We're almost at the end now. BTW, I decided to name the village Dean and Sam are from "Kiminski." It's Danny Kaye's actual last name, and while it's not Danish, it's still a freaking awesome name. I have huge love for Danny Kaye, so I guess it's my homage to him playing Hans Christian Andersen all those years ago and contributing to my childhood a bit. I took my mom to Solvang a few years ago, which is a Danish village a few hours from where I live in California, and when we saw there was a bust of HCA in the park, I was disappointed that he didn't look anything like Danny Kaye.

Chapter Five: Homeward Bound

The climb up the mountain was easier said than done. It was hard, slippery, cold, and long, but after three days of trekking and one pretty terrible fall, Sam managed to make it to the top, leading his horse since riding had become impossible due to the steepness of the mountain.

At the top, Sam looked around to get his bearings. The palace loomed large and icy blue ahead of him, standing taller than the trees in his way. It took him until the late evening to reach it, and were it not for the large, full moon riding high in the sky and reflecting brightly off the snow, he would have had to camp for the night. As it was, he reached the doors just before midnight and pushed them open, surprised that they weren't locked.

He wandered around until he found the throne room. Dean was cuddled under a blanket by the fire, which was dying slowly.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, running to his brother, his footfalls echoing through the long, cavernous room.

Dean stirred, looking around bewildered. "Sammy?"

Sam threw himself into Dean's arms, carelessly sprawling in his lap. He was too happy to see his brother to care how it might look, and he held on tightly, tears slipping down from his eyes and down his cheeks. He pressed his wet cheek to Dean's, and the hot, salty tears melted away Frost's kiss that had lingered on Dean's cheek and held him under Castiel's thrall. Dean actually felt the moment that Castiel's spell broke. The fog that had weighed him down these many weeks finally lifted, dissipating completely, leaving in its wake an ache for Castiel that no enchantment could have created.

The letter rustled against his chest in his pocket, reminding him of Castiel's final words. He would read it, but not yet. He was still too angry at Castiel for leaving him. Besides, he had Sam back. Sam was in his arms, holding him as close as a brother. Sam loved him, and so did Bobby.

"I missed you, Sammy," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. I'm so sorry I left you."

Sam pulled back and laughed. "Jeez, I'm on your lap."

Dean laughed too. "You're such a girl, Sam." But he said it fondly and with a smile. If Castiel could just leave him, after all they shared, then he could leave too.

"We should get out of here," Sam said, standing and looking around anxiously. "King Frost…"

"He's not coming back," Dean told him. "Not for a while. Rest up. I think there's food in the kitchen."

They both made their way down to the basement kitchen and Dean built up the fire while Sam filled the kettle and started setting out enough food for a king.

"We should take it all with us," Sam decided. "After what King Frost did to you, he owes you."

Dean was too hurt by Castiel to set Sam straight, but he still cared for him too much to agree, so he remained silent. Besides, he was sure that Castiel would not have objected to Dean taking food. In fact, he seemed intent on giving Dean everything he could, just like he had with the young girl in the woods.

"Was it really bad?" Sam asked between bites. "Did he…hurt you?"

Dean shook his head. "No, he hardly touched me." Not until Dean practically forced himself on him. A wave of guilt washed over Dean when he thought about Castiel. No wonder he had left. Dean had…well, it wasn't rape because Castiel was right there with him, but he remembered how reluctant Castiel had been the entire time Dean had been there. Then there was his impassioned speech about how he was so lonely, and would be lonelier still if Dean loved him and left him…

Dean gulped. He had promised himself he would be there for Castiel, stay with him always. And now he was going to leave him.

"I can't believe he's not here," Sam murmured around a mouthful.

Dean found his appetite was gone. "I'm, um…gonna go get ready to leave. I have clothes and things to bring with me."

Sam nodded enthusiastically. "Bring that robe you're wearing, too. I bet those jewels will fetch a pretty penny for us. He owes you, Dean."

Dean gulped down the lump in his throat. He owed Cas, plain and simple. He owed him so much.

The letter moved against his breast, and he found himself nodding at Sam. "Yeah, I'll bring the robe." It smelled like Cas.

}O{

They were gone by morning, on their way back down the mountain. Dean had packed the horse up with some of the choice things that would remind him of Castiel's palace along with three big, fluffy pillows for himself, Sam and Bobby. They didn't have luxury like feather beds and pillows in his little village. All of the clothes he had worn were brought too, as well as the robe he had stolen from Castiel's bedroom. He refused to bring anything else, though. Even when Sam wanted to bring silver or gold, he just shook his head. It seemed wrong to do that to Cas, somehow. They did take all the food, however, and Dean found a long robe for Sam, and then they were on their way.

Going down the mountain for Sam was easier than going up. They slipped a bit, as did the horse, but it was all in the direction they wanted to go in, so Dean counted it as a good thing, even when his ankle felt like it would snap in two from him twisting it so much.

They spent two nights on the mountain. Dean created a lean-to out of one of the thick blankets Castiel would use to wrap himself in and Sam created a nice fire. They slept back-to-back under a heap of warm blankets on top of a huge fur pelt Sam had taken from Ruby's lair. After more than a month of sleeping on feathered ticks, sleeping on the cold, hard ground was a rude awakening for Dean. He wasn't sure when he had gotten soft, but he was determined to harden up again.

They were back at Anna's castle after a week. She welcomed Sam with a smile and open arms, and Inias was happy to see Sam as well. They threw a huge party for the brothers which meant even more clothes for them to bring with them. Dean joked that they were going to need a wardrobe at home to hang up all their clothes. Sam just scoffed and said that he'd sell everything and use the money to attend the university.

They ended up having an argument because of this. Dean had no idea that Sam had ever wanted to attend the university. He assumed he and Sam would always be together in some way, but it turned out that Sam wished to attend law school. What was worse was that when Anna found out, she had a letter of recommendation written for Sam immediately and several books were added to their already growing cache of items. Dean found himself begrudging Sam the idea of going to university. Somehow, he felt that since he was forced to be giving up Castiel, Sam should be forced to give up something too. Instead, it seemed that Sam would be getting all of his dreams in one sweep.

Dean tried his hardest to distract himself from all these changes that would be happening in his life, but nothing seemed to hold his attention. The maids were lovely, but they weren't Castiel. Samandriel was for about five minutes a good substitute, but when he tried to turn on his usual charm, it just didn't seem to come to him. Besides, it was hard to turn to someone as adorable and innocent as Samandriel when Dean had already tasted Castiel's sweetness.

"You ruined me, Cas," he said out loud on the night of the party, alone in his room. He looked in his mirror, wondering if Castiel was watching him. He hoped he was. He hoped Castiel saw how handsome he looked in the bright green velvet jacket Anna had commissioned for him. His eyes reflected the color, and he remembered that Castiel directed that most of his clothes should be green.

The letter stayed in his pocket, always with him, for when he was ready to read it. He didn't know when the moment might strike him. He had taken to holding it in his hand and tracing his name in Castiel's handwriting. It was nice, concise writing with just the smallest hint of flourish on the "N".

}o{

Anna and Inias were sad to see the brothers leave them. Dean had assumed they would be happy to see their backs, but Sam explained one night that Samandriel had been presumed dead, and because of his story, Anna had taken a shine to Sam's story. Dean decided to not tell Sam that Anna was Castiel's cousin. He figured she was just being nice to him because Castiel asked her to.

The letter pressed against his chest when he thought about Castiel watching him at Anna's, maybe even asking her questions about him. Did Castiel care? Did he ask her to be so nice to them? Were all the gifts she was handing him really from Castiel by proxy?

It was too much to think about, and probably the answers were in the letter, and still he couldn't find his way to opening it. He was still too angry, too hurt.

They were sent home in a carriage with guards riding around them on all sides to keep them protected. They kept to the main roads and slept in public houses and hotels on the way home, which was brand new to Dean. In the village of Kiminski, the only people to sleep at the pub were those visiting the prostitute. Since Dean had no need of her services, he never slept there. Sleeping in the ones on the road didn't really make him regret that decision. The beds were nice and clean, and the food was pretty good, but the noise of people coming in and going out all night was distracting, and there was a strange pervasive smell of burnt stew all throughout the places.

They arrived at their little village of Kiminski after five days of travel, and the carriage went directly to the blacksmith. Bobby came out to meet them, no doubt believing that important people needed him to help with a thrown shoe or broken axel. Dean's heart lurched in his chest at the sight of Bobby's drawn, tired face. He was obviously down a good twenty pounds and dark circles were under his eyes. His usually trimmed beard was bushy and messy, and his clothes were rumpled and stained. All of the good feeling Dean and Sam had been building up with their gifts and their adventure deflated at the sight of all that Bobby had lost in their absence.

Sam didn't wait for the footman; he opened the carriage door and stepped down light and quick, taking his father by the shoulders.

"Sir," Bobby said, nodding and bowing. "How can I help you?"

Tears formed in Sam's eyes. Bobby wouldn't even look at him. "Papa," he said, his voice breathy with disbelief. "Papa, what happened?"

Bobby looked up sharply, eyes narrowing as he took in Sam's familiar face, clean and clear, smiling happily, dressed finer than a king. "Sam?"

Dean pushed his brother out of the way as he exited the carriage. He had given Sam and Bobby as much alone time as he could stand, but homesickness was finally catching up to him all at once, and he found himself hungry for Bobby's strong embrace. "Bobby," he said as he clambered down. "Bobby, it's us."

A tear fell from Bobby's eye, the first Dean had ever seen. "Dean?" he asked, still incredulous. "My boys…" and then he finally seemed to accept that it was them because a huge smile broke out over his face. "My boys!" he crowed, pulling them both down to him in a huge, fatherly hug. "Thank the lord, my boys are home."

Dean and Sam both warmed in his embrace, hugging him back, the three of them standing in the middle of the road, hugging, crying, and talking over each other so that nothing was heard.

Anna's servants were busy while the reunion was happening. They unloaded the many trunks that Anna had sent, kindly carrying everything to the front of the little cottage, and by the time the trio was calm enough to say goodbye, everything was unloaded and the coachmen and guards were ready to be on their way.

"Can I offer you anything?" Bobby asked, hoping they'd say yes. "Reshoe the horses, anything?"

The coachman handed Bobby a thick letter that reminded Dean of his own thick letter, still resting unopened against his heart. "This is from my queen," the coachman said. "All I request from you is that you read it and live a long and happy life. The three of you are welcome at Queen Anna's palace at any time, and it would be my pleasure to look upon you all again."

With that, they were gone, and Bobby closed his shop so that he could bring his boys inside the house and fuss over them like an old hen. His first order of business was to brew tea and heat up stew while Sam and Dean began to unload the giant trunks, finding useful things like bolts of cloth, cloaks, carpets and tapestries, but also strange sundries like ink, quills, brooches, a box of the rolls that Dean had taken a liking to and a tin of tea that Sam had similarly become addicted to. Marzipans shaped like fruit, actual fruit, tea cakes and other candied delicacies took up a good portion of one trunk, and books the rest of it. Sam's letter of recommendation to any university he might wish to study law at was a part of these books.

Bobby was amazed by each new thing that came out of the trunks. Finally, he stroked his hand over a bit of brocade and whistled. "You idjits had better not be spoiled. I ain't got time for spoiled little boys." His words were gruff, but his eyes were soft. "You'd both better start at the beginning and tell me everything," he said at last.

They started at the beginning, and by the end of the night and the rolls, the pot of stew, and a good portion of the tea, they reached the end of it. Dean didn't leave anything out, and both Sam and Bobby had a lot to say on the subject of Castiel.

"I think you need to read his letter," was Bobby's opinion.

"I think he should toss it in the fire," was Sam's. "He was under an enchantment, everything he felt was colored by that."

"Please," Bobby scoffed. "You can't manufacture that sort of emotion, Sam. And if Castiel kept pushing him away…"

Dean stood. "I have to make the decision by myself," he reminded them. "I'm going to read it. I just don't know when."

Sam made a noise of derision, but Bobby slapped the back of his head. "Have some respect, Sam. Dean knows his own heart."

Sam looked down, slightly ashamed of himself. If Dean was really in love with Castiel, then he would be leaving them forever. Sam, of course, did not think about how Dean might feel about him going off to university to be a lawyer. In Sam's mind, he could do that and still be a part of the family, but to Dean, Sam going away to university would mean that he would leave them forever for the wonders of a large city.

Their first days back in Kiminski were spent making calls on their neighbors, fattening Bobby back up, and cleaning the house. It seemed that Bobby had become a bit of a slob in their absence, and the brothers were in slight awe at the amount of garbage Bobby felt comfortable living around. Eventually, however, they integrated themselves back into their society, Sam went back to school and Dean to the blacksmith shop, the little cottage went back to being neat and snug, and Bobby's beard went back to being trimmed even as his belly grew and his smile returned to his face.

The villagers started to look at Sam and Dean strangely after their adventures, and it wasn't just because they were now dressed so well. Their faces started to hold secrets that those of Kiminski couldn't understand if they didn't venture outside the safe walls of the village. Because of this, the brothers were now considered oddities in an unapproachable way. Those that had always known them were still familiar and kind to them, but those that didn't now gave them a wide berth. The boys at school that had once picked on Sam and singled him out now stared at him in awe, afraid that offending him might bring about some supernatural wrath. Sam found the new deference to be even more isolating than their former hostility, but he said nothing of it to either Bobby or Dean because there was really nothing to be done about it. The more he thought about it, the more Sam started to think that he didn't really belong in this place, and the thought frightened him.

}O{

It took Dean two months to read Castiel's letter. For the first month, he carried it with him wherever he went in his breast pocket. He would take it out now and then and look at it, trace his name, think about Castiel, wonder what he thought as he wrote it. He would stare at the crest in the wax seal, run his fingers over the indentations until it was nearly flat, and just think over everything he had been through, and how reading the letter might change everything.

Finally, though, he took a knife, cut the seal, and sat down by the candle to read.

My Dear Dean,

Knowing you, it is many months since we have last seen each other. I do not know what you think of me after how we left things, or rather, how I left you. I need you to know that leaving you that day was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I know you do not understand why I had to go, but Sam needed a chance to win your heart back. I am positive that he did. I am sure that you desire no rehash of what passed between the two of us, but I must confess that I have no regrets—but no, that is not quite accurate—I have but one, and that is that you were under enchantment when we lay together. I will cherish our moments for my life, but there will always be a taint of magic overshadowing it. Knowing that you did not truly, fully give yourself to me is a true regret. But again, I promised to not dwell upon a memory that, for you, must be painful. You must forgive me for holding it so dear.

My true purpose for writing is not to recount our clandestine moments, but to tell you about your father. Dean, your father is under a curse and has been for these last fourteen years, indeed since the death of your excellent mother. He has searched the world in vain for the one who killed your dear mother, not knowing that all the while he was laboring for the very person who ended her life.

Lord Alastair comes from the Southern Kingdoms, under King Lucifer. Alastair is of no relation to me, and while Lucifer is a cousin (one of Gabriel's brothers, to be more precise), I hold no influence over him or his lands. Indeed, I am nearly powerless in the South, where Winter and Frost rarely visit. I will help where I can, but if you choose to free him from his enchantment, you will need all of your cunning and skill. I beg of you, Dean, be careful. If not for my sake, then for that of Sam, Bobby, and your father. I have every faith in you to stay alive. I know you can.

If it ever pleases you to remember me, I will be

Affectionately Yours,

Castiel, King Frost

Dean wasn't sure how he felt when he first read the letter. There were so many parts to it, so many things to assault him at once, such as Castiel's belief that Dean would regret any part of their coupling, or that he would remember it as anything other than wonderful. That was overshadowed by the idea that his father might still be alive, the hope that flared within him at that pronouncement. Then there was the thought of traveling to the South, where snow and frost held little footing. Even when he was with his father, they never ventured too far south.

Of course, it took him a while to broach the subject with Bobby and Sam, and of course they were both torn between wanting Dean to reunite with his father, and wanting him safe. In the end, both resolved that if Dean were to go, then they would go as well.

Dean was, of course, against this course of action.

"No way," he said when they brought it up over dinner. "No, my dad's already in trouble, I'm not gonna put you two in danger too."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And yet we're just supposed to let you go off on your own?"

"Yes," Dean said, crossing his arm and mimicking Sam's eyebrow raise.

"Bull," was Bobby's answer. "Come on, Dean, you'll need us. You said that both Gabriel and Castiel said that Sam is a natural at questing, and I ain't just a pretty face myself. We can help you. If Castiel's magic can't work that far away, you'll really need us."

"And we need you," Sam continued stubbornly. "You're a part of our family now, Dean. You're my brother, in more than just spirit."

Dean glared at them both. This was singularly unfair. "Okay, fine, you can come, but…don't get killed."

Bobby's lips twisted into a smile beneath his beard. "We'll try our hardest not to," he quipped.