand Port started talking about fish stocks and every time the speech ran through his head it grew longer and full of questions.
iThis was damned reckless of you, Cas. You were always the dependable one. I trusted you and you tossed that in the mud. Why couldn't you trust me the same way? And I don't just mean keeping these secrets. I mean why you did this in the first place. I know I was excited about the book, but if it wasn't the answer, you could have told me. We would have figure out something else together. So what was it? Desperation? Resignation? You should have talked to me. You should have said something, anything, because this? This isn't a solution. Trading your life for Sam's isn't the answer. Never was. If you thought otherwise then you're wrong and the birds must have chewed holes in your brain./i
Dean had thought it'd be easier with Castiel unable to interrupt with a sharp comeback, but it was all pointless if he couldn't hear, couldn't answer. Those limp hands and slack jaw made Dean feel sick. Instead, he turned to the unpacked crate and started rifling through Castiel's life.
Some things were familiar - a pointed hat embroidered with tiny angels, an old book with the corners so frayed that the pages were nearly round, a chain with a silver goshawk dangling at the center - but not most. There was a braided cuff from the Red Desert, a set of paintings that changed color in the light, a dagger edged in Meridian silver. And at the bottom of the crate were letters, stacks and stacks of them, black ink on thin, transparent paper. They weren't in envelopes, just folded and tied together in neat little bundles.
Dean jumped when he heard Anna speak behind him. He pulled his hand back quickly, guilty for being caught.
"He would write one every Friday," she said. "Gabriel teased him for keeping a diary, but Castiel would say that they were letters."
Dean wet his lips. "Who was he writing to?"
Anna shrugged.
Dean glanced at the letter again, curious, but didn't reach for them. "Do you have news?" he asked instead.
"No," she said wearily. The firelight flickered and Dean could make out the dark circles under her eyes.
"Anything I can do?" He was asking the same questions over and over, stuck in a ditch, trying to dig his way out with no shovel and no idea of which way was up.
"You could keep reading but, the only magic that could possibly counteract a Blessing is a second Blessing and―" Her defeat was written clearly in her shoulders. Dean understood. Blessings were a luxury afforded only to the royal line. Sam had a chance. Cas didn't.
"Then what is Michael doing? He's been holed up in his office all day!"
Her hands trembled before she caught the edge of her sleeve. "Experiments," she said simply and turned away.
Dean couldn't stay there after that. It was no better than sitting in a room with a corpse. Instead, he found his way to the nearest tavern outside the castle walls. Even here there were revelers, with rounds being called in the name of the Queen. After a while, it didn't matter what they were saying. His head swam and his legs gave out and he might have punched someone. He didn't know how long he lay drooling in the alehouse before men in black and silver hauled him from the tavern and back into the castle. They dumped him in a room that was familiar but he hadn't seen in a long time.
"Sammy!" he drawled. "I'm so happy―" He tried to tell Sam how glad he was they were back, that he was safe, but he couldn't quite get his tongue to finish a sentence.
"You're not happy, Dean," Sam grimaced and poured a mugful of water. "You're drunk."
The cold water jolted some sense back into him and he came up spluttering. "What in the King's name are you doing, Sam?"
"I should ask you the same thing. Do you have nothing better to do than get into drunken brawls?"
Dean curled in on himself and groaned. It hurt his head to think. "Nothing I can do," he said.
Sam sighed and dragged Dean up into the bed. Sam's bed, Dean thought and smiled slightly. It was finally getting some use after so long.
"Fine, then you can lay here like a useless lump," Sam said. Dean nodded dumbly. He was useless. He couldn't do anything. All he could do was get sloppy drunk and vomit over some poor barmaid before punching the guy next to him in the face. Sam kept talking, though. "But Cas never gave up on me. I'm not going to give up on him."
Dean tried to tell him it was impossible, but the words stuck in his throat. He had no hope himself, but he could cling to a scrap of Sam's.
Sam's plan, it turned out, wasn't so much Sam's plan as it was one of Gabriel's hare-brained schemes.
"You want to what?" Dean snarled, fist slamming the breakfast table so hard that the plates jumped. "He's the one who put us in this mess in the first place."
"Yeah," Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. "So maybe he might know how to get us out of it. Mikey's been telling me stories about old uncle Lucy. He might be dark magic incarnate, but he is smart. Maybe he built himself a backdoor."
"Or he triggers his own backdoor and kills us all."
Gabriel, at least, paused to give this possibility some consideration, but Sam blazed straight through, shaking his head. "I think Gabriel is right. Lucifer could have just left after he was banished, but he didn't. He wants something from us."
"He hasn't made any demands," Dean argued.
"Every time he's come near us, we attack, banish him, drive him away. He never gets the chance to make demands."
"Troll's blood," Dean hissed and dragged a hand through his hair. "If he had demands he would have gotten them to us." Michael had placed wards all over Lucifer's cell. He should have no more power than a common man while trapped inside. But if the stories were true, Lucifer had always been stronger than Michael, and had an extra edge of cunning and wit. Who knew how long the wards would hold once he woke up? If they broke, Gabriel would have no chance of holding him off.
And still Dean was considering it. "Does this plan have Michael's approval?"
Gabriel and Sam glanced sideways at each other.
Dean sighed. "What about Anna? Or Raphael?"
"We haven't asked them yet," Sam admitted.
"Hey," Gabriel protested, puffing up a little, though it was ridiculous since even Sam was taller than he was. "I was going to at least consult with Raphael, make sure I knew how to perform the counterspell. Give me some credit. And think of it this way, Deanie. We get that spell off of old Lucy and you can work out some of your manly rage with your fist against his face."
"And Anna would help us!" Sam added. "I know she would."
"But not Michael," Dean reminded him blandly.
"Dad's a little biased," Gabriel winced. "Can't imagine any of their family gatherings could have been any fun for him."
"Give me one good reason we should do this."
Sam just looked him in the eye with all the confidence of a younger brother who never had his heart broken by the people he trusted. "Because it's Cas."
And really, that was enough for Dean.
Lucifer's grin was feral. The chains didn't bother him. Nothing did. Instead, he sat in the middle of the cold stone cell as if the iron bars that held him were just the pillars of his throne room. He might be a madman, but he knew what he wanted.
"Lucifer," Raphael said coolly.
"No," Lucifer interrupted with a single finger held between them. "I am not here to speak with you."
Dean could practically see Raphael's hackles rising. "Then who―"
"Samuel," Lucifer interrupted again with a lilt in his voice. "I didn't expect to see you... well, alive."
"You don't have to say anything," Dean cut in before Sam could speak.
"And Dean." Lucifer turned his sun-bright smile on the other Prince standing outside his cell. "It's a shame we haven't had the chance to meet before."
"It really is too bad I never got the chance to ram my blade through your chest." Dean's hand clenched reflexively around the hilt of his sword. If they didn't need this snake of a man to cooperate, he'd already have sheathed his weapon in his blood.
"Can you see nothing past the length of your sword arm?" Lucifer sighed. "That's your problem."
"What's my problem?" Dean snapped, though he knew he was playing right into Lucifer's hands.
"Not your problem personally. It's a problem shared by all the people. There exists in each of you a degree of arrogance and entitlement. You all believe yourselves better than those you put down. You never stop to think that you might be wrong."
"Oh, believe me, I know I don't always make the best decisions," Dean said with a grimace. He was regretting this already. "But we're not here to talk about me. I want to give you the chance to make a choice."
"Really," Lucifer mocked. "Let me guess. Either I do what you want me to do or you, what is it you have planned? Hanging? Beheading? Oh! Torture?" Lucifer winked conspiratorially. "Tell me. What is your wish, my lord?"
Dean knew what type of man Lucifer was; he had met the same sort on the field. They would goad and wheedle and poke until their opponent grew angry and made a mistake, leaving themselves open. It wasn't a trick that would work now. "You will give us the counterspell to the Mark of the Wretched," Dean said calmly.
"Oh?" Lucifer said blandly, but his dull mask of indifference fell away after a moment, curling up into a sly smile. "You know, Dean, it was always supposed to be you. Had you been born just two years later, then Michael would have the crown prince traipsing across the world. That was another surprise." Lucifer chuckled. "I didn't expect dear Michael to be so involved."
"Tell us what you want!" Sam piped up before Dean could stop him.
"What I want?" Lucifer looked at them all through sandy lashes, his easy manner suddenly falling away to reveal his sharp edges. "I wanted the Crown Prince in my noose and the Campbell queen dead. I wanted John on his knees begging for me to save the alliance."
The blue of Lucifer's eye seemed to bleed in the dim light, his entire person softening at once. "After all, a father would do anything to save his firstborn son." His lips curled up. "But alas, all I could get my hands on was the spare. But this might work after all." He spread his arms and crossed his legs at the ankles like a martyr waiting to be drawn up the iron cross. "And after that, things started falling in place. You fell for the poor little gypsy girl who was too distraught to notice a few additions to her papa's library. You figured out the little dissipation spell. Beautiful work, by the way. I hadn't planned on my littlest nephew taking the fall, Cas is it? But that doesn't seem to matter now."
"You're stalling," Dean said impatiently, fuming internally at having played directly into Lucifer's plans.
"Oh no," Lucifer said, grinning expansively. "I'm not stalling. I've irevelling/i."
"It doesn't matter," Dean growled. "How do we save him?"
"I assume you know your history, proper Winchester heirs that you are. I will also assume you have an adequate grasp of the workings of the Geas. For example," Lucifer said, tenting his fingers under his chin. "Blessings are the strongest form of magic currently available to your indentured Wizard. A Blessing cannot be undone, a concept which I'm sure you're more than well acquainted with."
Dean let out an entirely appropriate growl, moving slightly to place himself between the caged Wizard and his younger brother.
"But there are portions of the Geas that you have not been exposed to. No, the King wouldn't want that, and my brother, odd little boy that he was, wouldn't want that either. You see, Michael was always chained to his pedestal atop Mage Peak. He always thought he was better than your average hedgewitch, in both magic ability and mental capacity. They couldn't be trusted. After all, the Mage Wars are the perfect testament to their savage nature."
"What does any of that have to do with Cas?"
Lucifer blinked twice and chuckled to himself. "iCastiel/i. I see. You must understand the nature of the Marks. The Geas isn't just a big rock in an empty chapel inscribed with a treatise of surrender carved hundreds of years ago. The Geas is the strongest piece of magic, stolen from every witch, mage, and Wizard on the continent and anchored in the earth itself. The Geas itself provides the power behind the Blessings. That is why they never weaken, never fade, and why an eight-year-old with only the very basic understanding of what they are doing can grant a lifetime of health and charm. I can't help you, you see, because I'm not the one holding the power. The curse is firmly rooted in the Geas itself and there is only one way to dig it out."
Lucifer was far blunter than the dignitaries Dean was used to dealing with. Usually he'd be guessing whether a man wanted military assistance, a marriage pact, or simply to test the mettle of the next Winchester in line for the throne. This request was practically spelled out for him. Only the complete absurdity of the suggestion kept him hesitant.
"You want to undo the Geas?" he said incredulously.
"Exactly." Lucifer beamed.
"Is that even possible?" Sam whispered, staring at him with wide eyes.
"Of course," Lucifer scoffed. "It was never meant to last forever. I'm sure you've noticed that no treatise ever does."
"No," Raphael said firmly, ignoring Lucifer's caustic glare. "We can't do that. The consequences are too great!"
"And what are the consequences?" Dean asked.
"A clean slate," Lucifer said firmly, spreading his empty palms like he was offering a gift. "Everyone is given a chance to start over. The remnants of the war will be erased from the land. Any spell, Blessings included, will be null."
"And every mage, witch, and Wizard will have their power back," Raphael said hotly.
Lucifer inclined his head in agreement. "As it was always meant to be."
"I," Dean stammered then stopped. This was too big for him. His father didn't even let him welcome ambassadors by himself, much less decide the fate of the entire kingdom. "I'll consider your suggestion," he said, trying not to sound weak in front of this powerful man. He turned to the Wizards. "Anna, get out of here. You don't need to take a nap. Gabe, put him back to sleep."
They waited a few minutes for Anna to leave the dungeons before Gabriel stepped forward to lay his hand on Dean's forehead.
"I, Gabriel Argenet, third-born of Michael Argenet, High Wizard of the lands, fulfill my oath to Dean Winchester, firstborn of John Winchester, king of the lands, on this day, as per the Geas of old. I grant upon you the Mark of the Redeemed."
Dean flinched despite himself, but nothing happened, at least not to him. Lucifer's body fell down with a thump, heavy chains rearranging themselves over him. Dean managed to catch Gabe as the Wizard slumped forward into his arms.
"I'm surprised the residual Mark was enough to put them back to sleep," Raphael admitted with a raised brow as he helped lay his brother down on the ground.
"Wake him up and meet me in the Solar. Sam and I'll go get Anna," Dean said.
The Solar glowed an eerie orange from the candles reflected in the tall windows. Of the five of them, only Gabriel opted to take a seat. Dean for one was too agitated to stay still.
"You all heard him as well as I did," Dean said, voice gruff as he surveyed the room. "Is he telling the truth?"
"You can't possibly be considering this." Raphael loomed over his brothers and sisters, but when he stepped closer, he lost the height advantage to Dean. "Power breeds madness, and it will take ahold of this land like an eagle does a lamb and squeeze the lifeblood from all you hold dear."
"Goodness," Anna sighed. "You should really spend a little more time away from courtiers. They're turning you into a blowhard."
"And risk encouraging him?" Raphael spun around, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. "Even you, dear sister, must understand the inherent danger in bringing us back to the days before the last Mage War."
"And you're only looking at the worst possible outcome." She pulled herself up, shoulders set defiantly. In many ways, Anna was the eldest sibling. She was the buffer when her father grew too demanding, the ameliorator when her younger brothers were upset, and the teacher to help them grow. Raphael had effectively been an only child for eight years and it showed. While he was still taller in height, she had grown older with experience.
"We all suffer from the Geas, even you," Anna said calmly. "We lost our home, but a family is a home as well, and you lost your home in that way. You never complained, not once, but we heard things from Dean, through Castiel. It wasn't easy for you here. Look at you. You're as thin as a stick. You're thirty and still haven't found a wife. There's too much work for five Wizards, much less one. It wouldn't be this way without the Geas."
"You appeal to my selfishness?" he sneered.
"You've seen more from this one perch than we have flying over the world. I tried to help, when I could, but I never stayed in one place long enough to know the people. Tell me, then, do you truly think so little of those tilling the field and hunting the forests? That they can't be taught? Can't be trusted?"
"I can't know that, not for sure," he sighed and shook his head.
"The bloodlines haven't been pure for centuries," she continued. "Ours is the only one that still picked and selected for those with the right heritage. After the Geas was wrought, the great families only stayed true for two or three generations before they were forced to realize they were no different from the common folk without their magic. There are probably pockets, anomalies, where bloodlines converge, but there aren't enough to start a new War. Most likely we are the only ones left who could."
Raphael turned away to pace, glancing occasionally at Lucifer and his sister. Dean had listened silently to Anna's arguments and they were good arguments. But there was one that she hadn't made, that couldn't go unsaid.
"Your brother would live," Dean said. "You'd have Cas."
Sam's eyes shot to him, wide and bright. "You're going to do it then?"
Dean shook his head. Anna was right about so many things, but Raphael was right about others. There wasn't so much difference between a rich man and a poor man. They still loved their home, their children, their drink, their dice, but the distance between a live man and a dead man was so vast that an entire profession had sprung from defining the difference. Just the same, someone may consider the difference between a hedgewitch and a Wizard to be very small indeed, but to go from no Magic to a land thrumming with ancient power was something inconceivable. Even if most were harmless, it only took one bad apple to spoil the entire bunch. Another Lucifer could rise up, someone charismatic, whispering in innocent ears, turning them into an army.
He hated the fact that he couldn't decide, couldn't snap his fingers and choose. It would be easy to say no. Nothing would change. No new dangers would arise. But saying no would be condemning Cas to death, and Dean couldn't bring himself to do that.
The rest of that day wore a mask of rigid normalcy. Breakfast with a lord from the north. Petitions. Chambers. Dinner with his mother. Sparring with Rufus. Talks about grain imports from the south. Resolving a border dispute around the Great Basin. Dean was surprised at how calm he was, even with two overbearing nobles shouting in his ear. It was like nothing could rattle him because he was so shaken already.
Raphael didn't find him until just before suppertime.
"Have you made up your mind?" the Wizard asked bluntly.
"No." A spilled pot of ink had soaked through his tunic, staining the front muddy brown. Dean was headed back to his rooms to change before he became the laughing stock of the day. Jesse followed dutifully at his heels, but he waved the boy off before Raphael could say anything further.
"This isn't a difficult decision, my Lord." The honorific sounded like an insult rolling off Raphael's tongue. "The suggestion that you would go through with this plan is insanity."
Anger boiled up in Dean but he couldn't let go, not here where there were ears everywhere. He walked faster, forcing the Wizard to run to keep up.
"Anna is correct that with more hands, the mundane issues of weather and pestilence and warding would be diminished, but there are hundreds of new magical problems that will arise and we are simply not equipped to deal with it. If there were a hundred Wizards whom you could trust with your life, we'd still be short-handed. The castle guard is three hundred men, and even then crime still goes unpunished within the city."
Raphael quieted as they reached the door to Dean's chambers, and didn't speak until Dean had waved away the two knights standing guard.
"And I know that you are giving consideration to Castiel's fate, and it may seem cold of me to argue against my own brother's salvation but―"
Dean slammed the door closed behind them and stormed up to Raphael. "But what? But you're willing to let him die?"
"This was his choice, Dean," Raphael snarled, raising his voice for the first time. "He knew the risks. He was willing to sacrifice himself for Sam's life. Do you think he wouldn't do the same for the kingdom? For thousands of men and women and children?"
"You don't know that," Dean said, turning away, even though he did. If Cas could talk, he'd probably tell Dean to let him go, that he wasn't worth it. But even if Cas were here to say that, even with Cas staring up at him with those stupidly beautiful eyes, Dean would fight him every step of the way.
"No, maybe I don't," Raphael said angrily. "Because I don't properly know my brother anymore and neither do you. I know far better than you the evil that walks hand in hand with power. For every problem that magic solves, it creates another. Castiel is my brother. We may not be close, but he holds all the affection that term implies, and though it pains me to say so, this is not worth his life. To you he is no more than a childhood friend, little more than a memory. You barely know him anymore, not after eight years. You can't sacrifice your kingdom for a ghost."
Dean cringed. If it was just Raphael, Dean would shove him out the door and slam it in his face. But there was the Dean that sat on stiff-backed thrones, who flirted with Lady Barnes so she wouldn't withdraw her naval support along the Ragged Coast, who drank Lord Marson under the table to secure lower lumber costs - that Dean was nodding along with Raphael's every word. But then there was the Dean who arbitrated livestock disputes and heard complaints on oil taxes, and poured mead in the main square on the last night of the Harvest Festival. That Dean clung to Anna's belief in a people who could learn and wouldn't turn into violent savages at the nudge of power.
"You've said your piece," Dean said quietly and opened the door once more. "Now get out of my chambers."
"Dean―"
"Get out now or I'll have your head on the block," he growled.
It was obviously a bluff, but the Wizard left anyways, leaving Dean with some quiet, but no peace. Dean anticipated another sleepless night, arguing with himself in his head. All day, his duties had kept him distracted and he hadn't made any headway. Now, maybe he could have time to find his direction.
Someone rapped sharply on his door.
"What?" Dean roared, annoyed at yet another interruption.
"My Lord?" Jesse's reedy voice floated through the wood.
Dean sat down heavily in an armchair. He needed to pull himself together if he was snapping at Jesse, of all people. "What is it?"
"I was wondering if you needed any assistance preparing for supper?"
Dean glanced down at the stain on his chest and cursed quietly to himself. Supper was waiting, and with it his father and an entire slew of men and women he had to impress.
"No, I can handle this on my own. You just run down to the kitchens and see if they need any help."
"Yes, m'Lord!" Jesse called out excitedly. There were always strips of fat or extra sweets in the kitchen for the children.
Dean stripped out of his tunic and threw on a new one. A decision would have to wait until later.
Dean was humble enough to admit that he was hiding. He wasn't hiding well. Everyone could guess where he was, but the important thing was that none of them were here. A wise king listened to his counsel, and Dean had heard plenty from Raphael, then Anna, then Raphael again. Even Gabriel, who usually shied away from sibling conflict, had shown up to see if Dean had made a decision and slipped away quietly when Dean told him he hadn't.
Impala whickered softly as he ran the brush through her mane. He could have a groom take care of this, but he found it usually cleared his head. Unfortunately, it wasn't working.
"Dean?" Sam called from the front of the stall.
"What?" Dean said without looking up.
"I figured you'd be here."
Dean waited for the argument. He was almost certain Sam stood on the side of taking Lucifer's offer, but he wasn't sure at which angle his brother would approach it. He wasn't expecting Sam to walk into the stall with Impala's saddle in hand.
"Here. Get her ready. We're going for a ride."
Dean shot Sam a questioning look, but Sam turned and left the stall without a word of explanation. When Dean led Impala out of the stables, his brother was already astride a tall gray mare.
The guards watched them warily as they shot through the gate and down the central avenue. If anyone recognized the two princes, they didn't say a word, though neither of them looked particularly regal with their plain leathers and unshaven faces. The creek was burbling sluggishly to their right before Dean recognized where they were going. He hadn't been back since Cas and Sam left with all the solace the old mill held for him. Afterwards, he always thought of it as too dusty, the old beams too unstable. The corners still looked dark and dank when he clambered through the broken doors, though a ray of sunlight hit the wall.
Nearly eight years had passed and the colors were still as vibrant and gay as the day they'd found the mural. A crack had formed in the wall, cutting through the top right corner where the harpy flew around the jaw of a manticore so that they gazed at each other from across the chasm.
"Dean!" Sam called again, from somewhere above. When Dean looked up, his brother had clambered up the half-fallen stairs into the rafters of the mill. He hadn't minded when they were little, when Sam was light enough for Dean to throw, but now, Sam must be heavier than Dean had been back then.
"Get down," he snapped.
"No. Come up here," Sam gestured, one hand braced against the ceiling.
Dean bit his lip, considering the old beams and planks before hauling himself through the maze and into the shadowed eaves. "What?" he said, shakily, as he clung to one of the sturdier supports, edging closer to where Sam stood.
"I want to show you something," Sam said as he jumped from the rafter onto one of the great wooden wheels. It creaked dangerously under his weight, but Sam didn't seem to mind.
"I am not doing that," Dean said calmly as he looked straight up, refusing to cast his eyes downward. Sam may have spent a month or a year living in treetops or mountainsides but the highest Dean could get by himself without breaking into a sweat was astride a horse.
"You don't have to." The sound of wood scraping against wood drew Dean's eyes to the side of the mill, just underneath a round window set just under the roof. "Just look."
A chunk of wood, the size of Sam's head, ripped from the wall. Behind it were two figures dressed in long blue robes holding hands between the two of them. The painting was childish, barely resembling the Wizards they represented, clearly drawn before the mural that covered the rest of the wall.
"Remember how we noticed there weren't any people?"
Dean nodded and Sam pointed at two signatures, written by two different hands. One was blocky and rigid, perfect in its straight lines and even curves. The other was wilder but more artistic, filled with whorls and little flourishes.
"Michael and Lucifer," Sam read out loud, though Dean could see them just fine.
He was, in fact, staring at them. His mind tried to resolve the children who drew this with the grown men he knew and it was surprisingly simple. Michael was the figure on the left, black hair pressed neatly to his head, back rigid and posture straight. Lucifer, with his head of blond hair, was grinning madly with his other hand raised in a frozen gesture.
"When did you find that?" Dean asked.
His brother shrugged and hopped up from the wheel, catching one of the beams and swinging himself back into the rafters. "Third or fourth time we were here."
"And you didn't tell us?" Dean demanded, incredulous. "Sam, what if Lucifer had come back here! He could have found us! How could you be so stupid?"
The last time they were here, his angry tone and harsh words would have made Sam cry, but now Sam just rolled his eyes. "But he didn't." A soft smile loosened his features. "And this was our place, Dean. It was just the three of us, and it was the only place that you two would ever relax, where Cas wouldn't constantly harp on me to study or you to train. I didn't want to ruin it, and I knew you two would never come up here, so I hid it."
Dean frowned, another admonishment poised on the edge of his tongue, but Sam was right. That was all in the past. Lucifer was sleeping in the dungeons beneath the castle and wouldn't be bothering them now.
"Why did you show me now?" he asked instead and started easing his way back down to ground level. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have so far off the floor with no one to catch him.
"Because," Sam huffed as he jumped down nimbly after him. "You need to see Lucifer as more than a Dark Wizard or a madman. I don't think he wants chaos or destruction. There are easier ways to do that then painting a red target on his back and prance through the royal castle, and he's smart enough to know that. I think he just wants to reach a balance of magic in the world."
"Sam," Dean sighed, frustrated. "There are no people in the painting. It's all monsters and magefolk! Maybe he wants all the witches and mages and dragons living happily ever after, but what about the rest of us?"
"Did you know Grandpa Samuel was a mage?" Sam said abruptly.
Dean stilled with one leg extended over a gap, his hands planted on the wood below him. "What?"
"I asked mom to tell me stories about growing up in Campbell."
Dean looked down through the slats at his brother, lost, a wave of regret for all the moments he missed washing over him.
"His bloodline wasn't pure, of course," Sam continued, oblivious as he hopped down to the ground. "I think his great-great-great-grandmother was a mage. What I mean, though, is that everyone probably has a little magic in their blood by now. Not enough to do anything, but it's not just Magefolk and Commonfolk anymore."
They sat on the great grinding stone where they'd always piled together in the past. Dean glanced up at the crack. It felt different now, not just because it was only two instead of three, but because Sam was nearly as tall as Dean was, lanky but sure-footed. He had the same goofy grin, but there was something harder there behind his eyes, and Dean wasn't sure if Lucifer put it there or if that was just the result of growing up.
Cas' eyes were never soft, even when they were kids, but the sharp glint had disappeared in the last few years. He wanted to see if it was back now, or if that had never been Cas in the first place.
"So everyone is just one big happy family, is that right?" Dean asked grimly.
"I mean it's a possibility."
Dean huffed. "If you're trying to sway my decision, you're not doing a very good job of it."
"I don't want to lie to you or pretend I know what's going to happen," Sam said and kicked at a loose rock sticking out from under the grinding stone.
"All these Wizards and not one has figured out how to tell the future yet," Dean said bitterly.
"You know, I didn't think this would be your biggest issue."
Dean's head snapped up, catching his brother's gaze over his shoulder. "Why not?"
"I expected you to be conflicted about Cas."
His stomach fluttered uncomfortably under Sam's scrutiny. "Say what you mean, will you?" he asked.
"I mean Cas is dying right now. Every second we wait, he slips further away, and he will die. And you would let that happen?"
"Of course not, Sam. That's the only reason I'm even considering this in the first place. If it wasn't Cas' life on the table, you think I'd go anywhere near the Geas?"
"Then what's stopping you?' Sam demanded.
Dean rocked up onto his feet and glared down at his brother. "You think it's that simple? This is Lucifer we're talking about aligning with. There's got to be another way that doesn't involve giving him what he wants."
Sam didn't bother raising his voice when he asked, "What if it had been me? Would you have hesitated?"
It hurt Dean that there was even a hint of doubt in his brother's voice. "Of course not! You're my brother."
"Then why is this different?" Sam pressed.
"Because he shouldn't be anything to me!" Dean shouted. "I wouldn't do this for Benny or Ash or Garth. Why is Cas different?"
"You know why."
Of course Dean knew why. He avoided thinking about it like the plague, because if he prodded that cache of secrets, it would burst and subsume him. And there were too many reasons why that couldn't happen.
"I can't," he moaned, dropping his head into his hands. Sam laid a warm hand on his shoulder.
"I know you, Dean. You might not think so, because we've kind of lost touch over the years," Sam said wryly.
Dean choked out a weak laugh.
"But I know the important things that will never change."
Dean knew what his brother meant. There were aspects of Sam that were carried in his blood, buried bone-deep and unmovable. No matter how much Sam would change, he would always recognize those pieces of him. It was the same with Cas, he realized. Gabriel might know the minute details, might even know Cas better, but that didn't mean that Dean didn't see below his surface and straight into his heart. Cas' heart was always big, warm, and steady, and Dean was lucky enough to be allowed part of that.
"You'll never forgive yourself if you let him die," Sam continued, but Dean didn't need convincing anymore. Before his brother could say anything else, Dean pulled him roughly into a hug.
Sam was right. There was no question, never should have been one. Castiel had a certain gravity that always pulled Dean back, even when Cas was the one leaving. Even when they were thousands of leagues apart, it felt like Cas was right there, just out of sight, waiting for Dean to turn around and see him. The sensation was uncanny, but Dean understood that Cas was there, a piece of him carried around with Dean at all times. He was always firmly ensconced in Dean's heart. And Dean wasn't going to lose him now.
"Thanks, Sam. I got it now."
Dean wanted to kick himself for taking so long. Even if he had agreed to Lucifer's plan the moment he heard it, there wouldn't be enough time. The first thing they did was convince Raphael not to tell anyone. He came around eventually, when Anna and Gabriel threatened to tie him up in the woods and have one of Gabriel's illusions take his place.
Then, they did the best they could to prepare the kingdom for a sudden influx of Magic. They treated it like a war where the enemy had already managed to penetrate into the heart of the kingdom. The wards on the castle and city walls were strengthened against any attack, physical or magical. The main roads leading in and out were reinforced in case they needed to shelter refugees or deploy their forces or, in the worst possible case, evacuate the city. The three Wizards teleported to Thousand Port, Great Bend, Mage Peak, and as many of the smaller holdings as they could within five days to do the same. Cas wouldn't last much longer than that and Dean wasn't ready to risk his life by waiting any longer.
He took the time to organize a tournament to be held the day they planned on breaking the Geas. He invited every lord and lady he could think of as well as their greatest knights. When the turmoil started, he wanted as many of the major players within the castle walls as possible. Then, maybe, he could stave off any conflict that would arise when people were allowed to stew in their own pots.
The spell to break the Geas was surprisingly simple. The directions were written directly on the Geas stone and Dean didn't know why he never considered them before. His studies always took him to other parts of the inscriptions, about the restriction on Magic, the lineage of the Wizards, and the Blessings granted to the royal offspring. All it took was a few drops of King's blood and for the man himself to recite a few words.
Dean's heart plummeted into his stomach when Raphael read it aloud.
"He'll never agree to this," he said desolately, seeing all their plans come to naught.
"It doesn't matter," Raphael explained. "The Geas doesn't know who wears the crown. It only recognizes blood lines. Your blood will do as well as your father's."
Dean gulped and accepted the silver knife from the Wizard. "Here's hoping the Winchester queens have stayed true."
His palm stung as he drew the knife across his skin, but it was nothing compared to the hits he'd taken in battle. When his hand dripped red, Raphael directed it to the only unmarked space on the Geas stone's surface.
"Repeat after me." Raphael traced a line of text with his finger and spoke slowly.
The words were in Old Kathunian, so most of it sounded like gibberish to Dean's ears. Still, he carefully repeated every sound that Raphael gave to him. There were a few words that he remembered from other translations he'd studied. iOthn'mir/i - power. iReskisin/i - faith. iNuht/i - the end.
"It's done," Raphael murmured, letting his gaze slip away from the ancient stone and fixing Dean with his stare. If Dean didn't know better, he'd say the Wizard was terrified.
His hand left a bloody print against the smooth gray Geas stone. When nothing happened, Dean thought for one terrible moment that maybe his wasn't King's blood after all. It only took one pretender to lose the royal line for eternity. They may never find a true heir, much less in time to save Castiel's life.
But then his handprint faded. The stone sucked in the blood like cotton, though it left no stain behind. With a deafening crack and a loud flash, the Geas stone split down its center, leaving its two halves steaming in its wake. Dean didn't waste another moment standing in the Sanctuary. He bolted down the aisle and through the doors. The Wizard's Tower loomed dark and invisible in the night, but for a single flame flickering in a window far above the ground.
Dean rushed up the stairs, hand braced against the wall as he swung around the spiraled steps two a time. He didn't bother silencing his steps. Michael would know soon enough anyways.
"Cas?" he called as soon as he burst through the door at the top of the staircase. Please, he begged, please let him be awake. Sam opened the door to the small bedroom a moment before Dean reached it.
Dean dropped to his knees at the side of the bed and laid a hand on each side of Castiel's face.
"Cas?" he said again, softer this time. He couldn't be too late. Anna said he had at least another day before his body gave out. Dean could feel his breath against his face, his warm skin under his fingers. So why wasn't he waking up? Could it be that the Geas wasn't broken after all? But then what was all that flash and show in the Sanctuary? Why else would the stone break in half? He looked up wildly, seized between staying by Castiel's side and running back to Raphael, find out for sure what had happened.
A warm hand closed around his shoulder and the wrong pair of blue eyes locked on to his.
"Dean," Anna said gently. "He's not going to wake up."
"No," Dean said hoarsely, deafened by the blood rushing in his ears. "No, no, no."
"Dean!" Anna shook him, all the mildness gone out of her voice. "Pay attention! He is not going to wake up right away.
When he tried to speak, it was like trying to talk with a mouthful of sand. "When?" he managed to croak.
"It could be anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours. You have to think of him as being very sick right now. He isn't going to recover instantly from ten days of the Mark's influence. You need to give it some time."
"Yes," Dean nodded frantically. Time he could give.
All through that first night, Dean stayed by his bedside, clasping his hand between his own. At some point, he crawled onto the narrow bed and fell asleep with his body bracketing Castiel's like a barrier between him and evils of the world.
Sam came to wake him in the morning. The castle was in an uproar.
"Everyone's talking about it," Sam hissed as he ushered Dean down the steps of the tower. "Some people are calling it treason." Raphael, Anna, and Gabriel were already waiting for them at the base, and together, they went to face the King.
John was furious. He spat words of duty and disappointment and treason in all their faces. Normally, Dean would be cowering in his boots, unable to look his father in the eye, but now, even though his vision swam with his father's furious eyes, he felt himself drifting. Cas could wake up any moment, by himself. Or even worse he wouldn't wake up at all. Then there was the tournament and the people he'd have to keep an eye on, the people he had to sway.
"Well?" John demanded. "What do you have to say?"
Dean snapped back to attention and looked for a response. He could defend himself. He could repeat all of Anna's arguments. He could even talk about Lucifer's one-man crusade. But what was done was done and nothing he could say would change that.
"Lord Elkins is arriving soon with his son," he said instead. "His House is descended from a line of Wizards, but the family has not kept to those bloodlines for at least five generations. The name will still hold some sway, so I plan on offering him access to the quarry on Watcher's Helm in return for his support."
John gaped at him. Dean was practically shaking in his boots when Garth broke the tense silence, rushing forward with a proclamation. "Lord Highstone has arrived with his revenue."
Dean took a deep breath and avoided looking at his father. The council would listen to the crown Prince only so long as the King did not contradict him. Breaking the Geas had backed everyone into a corner and only with carefully maneuvering would they come through this unscathed. Dean had placed them in this mess and he was determined to get them out. There were a hundred things to do in the next day and another hundred the day after. It was enough to set his head spinning.
Raphael cut into his moment of disorientation with an uncharacteristically gentle, "I'll greet him and escort them to the quarters in the east corridor. You will wish to speak with them after dinner?"
"And I'll go see if Henrickson's got all the preparations completed for the tournaments," Gabriel added right after that.
With a quick nod towards the rookery, Anna said, "I have some missives to send regarding the proposal between the Campbells and the Roseshires."
Dean shot them all a thankful grin before he brought himself back around to face his father, ready for a fight, but John had looked the stunned look on his face. It had been replaced by one of consideration, solemn and dark.
"This is your plan for fixing what you did?" the king said sternly.
"Not fixing," Dean said with a shake of his head. "Building. Breaking the Geas was only the first step. We have a plan, father. If you come with me, I can show it to you. I'd like to work with you on this." He was shaking on the inside, nothing more than a child looking for his father's approval, but Dean made sure to present himself as proud and unshakeable, a man to trust.
The king raised an eyebrow and gestured for Dean to lead the way and Dean felt relieved at the concession. He could do this, even if he had to take one small step at a time.
Dean was exhausted by the time he made his way back up the Wizard's Tower. His day had been spent fielding questions, concerns, and more than a few threats. This was not the time to be distracted, and yet throughout it all, he only wanted to be back here.
"You'll be staying here tonight, my lord?" Jesse asked nervously. The upheaval had not been easy on the boy and Dean knew he was acting strangely.
"Yeah," he said. "It's fine, Jesse. I can take care of myself. You just make sure they have some apple tarts ready for me at breakfast."
The page nodded quickly and ducked back through the door, leaving Dean by himself in the empty apartments. All the Wizards had left already, spread across the kingdom to find and educate those who found themselves suddenly with power in their veins. Raphael was the only one to remain, a handy excuse when dealing with the nobles, but he was still in the Great Hall when Dean had excused himself.
Dean dismissed the lone serving girl watching over Cas when he entered his bedchamber and he took her seat on the chair beside the bed. He took Castiel's hand in his, sighing at the warm skin and steady pulse under his fingers.
"It's a mess out here," he said as he threaded his free hand through Cas' hair, raking it back from his forehead. "Half of the old windbags are running scared and the other half is scheming. It figures that the only ones with any daring are using it against us. I fielded seven requests for Anna's hand in marriage and nine for Raphael, as if I had any say in it."
He could almost hear Cas' reproachful voice. iOf course you have a say in it, but that doesn't mean you have to use it./i
Dean snorted. "Told them all that the final decision belongs to Michael, of course he's up north and probably will be for another two weeks at the least. No one wants to mess with the Head Wizard now that the magic's back in order. I think that's the only reason we haven't seen war break out." Dean's head dropped lower and lower as he talked, moving closes to Castiel's warmth. "Your father hasn't broken from our house yet, but I hear he was furious when he found out. I didn't even get to see him before he left. John was the one who talked with him which was probably a huge mistake."
He leaned forward until his forehead was resting on Castiel's shoulder and his words were whispered directly in his ear. All the calm and composure he'd managed to maintain all day fled from him as he clung to the Wizard. "I may have damned us all, Cas. A raven came from the southern border. One of the outposts near Dragon's Pass caught sight of a strange green cloud floating over Hellsmouth. We don't know if its weather magic, mage fire, or just an illusion. I've kept it secret from everyone but Raph. I'm terrified that we're sitting in a pile of dry leaves and a single spark is all it'll take to set it ablaze."
Cas didn't move, didn't answer.
"I don't want to do this alone," Dean said quietly, pleading as he lifted his head to look at the Wizard's face. "Don't make me do this alone." With each inhale, he expected Cas to open his eyes, but then the air would leave his lungs again and there'd be no change. This was no better than talking to himself. He was no better than Amanites praying to their painted stones.
Dean sat back in disgust, clenching his left hand over his own knee, but couldn't quite make himself let go of Castiel's hand. The absurdity of the situation struck him. He had spent eight years pretending to talk to Cas, lying in his bed before he'd fallen asleep, but now that Cas was here in front of him it felt shameful. Anna had said a few hours, and it had been half a day. It wouldn't be long now. Dean could wait.
He moved the chair so its back was against the wall and he could prop his legs up on the pallet while keeping hold of Castiel's hand. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but Dean had spent nights crammed in a cave with twenty knights while on the march. A hard back was nothing compared to a rock in his gut.
Falling asleep was an ordeal. He started awake every time someone outside shouted or laughed or when his own leg rustled the bed sheets. After the fifth or sixth time, he heard Raphael's muffled voice float in through the door to check if there'd been any change. There wasn't. Dean sighed and brushed a hand through Cas hair, smoothing it down.
"I need you to come back to me," he mumbled, and after a moments hesitation, bent down to place a drowsy kiss against Cas' forehead. "Please." Soon after, he managed to drift off into a fitful sleep.
When he woke, the sky was dark out, and the kitchen fires had yet to be lit. He settled back into the chair, determined to get another few hours of sleep, when he realized what had woken him. Cas wasn't lying straight out on his back. Instead, he had curled up onto his side facing Dean.
"Cas!" Dean called urgently. He grabbed Castiel by the shoulders and shook him. He was rough and rude, but he was too excited to wait. "Come on, Cas. Come back."
Cas squirmed against the sheets, stretching his arms out and almost hitting Dean in the face before his eyes blinked open. Dean surged forward, enveloping the Wizard in his arms and burying his face in his neck.
"Dean?" Cas laid a hand gently on Dean's back. "What happened? Why are you crying?"
Sure enough, when Dean blinked, he realized his eyes were wet. Still, he couldn't answer Cas' question because he didn't know himself.
Cas' voice grew urgent and worried. "Is Sam safe?" he asked as he let go of Dean. "Did you manage to catch Lucifer?" Cas placed a hand between them and pushed lightly, but Dean would have none of that now. He held on all the more tightly.
"Sam's fine, Cas. Lucifer's in the dungeon." Dean meant to say more. He had apologies and thanks and explanations lined up in a row, but they shrank in importance in the face of the fact that Sam was fine. That chapter of their lives was closed forever. He pulled back, fully aware of the dopey grin that had taken over his face. Cas looked at him with groggy bewilderment.
It was over, but there was one thing Dean still had to fix. "Cas," he said, toning down his smile into something softer. He took the Wizard's face in his hands. "I thought a lot about this."
"About what?" Cas didn't move his face or drop his gaze even though he looked utterly confused.
"You."
"Me?" If anything, Cas' confusion seemed to grow stronger.
"And me." Dean gulped and hurried on before Cas could ask again. "I see you once a year and I still think of you as my best friend."
The frown on Cas' face softened a little, but didn't go away.
"Everyone else I forget after a week unless I need something from them, but I can never get you out of my head."
Cas' eyes dropped away and his shoulders seemed to slump under Dean's hands. "You needed me to help Sam."
"That's not what I mean," Dean sighed. In negotiations he always knew what he wanted and what the other party wanted in turn, but here he felt adrift. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know what Castiel thought. He could only hope that they wanted the same thing. "Cas, I don't need anything from you. I just need you. Not to help Sam. I need you for everything."
The words felt clumsy on his tongue, but Cas' eyes cleared and he gazed at Dean with wonder, like he understood the meaning that was muddled by need to speak them out loud. "You need me," Cas said, and it wasn't a question this time. He laid a hand on Dean's cheek and Dean leaned into his palm. When Cas leaned forward, Dean was sure that he was going to kiss him, but instead, Cas stopped with their foreheads touching. This close, Dean couldn't focus on his eyes, so he closed his instead, listening to Cas' breath, breathing in his scent of cotton and sweat.
"Dean, I've loved you since I knew what it meant to love someone as more than a friend or family. I never had the chance to love anyone else and I never had the chance to do anything but love you."
Dean's heart sank. He took Cas' hand in his, gripping so tight that Castiel winced. "That's fine. If you need time or space, you can have it and―"
"No," Cas shushed him. "I don't need that, but I have waited a very long time to hear you say that, so I want you to be sure."
Dean recognized the look on his face. Cas was nervous even though he had absolutely no reason to be. "I am, Cas. I mean," Dean bit his lip. "I broke the Geas to save your life."
Cas reeled back. The expression of shock would have been funny if it weren't followed immediately by a look of fury. "You broke the Geas? You should have told me that first," Cas said seriously.
Dean shot him an incredulous look. "For almost two years you kept your little secret from me! I didn't find out until you were lying almost dead on a table in the Great Hall! I had to hear about it from Gabriel. I swear, Cas, if you ever do something like that again, I'm going to―"
"Do something completely impetuous like break the Geas?" Cas shot back. He flung his sheets back, right into Dean's lap, and swung his legs off the side of the bed.
"Hey, wait!" Dean said, trying to stop him, but Cas was stubborn and mad. The Wizard stood for only a moment before his knees gave out underneath him, sending him falling sideways. Dean was prepared for it, of course, and caught Cas easily before he could even stumble.
"Careful," he admonished, hauling Cas more securely against him. "You've been bedridden for nearly two weeks now. Your muscles are weak; it'll take time for you to recover your strength."
Cas glared at his own legs like they had betrayed him. Then he turned his formidable glare on Dean. "What's happening out there? You must tell me everything."
Dean couldn't help it. Cas was standing in his rumpled gown using Dean as a full-body crutch and still thought it was his job to save the kingdom. He closed the inches between them and caught Cas' lips against his own. He half-expected Cas to shy away and continue admonishing him on his choices in running the kingdom, but he didn't. He stilled for a moment before he started kissing back. When Dean licked along Cas' bottom lip, his mouth opened easily and the kiss deepened into something fully serious, all humor gone from the situation. And when Cas moaned, rough and throaty, Dean could only think of getting underneath that sleeping gown. He took a step back, expecting Cas to follow, but instead, Cas slid halfway down him with an undignified yelp, clinging with both hands to Dean's belt as his legs splayed out beneath him.
Dean gaped for a moment, mourning the loss of Cas' body heat against him before he burst out laughing at the sight. Cas' grumpy face returned in full force as Dean hauled him back onto the bed.
"I think any strenuous activity will have to wait until you've recovered," Dean teased.
"I believe I can handle a number of activities while lying down," Cas said, shooting Dean a hungry look that he found worked far too well for his own good.
It took all of his willpower to unhook Cas' hands from his belt. "Impatient, are we?"
"Dean, I have spent the past thirteen years sequestered with my father, my brother, my sister, your mother, and Sam."
"Troll's blood," Dean breathed out. Of course Cas was impatient. He had no warm company but his own hand for the most heated eight years of his life. All good sense flew out the open window and Dean surged forward, pressing Cas down into the mattress with his body as he pressed kisses to his lips, his nose, his jaw. Cas was too thin under his gown, all bone and muscle, pared down by two weeks of near starvation.
That would have been enough to stop Dean, but he was given no other option when a rapid knock came at the door.
"What?" Dean called out breathlessly. Cas was panting and blushing furiously beneath him.
"Dean?" Raphael's voice floated through the solid oak. Sometime while he was distracted, the sun had risen over the horizon and the sounds of early morning castle life had started in the courtyard below. Dean cursed and got off the bed, pulling to straighten his clothing before he reached the door
"Is he awake?" Raphael asked anxiously when Dean opened the door.
"I am," Castiel answered hoarsely from the bed. Dean stepped aside quickly as Raphael rushed through the door.
"How are you feeling?" Raphael asked anxiously as he reached his brother's side. The acting Court Wizard was a blur of efficiency as he lifted Cas' eyelids and checked his pulse.
"I'm a little tired," Cas admitted.
"You feel a little warm," Raphael said with a worried frown.
The blush returned full-force to Castiel's face even though his expression didn't betray an ounce of embarrassment.
"I'll go get someone to send up some food," Dean said quickly before Raphael could begin to suspect anything. It wasn't that Dean wished to keep this a secret from him, or that he thought Castiel would wish to do so, he just wasn't ready to talk about it with Castiel's brother, of all people. Dean ran down to the first landing that held the servant's quarters and roused one of the girls to go to the kitchen and bring back some bread and cheese and cider.
When he returned upstairs, Raphael had finished his examination, and Cas was bundled up under the blankets looking thoroughly disgruntled.
"I have to go inform my father and Anna and Gabriel," Raphael said briskly. "You need to let Castiel get some rest."
"I have been resting for two weeks," Castiel said with an exasperated sigh.
"Yes, with no food, no water, and nothing but magic to sustain you," Raphael replied calmly to his brother before turning back to Dean. "If you don't think you can let him be, I will have Meg come and babysit the two of you."
Dean put on his most solemn of courtly faces until Raphael left the room. He glanced at Cas, and the two of them burst out laughing, deep full-bodied guffaws that shook them from head to toe until Cas was bright-eyed and flushed against his pillow. It had been so long since they'd been this carefree together and it felt amazing. Dean leaned forward and left a quick peck on Cas' lips. One little kiss couldn't hurt.
Cas hummed happily as they parted. "My brother is very perceptive," he remarked breathlessly.
"Luckily for us, he's also rather discreet. The last thing we need is more gossip flying around this castle."
"More gossip?" Cas asked with a raised eyebrow.
Dean sighed and sat down heavily in his chair. "It's far too soon to have any real news, but there are already rumors of powerful mage factions starting an uprising. The location and the ringleaders differ every time the story is told and nobody is foolish enough to believe it's true, but it's enough to stir trouble among the nobles."
Cas nodded and leaned back into his pillow. "Perhaps what you need is a distraction, something good for them to focus on, instead of the bad."
"That's why I staged a tournament." Dean ran a hand through his hair.
"Tournaments are too familiar. Magic is new and exciting. You need to direct that more towards awe than terror."
Castiel was right. No matter how large the pot for the tournament, it could not compete with the whisperings of magic in the air. He needed something extravagant. "The Narrow Strait!" he said triumphantly.
"An entire kingdom of Wizards couldn't close the Narrow Strait," Cas said wryly.
"No, but we could bridge it. Right now you either half to sail from Thousand Port to Roc's Beacon or climb down one cliff face, ford the river, and up the other side." Ironically, the Narrow Strait was too wide to build a bridge, but with enough mages, they could mold the rock itself to cross the gap.
Dean waited tentatively as Cas thought it over. "Yes, I believe that can be done. You should talk with Anna about it first."
"Anna isn't here right now," Dean said. "And I don't have time to wait for a reply."
"Then you should start it as a rumor. If Anna confirms, you can give credence to it. If she doesn't, it can fade away like the talk of a rebellion."
"Yes," Dean agreed with a nod of his head. He glanced down at Cas' frowning face and smiled. They had always worked well together, and now he would have that all year round.
"Dean?" Cas asked, cocking his head against the pillow. Dean realized he'd been hovering and smiling for a while now, so he covered by leaning down and planting a short kiss on the corner of Cas' mouth. When the Wizard turned his head, trying to catch him straight on, Dean pulled away with a smirk.
"You heard your brother. And anyways. I have to go implement our brilliant plan. I'll have the girl from yesterday come up."
"I don't need someone to watch me sleep," Cas huffed.
"No, but I want someone here to make sure you are sleeping. You learned your delinquency from me, remember?"
"You were the delinquent, Dean. I was never infected," Cas protested.
"That was before you started kissing me," Dean said with a grin and he rose to leave.
"Dean," Cas called softly. Dean turned back around and Cas was looking at him with a soft, adoring smile that melted his heart. "I just― thank you, for saving me."
"Of course, Cas," Dean said, as if it hadn't taken him an entire day to make the decision. He stood there between the bed and the door for a good minute, just looking at Cas whose eyes were already drooping shut even as he struggled to keep his head propped up against his pillow.
A knock, barely audible through two solid doors, startled him back into motion.
"My lord?"
Dean could just make out the muffled words calling him back into the world where there were a dozen men and women looking to bury him, bed him, or break him. He would bear all of it though, to have these moments with Cas. He sincerely hoped that it was the right decision for the rest of the world, but that dimmed in comparison to having his best friend here with him.
"I'll be back as soon as I can, Cas," he promised, but Castiel was already asleep. It didn't matter. He knew that Cas would be here waiting.
