Chapter 3: The Chase
Dean was sprinting, his chest felt like it was going to explode. He had to keep going though, if he didn't he wouldn't be able to find out what all of this was about. He was no longer being careful, which in hindsight was a bad idea since it would be incredibly easy to fall. In fact it was probably a miracle that he didn't sprain his ankle (it would have been so easy if he had just stepped slightly differently or landed wrong). Dean didn't care though, there were two inns in town. The first was on the outskirts of the north east side, where Dean and Sam had tied up their horses. Also the one that was near where he had found the noble Castiel for the second time today. The second inn, was in the middle of the town. The one that was now ablaze and would soon come tumbling down in a pile of smoldering, black charcoal.
In fact, the inn was so close to the center of town that Dean didn't know if it fell under his side or Sam's side. That meant that there was a possibility that Sam was there. Though there was a possibility even if the inn wasn't on his side, this way it was way more likely.
This was the reason why Dean was sprinting, Sam could not be hurt. He just wasn't allowed to be. It was Dean's job, his responsibility to keep Sam safe. Ever since they were little and probably far into their twilight years, maybe even forever.
After all, if he didn't have someone to protect, then who was he?
To some the idea may have seemed silly, but to Dean it was anything but. It was his job, so much so that it had integrated its way into the very core of his personality. Like a spider that had woven a web so intricate it was now trapped, a part of Dean would always feel responsible for Sam. Not even just Sam, but people in general. If he didn't help people, if he didn't save them from the evils out there, then who would?
No one, that's who.
The cape he was wearing whipped loudly in his ears. He didn't have time to think about the positives. His brain was beelining to the negative, the dangerous, the worst possible outcome. Never mind that there were literally hundreds of places Sam could be other then the inn. Never mind that it was highly unlikely that Sam would be caught or trapped in the burning building. In Dean's mind, Sam was already hurt- or worse. There was distant whine- screaming and panic from the people nearby the inn. It was like a dagger cutting through the normal night time sounds. Seems the frogs and other forest animals had stopped to listen to the sound of disarray and chaos. Crimson light danced along the skyline, even though Dean was no where near the fire he could already feel the intense heat it was producing. He could see the warm air rising off into oblivion, escaping into some distant corner of the globe. Even threatening to take itself all the way up to heaven itself.
Dean increased his pace, though it hurt his chest a little. He wasn't out of shape, he was just pushing his limits. That's what limits were for, right? He hopped from building to building, only slowing temporarily when he was on unstable ground. His ankles throbbed from jumping carelessly over unstable and uneven roofing, but he didn't relent. Keeping his pace was crucial. He couldn't count how many times he had cursed under his breath since seeing the fire. He could swear like a sailor when he was under great stress.
In hindsight, it was silly to push himself this hard. When he got there he may not have the energy to help Sam if he was hurt. Right now he was running completely on adrenaline and anxiety. Which felt kind of like running on empty. It was both physically exhausting and yet he felt as though he had to press on since his nerves were killing him. He glided over the last rooftops, drawing so close to the fire he could see the embers dance nearby. Dean drew in a shaky breath, smelling the scent of burning pine. While his eyes darted like a cornered animal, searching for a body that might be Sam's.
The good news; Sam was nowhere in sight. The bad news; same as the good news. Where the hell was Sam?
Dean felt his heart drop back into his chest. There was still a tremendous amount of anxiety, but at least Sam wasn't dead right off. Or at least, visibly dead. One of the good things about always expecting the worst was Dean was rarely ever surprised. Bad things happened, but at least they weren't the absolute worst. So in a sense, he was finding a positive in a negative. Sam always mocked him about how, 'healthy that type of thinking was' but for Dean, it worked. So why change it?
Curious eyes surveyed the scene, watching as figures and silhouettes sprinted away from the fire. Amidst the chaos Dean noted a group of men on horseback. They were nor alarmed, nor surprised about the fire. It must have been their doing in the first place, Dean gritted his teeth. They were uniformed, "Filthy curs."
He reached behind, pulling an arrow out of his quiver. Usually he'd give a warning shot, but he didn't think these people deserved it. There could have been children inside. People who didn't see it coming until it was too late. These people deserved what they got. With that healthy perspective he aimed carefully, taking into consideration all of the different elements. Dean drew his arrow back, feeling hatred for the scum of the earth burning behind his retinas.
"Dean!" a voice snapped quietly, pulling him back into reality. He let the arrow go slack in his hand, turning his head to look.
"Sam!" Dean said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god, I was afraid you may hath been harmed. To see you safe is comforting. Don't scare me like that."
Sam gave a small amused smile, the corners of his mouth trying to restrain themselves from laughter. He was used to his brother's antics but this was just too good. Dean frowned. "I'm fine." he declared.
"I know, I just- shut up." Dean answered, irritated at his little brother's amusement. Sam would never quite understand what it was like for Dean. How Dean's first real memory of his father was him saying, 'look after Sam'. Those three words had been beaten into Dean's skull so hard that if he closed his eyes he could hear John's voice.
There was nothing else, self preservation came second to protecting Sam. Everything would always come after making sure that Sam was taken care of. If there was only enough food for one of them? The food went to Sam. If one of them had to sleep on the floor? Sam got the bed. If one of them was going to stick their neck out? Sam was going to be the safe one. Everything always came second to Sam. No exceptions, no hesitations.
"What art we looking at?" Sam asked, observing the men and the fiery building below.
"Them." Dean replied pointing at the people below. They were all huddled around laughing, a few of them were chasing the towns people nearby. The one in the middle, hopped off of his horse. He headed over to a large wooden crate and climbed on top. Then the man put his index finger and thumb in mouth, then he whistled loudly. The villagers whipped around looking at the source on the noise.
"Hear me!" the man shouted. "We mean ye no harm. At least we mean ye no harm, if thou wouldst cooperate with us. Should ye fail to comply like these maggots, we shall burn thy village to the ground."
"Because that's fair." Dean muttered with irritation, though the comment seemed like a hallow threat. If everyone was dead how would they help these people with whatever it was that they wanted?
"We come looking for someone, a man. We've been told he may be seeking refuge in thy village. It's our job to find him and bring him back to our lord, alive." the man pulled out a sheet of parchment with a drawing on it. Though from here, it was nearly impossible to see what had been scrawled on it. "James C Arthur Novak."
"That's a mouthful." Sam mused.
"Sounds like a noble." Dean replied, Sam gave a nod in agreement.
"Fail to comply and thy inn shan't be the only thing in ruins. We'll burn this whole bloody place down to find him. He's worth more to us then the lives of a few lowly peasants." the man smiled greedily. Dean frowned, scoffing quietly at the man's attitude.
"How are we doing this?" Sam asked quietly. "Usually its thy job to draw their attention, but in this case maybe I should-"
"No. I'll go." Dean insisted. Sam first, everything else comes second.
"But I could go. I could draw their attention while you shoot from up here. It's dangerous but it shall get the job done. You know I can do it." Sam reasoned.
"I know, but if anyone is jumping in the line of fire it's me." Dean replied. "Go home, get Bobby, get safe, maybe get out- I'll lead them out of town."
Sam heaved a sigh, Dean knew he was going to get an earful if he gave Sam time to argue. Sam was the type to protest when he thought something was too dangerous, which was most of the time. So he thrust himself off the rooftop onto the next one. Then the next, he threw a glance over his shoulder smiling. Sam shook his head and started to climb down. Good.
"Make sure my baby is safe!" he said over his shoulder. If Sam was going to get back to Bobby's he should take both horses and make sure both of them get food, water, or anything else they might need.
Dean positioned himself so that he was adjacent to the speaker and readied his bow. Then he stood up, which amazingly didn't draw their attention. Apparently they had a lot on their minds or they weren't the most observant crowd. "Hey-ho!" Dean shouted, letting an arrow whiz towards the speaker's head. He dove to the left and the arrow barely grazed him on the shoulder.
The archer could feel many pairs of eyes glue themselves to him as he stood tall. He wouldn't back down to these thugs. Dean did have a sense of pride in what he did, keeping people safe was worth while. It was something worth being proud of. Relief flooded the villagers features, they were happy to see him. Robin Hood their icon had come to save them. The speaker and his minions didn't have the same relieved eyes. "Don't just stand there! Get him!" he shouted, throwing his arms to the side.
Dean cracked a smile, dashing away as enemy archers let their arrows fly. He was greeted with the sounds of a chase; blood pumping, head rushing, heart beating, feet clambering, cape whooshing. They were familiar sounds and truth be told, Dean actually enjoyed the sounds of a chase. They felt a little like the home he never knew. They were so natural, he had been hearing them his whole life. Ever since he was a little boy, following his father around those sounds were what he heard most. In fact, he enjoyed the feeling of the chase. That someone was rushing after him, it made him feel invincible since they could never seem to catch him.
Dean was the wisp of smoke around the campfire. He was the beam of light, piercing through the dark, carving its own way. The legend, without being the man. A figure that ghosted its way through the bad and saving the good. The wind whipping against the riders in the night. People could extend their arms, they could hold out their hands but no one could catch him.
No one can tame the wind, its free and wild.
The world around him was blurred in the thrill of the chase. Everything around him looked fuzzy and unfocused. The world, if only for a moment, became one giant mass of colors. Like the brush strokes on a canvas far before the painting ever looks like anything. There were no minor details to pay attention too, because there were no minor details in a chase.
For a moment it was as if nothing else existed and Dean liked that feeling. Because for one moment he didn't have to worry about Sammy, dad, mom, anything really. There was just him, his heart pounding in his skull, the men lagging too far behind to ever catch up, and the wind rushing against his features.
Arrows whirled by him but apparently they weren't very good shots. If all of his energy wasn't being expended in this chase he would laugh. The rooftops rushed behind him as he went barreling over the edge onto the ground below. Legs flailing in the few instants of flight, or rather falling that Dean experienced. He caught himself carefully, rolling and then ending on all fours. He paused a moment to look over his shoulder.
A large chunk of the men were following him, good. Dean scrambled from all fours to two feet. He went sprinting down the dirt road, hearing the clomping of boots behind him. He hung a quick left down an alley, then a right. The adrenaline was overwhelming, he took another right down a different alley. The decisions of where to turn weren't really conscious choices, rather impulse decisions.
The loud clicking of hooves interrupted his perfect chase. They were getting smarter, chasing him on horseback. It made things more challenging but not in a good way. Dean didn't like when people used horses for chases, he couldn't outrun a horse.
Though, he could make it so the horses couldn't get to to him. Dean grabbed a hold of some wood crates hoisting himself up. They couldn't follow him on horseback if he was up on the roof. Well, they could but the wouldn't be able to grab him unless they came up and fought like men. Which to him was the perfect solution, though he had just come down from the rooftops it seemed he would be going up again.
But the men were closer then he thought, the one in the front of the pack grabbed his ankle as he climbed. "Get down!" he yelled. Dean let his leg go slack a moment, causing the man to also relax. Then he ripped his leg from the guy's grip, kicking him in the face for good measure. Then he pulled himself up onto the roof. Overkill? Maybe. Effective? Yes.
The chase would resume, but there was one problem. He was close to the edge of town and pretty soon he was going to run out of buildings. But Dean wasn't the type to plan out a trajectory so he kept barreling forward. Dean just figured it would be one of those he would deal with when he got there. A 'cross that bridge when we get there' type of deal. With horseback riders following below and men on foot following him over the roof tops he was going to have to think of a plan eventually. On the up side of things, these men weren't exactly skilled in climbing over treacherous roofs so they were slower. But some of them were adjusting pretty quickly. No cause for alarm though, Dean still had the upper hand.
Until he ran out of roof of course.
Which happened faster then he expected. Or maybe it just seemed faster because he was enjoying the chase so much. His eyes darted around looking for an out. He had maybe a minute before the guys on foot caught up, but the people on horseback already had the house surrounded. The only way out was back the way he came which meant running into the guys he was trying to avoid.
He heaved a heavy sigh, sprinting had wore him out considerably. Dean glanced around, when a white horse with a tan cloaked rider flew to his side. "Cas! Man am I glad to see you." he said gratefully.
"Get on." Castiel instructed, holding out a hand. Dean considered just letting the thugs take him. He'd really rather not get back on that flying monstrosity. He was really hoping that there was another way out. When Castiel saw Dean's hesitation he reached forward grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him halfway on.
In Castiel's haste, he pulled Dean on backward. The two sat back to back, which made Dean want to throw up. There was nothing to hold on, he just had to trust that the horse wouldn't screw him over. "You shouldst know, this is a pretty piss poor rescue!" Dean yelled over the wind.
He couldn't see Castiel's face, but he guessed that Cas frowned. Though, it was only a guess. Dean fought back the urge to vomit as he stared at the ground. They always say, 'don't look down' but Dean found it impossible to look anywhere else. Looking up made him feel dizzy, like he couldn't keep his balance. He couldn't turn around and stare at Castiel's back without risking falling off. Looking down made him feel sick. Either way, it sucked.
Still he decided to make the most of it, Dean unsheathed an arrow pointing it at the men below. Since the horse wasn't actually galloping on anything but air it was actually pretty easy to aim. He let the first arrow fly, which missed his mark by a few inches. It still hit the guy though, so he'd take it. Still the farther away they got, the harder it was to hit anything. "So what?" Dean yelled. "Just show up and save me?"
"That's what you wouldst done." Castiel replied with his usual deadpan voice, though there was a little strain to it since he had to shout over the wind.
"Right..." Dean answered, feeling woozy.
"Whoa." Cas said calmly, reaching back and grabbing one of Dean's wrists. Apparently, Cas could hear Dean's wooziness in his voice. Dean felt himself flush, then immediately felt like an idiot. It was embarrassing that he felt so scared, Cas had to hold him steady. He gave a discouraged sigh. No one should ever have to hold Dean Winchester steady. It was quite the let down from feeling like he was totally invincible to feeling like he was going to die. At least Cas couldn't see him looking so flustered. Dean looked down, then smacked his free hand over his eyes. "If it helps, I used to be afraid to fly."
"Nope." Dean replied, pressing his hand against his eyes.
Castiel flew lower, now they were only a few feet above the ground. Dean could feel them go down, it caused his gut to lurch. But, he let Dean's wrist go slack in his hand. "Were close to the ground. You can open thy eyes."
Dean frowned, how did he even know that Dean had his eyes closed? It was probably just a guess but still, Dean didn't like that Cas knew. He didn't like being weak. "My eyes weren't closed." he snapped.
"Denial is not a pretty color on you, Dean." Castiel joked. Though his tone of voice betrayed him, it sounded like he was chastising him rather then joking around. So Dean jerked himself halfway around and punched Cas in the arm.
Did this guy even really know how to tell a joke? Dean wondered silently.
The horse galloped a few strides before finally touching down on the ground. Dean wobbled, now that they were on the ground it was even harder for Dean to stay on the horse. On the upside, if he fell off he wouldn't drop so far he'd die. They were almost to Bobby's, but in the distance Dean could still see the horseback riders. They were still giving chase. "They're still chasing us." he reported.
"Didst thou expect them to stop?" Castiel questioned.
"No- just- shuddap." Dean pouted. "Look, just head for the house."
Castiel stopped his horse just outside of Bobby's house. Dean climbed down, thankful to be on the ground again. His legs felt shaky, Sam rushed out of the house with Bobby. "Dean! Thou art safe!"
"I told ye I wouldst be fine." Dean answered. Though he had to grip onto the fence to keep himself steady. Both Bobby and Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly. Dean frowned, "Look, we haven't got the time to delay. Were being pursued and they shan't be long."
"Great." Sam muttered.
"Then you two need to high tail it out of here." Bobby said without hesitation.
"The men aren't after us." Dean replied slowly. "Though, now they probably are. Since I shot at them..."
"Wait. If they aren't after thee? Who are they after?" Bobby asked.
"A... James C Arthur Novak." Dean repeated thoughtfully. Castiel shifted on his horse, drawing the attention of Sam and Bobby. They had almost forgotten that he was there. "Know something shifty?" Dean asked.
"Nay." Castiel replied.
"Alright, anyway, they were really adamant about finding this guy. Oh, this is Castiel." Dean gestured behind him. Sam gave a small nod and Bobby just shrugged a little. "My best guess says that they will be after us now. Or... rather... me."
"Like I said, both of thee needst to leave. Now." Bobby insisted. He went inside, coming back out with two packs. One of them was for Sam and the other was for Dean. "They hath no reason to attack me."
"Just because they hath no reason doesn't mean they shan't." Sam thought out loud.
"Think I can't handle myself?" Bobby asked.
"Nay, its just-"
"I'll be fine, I know a thing or two. You boys need to go. Now." Bobby insisted, handing both boys their packs. Sam took the pack and then heaved himself up onto the back of his horse. Dean followed suit. Though, both boys hesitated on their horses. The elder Winchester gave a small smile.
Bobby had been there ever since the boys were little. When no one else was there for them, Bobby was there. He was always there, whenever either of the boys needed him. Dean felt a heaviness in his heart, he didn't want to just leave Bobby. Even if Bobby thought that he could handle these guys, Dean was skeptical. He didn't want to underestimate these guys, if there was one thing Dean had learned in life it was that underestimating the enemy was a dangerous game. It was like juggling knives.
But, Dean knew that he wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. When Bobby decided to something he was going to do it. So Dean gave a small smile, "Thanks Bobby. For everything."
"This shan't be the last you'll see of me." Bobby replied, then he held up a hand as if to say 'wait a minute'. He dashed inside and came back out with a small glowing red bird. "Take him with thee, he's a phoenix. Just a baby though, for now he'll work as a messenger bird so we can communicate. Head north, find Ellen. Maybe she can give thee shelter."
If he went north to find Ellen they would have to take ship. Hopefully they would be able to get there before the winter truly set in. Once winter got heavy, no one wanted to be traveling. It was actually pretty dangerous. If the days didn't get them then the nights would, it could get down below freezing on a regular night. Plus, it was really easy to get ill. Once a person got sick they were pretty much dead unless they could get to a doctor immediately.
The bird flew over and landed on Castiel's shoulder. Castiel gave it a questioning look which the bird reciprocated. Dean chuckled a little under his breath. The bird and the boy were strangely alike. The glow of the bird lit up Castiel's face, so Dean could see his eyes. Those quiet, knowledgeable, and distant eyes.
Dean sighed, pulling on the reigns of his horse. "Take care of thyself."
"You as well." Bobby nodded.
The elder took the lead, pulling his horse out of the gate. Sam and Castiel followed suit. Truth be told, Dean didn't really know why Castiel was following. Though, he supposed that the guy didn't have anywhere else to go. He helped get Dean out of trouble which meant that he would be wanted by anyone who wanted Dean dead (which was a large majority of any type of law officials and a handful of women). There wasn't a problem or anything, what was more surprising was that Sam hadn't said anything to Dean.
Usually, Sam would be pissed that he acted so recklessly (though Dean would think eventually he'd get used to it). Still, Sam always protested in some way, some comment, snide remark. Something. What was worse was that it should have been obvious that Castiel knew who Dean was. Dean also figured he'd get an earful for revealing his identity. But yet, as they rode up the first hill Sam didn't say anything. Not one word. His silence was unsettling.
Once they were to the top of the hill Dean gazed back at Sam. His expression was pensive, very difficult to read. But Sam's expression wasn't the only thing that he saw when he looked over his shoulder.
The whole town was ablaze, not just the inn. The whole town, a fiery ball of panic. It was lighting the night sky drawing the attention of anyone who was in eye-shot. Dean's brain froze, going into overdrive. Instinct told him to rush back and see if he could help anyone, but Bobby told him to run. Bobby told them to flee, but Dean wanted to rush back. Desperately.
"This is my fault." Dean whispered.
Sam and Castiel turned their horses around. Sam inhaled sharply, seeing the state of the place. Castiel kept silent, Bobby's phoenix still perched on his shoulder. "Dean..." Sam said quietly. Dean wasn't sure what Sam was protesting too. The idea that he obviously wanted to go back, or the idea that Dean thought it was his fault.
"Dean, the fault is not thine-"
"The hell it isn't." Dean snapped, flickering rage reflecting in his peridot eyes.
"He's right." Castiel broke in lowly. "The fault is not thine. Those men didst not come to the village seeking thee. The men were looking for someone. They burned the village because they did not find who they were looking for. So the fault belongs to them, not you."
"People are dead, because of me!" Dean yelled, poising to run back.
"And they'll still be dead even if you were to run back and try to save them!" Sam argued, pulling his horse in front of Dean. "What hath happened is awful, but we won't get anywhere by going back. Those people are dead Dean."
He hesitated, watching Sam's eyes mist over slightly. Dean came to the private realization that Sam was hurting too. His little brother was hurting just as much, maybe even more. Dean's eyes fell from his little brother to the ground. Sam was right. He didn't have to like it, but Sam was right. Those people who died in the fire weren't going to come back even if he rushed back there. He didn't have any magic or spell to go back in time either.
Dean prayed quietly for those people's souls. He didn't like to pray, but his mother always told him stories about angels when he was little. Plus he wanted those people to go in peace, to a better place. At least, he hoped that it was a better place. It was probably a mute point. "We should go." Dean muttered.
Sam nodded silently in agreement and turned his horse around. Dean guessed that Sam would be content to never see this place again. Sam was funny that way. He took one last look over the city that was now crumbling to ashes. A few fond memories of better days popped into his head causing another swell of guilt to wash over him. He swallowed hard, feeling a thick lump of saliva get stuck in his throat.
Then young Robin Hood did what was best for everyone and turned his back on the town. A place that he was growing into calling home. Just like that, he had nothing again. Nothing but Sam, his horse, and whatever Bobby had packed into his bag. The corners of his mouth turned down as he encouraged his horse to take the lead. Once in front of the rest of the group Dean slowed into a steady pace leading his comrades on into the quiet, dead of night. No words were exchanged between them. What was there to say?
Good job on getting the town you might have called home burned down?
Congratulations on screwing up again?
Dean already had crippling self esteem issues. Anything that could be said now would just be reaffirming it. No home, no self esteem, all he had was Sam. If he even had that, eventually Sam would probably leave too. He already did once before when he left the family for Jessica (not that Dean blamed him for it). Then he would have nothing. He wondered what it would feel like to give up on everything because he didn't have anything. What would it feel like to know that he was well and truly on his own?
The thought made him shudder. Cas road up along side of him and gave him quiet sympathetic eyes. The rest of his face was undecipherable. His lips were neither smiling nor frowning, his face lax and showing no other signs of strain or emotions. Just his eyes, cutting through despair and offering a small amount of comfort. Dean didn't want his pity. He rode a little faster hoping to drop a hint. Though Castiel wasn't the most observant person in the world, he didn't speed up to travel alongside Dean. He left Dean alone, to his own devices.
Silently Dean wished that Cas would have picked up on his underlying desire. The desire for company and warmth. But Castiel did what Dean pretended to want, he kept his distance.
The three road off into the night, silence hanging heavily in the air. There was nothing to say. After a few hours the three headed into a cave. They truly believed that they had lost whoever it was that was on their tails. Dean flopped down onto the earth in silence, he was exhausted.
Sam dismounted in a similar manner, landing on the hard earth. "It's been a long day, we'll pick it up in the morning." Dean said out loud. Sam frowned walking over and pulling his brother up by the collar.
"We need to talk. Now." Sam replied. Castiel walked his horse in last, letting her lay down against the wall. Dean let out a heavy sigh, this was the earful he thought he had escaped from earlier.
"I'll get a fire going." Castiel said quietly walking out of the cave to give them so privacy for a few minutes. Dean sunk down against the wall when Sam let go of him.
"What?" he whined loudly. Sam crossed his arms, his bottom lip in a little pout. "Is this about my being reckless or is it about Castiel?"
"Both." Sam answered. "If thee hadn't been so reckless, Castiel wouldn't hath had to come save you!"
"He didn't save me per say, I would hath thought of some plan." Dean reassured. Although he was pretty sure if Cas hadn't showed up he would have been in way more trouble. The truth was, Cas pulled him out of a corner. Which he supposed was fine, because Sam wasn't buying into his lie anyway. His eyes narrowed in skepticism, eyebrows furrowing.
"Dean." Sam said, his voice lowering into a register that was unusual for Sam. Dean always thought of him as his little brother so hearing his voice so deep was a bit surprising. "We've already had to bury mom and dad. Please don't make me hath to bury thee as well."
Dean rose to his feet, "Sam, I'm supposed to protect thee. Not the other way around."
"It's not thy job to take on everything with no back up! That's what I'm here for. I'm thy brother, I'm supposed to help you. I'm supposed to be your back up when no one else will. Ye can't just go off and do stupid things because you want to! I won't bury you too. I can't." Sam yelled.
"I..." Dean paused, walking over to the cave entrance. "I'm gonna go help Cas get firewood."
"Dean wait-"
But he was already gone, leaving his brother alone.
Dean walked outside, looking around for Castiel. He was crouched by the river, it was easy to find him since he had a glowing bird perched on his shoulder. Cas had a pile of branches and twigs, did he even know how to make a fire? Dean crouched next to him, sorting through the twigs that were on the ground. "So, why'd you do it?" Dean asked.
"Do what? Please be more specific." Cas replied without even giving Dean a glance.
The corners of Dean's mouth turned down, his eye twitching in frustration. What was it about this guy that made him so mad? "Save me, Cas. Why didst thou save me?"
"Does it matter?" Castiel asked, picking up a small log then looking curiously at the bugs below it.
"Yes." Dean replied. "What if I didn't want to be saved? What if I didn't need to be?"
"Why wouldn't you want to be saved?"
"I'm just-"
"Do you deserve to be saved Dean?"
"What?" Dean asked in a low voice.
"Do you deserve to be saved?" Castiel repeated, still gathering up some odds and ends. Dean hesitated, words getting jammed in his throat. If there were even any words there at all. He swallowed feeling even more irritated. He stalked away from Castiel, finding a clear patch where he could stare and watch the stars. Content to dream of the the stories his father told him when he was little.
Daphne, the daughter of Peneus, was Phoebus' (Apollo)
first love, and it was not by blind chance which
brought this about, but Cupid's savage spite. Not long before,
the Delian god, still exultant over his slaying of the serpant,
had seen Cupid bending his taut bow, and had said: "You
naughty boy, what have you to do with a warrior's arms?
Weapons such as these are suited to my shoulders: for
I can aim my shafts unerringly, to wound wild beast
or human foe, as I lately slew the bloated Python with my
countless arrows, though it covered so many acres with its
pestilential coils. You be content with your torch to excite
love, whatever that may be, and do not aspire to
praises that are my prerogative."
First off, I need to cite a source. I know weird, right? The story is a common one in Greek mythology, but it is taken as an excerpt from a book called 'The World of Myth' by David Adams Leemings. It will be referenced again in later chapters, so I felt the need to point it out. Dean likes mythology, aw. Cute. I'm sorry that I've been MIA lately but let's just say illness is not fun (it makes writing impossible). So I hope you guys like the new chapter because it took me forever to write it. I particularity enjoyed writing the chase scene. I wouldn't settle until I felt happy while reading it.
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