DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction using characters from the Supernatural and Ladyhawke universe. I do not claim any ownership. This work is solely for entertainment purposes and is not considered film or tv canon (not by a long shot).

Castiel looked around the barn he'd chosen for their night's shelter. It was nothing fancy, but it was dry at least. The hawk regarded him steadily.

"Are you hungry, Sam?" Castiel asked, leaning close to the raptor but not so close as to get his eye pecked out. "Do you even understand me, Sam? Do you understand Dean when he talks to you? For all I know, you could be carrying on lengthy debates with Impala whilst our backs are turned!"

The hawk chirped calmly and settled its wings. Castiel gently stroked the bird's breast and then let his fingers travel down the wings. The feathers lay neatly as they should. He felt a quick pang.

"You care for your wings as a good hawk should, Sam. Do not take them for granted - there are those who would clip your wings and then you would be trapped in day and in night," Castiel murmured. "Never let them take your wings, Sam ... "

Shaking himself from his grim reverie, Castiel sighed. He looked at the bird. "I have had hawk before ... it was chewy and gamey. Not much of a delicacy, but filling."

The hawk did not react and Castiel's shoulders dropped. He walked over to the barn entrance and watched the rain soak the land. He sighed again. "Serves me right for getting involved in this nightmare ... nightmare ... no, day-mare ... day without night and night without day? What does that even mean, Sam? No wonder your brother doesn't want to hear about it – perhaps Singer is mad ... none of this makes any sense!"

The hawk began to chirp and flutter its wings frantically. Castiel glanced out and the sky seemed even darker and it was not all from the clouds. "Sunset ... I should let you change in peace ... I'll just stand out here ..." Castiel stepped outside but stayed just under the eaves of the barn. Villagers dressed in their best homespun ran to get inside out of the rain. He noticed a wagon, bedecked with flowers and greenery – Castiel guessed a wedding was taking place. Packages and bundles were being placed in the wagon and carefully covered. Castiel had a sudden idea. Looking back at the hawk, he held his hands up. "Wait, Sam! Just wait a moment!"

Running into the deluge, Castiel ducked his head and went quickly to the wagon. Looking around to ensure he wasn't observed, Castiel sorted through the items in the wagon and pulled out two bundles.

I know, Lord. Stealing ... eighth on the list ... but without it, Sam will be naked. Even Adam and Eve got animal skins, Lord, Castiel prayed. He smiled up at the sky but only the storm answered him.

Holding his prize close to his body, Castiel splashed back to the barn and pushed the door open. He separated the bundles and walked over to the hawk. It was crying restlessly. Castiel put the clothes over a nearby support and said, "I cannot vouch for the fit, Sam but fortunately the groom looks to be a giant like you. Take your time!"

With that, Castiel left the barn and shut the doors. It was nothing to him to see a naked man but he had no idea how modest Sam Winchester might be so it was better to err on the side of caution. He pulled his own soiled clothes off and changed into the ones he'd procured. Once finished he glanced up at the sky and listened at the barn door. It should have been long enough, so Castiel tapped on the wood.

"Sam! I'm coming in!" Castiel announced, pushing on the door.

He entered the warm barn, filled with the comfortably familiar scents of animals and hay. His eyes settled on the tall young man stepping out from behind one of the stalls. Sam grinned easily and plucked at his shirt.

"You?" At Castiel's nod, Sam chuckled. "Thanks."

Sam looked around the barn musing on all the many strange places he'd awakened in over the past few years. He looked over at Castiel again.

"How's Dean?"

Castiel cleared his throat. "He's alive, like you ... full of hope, like you. He ... he left you in my charge."

Sam leaned against one of the support pillars and looked at Castiel. His mouth twitched with barely controlled mirth. "Oh he did, did he?"

Castiel nodded gravely. "He said – tell Samuel we two speak as one and he will follow your instructions as my own."

Sam looked at Castiel somberly and then he burst into laughter. Castiel pursed his lips in annoyance but after a moment, Sam's infectious humor had him laughing as well. Sam wiped at his eyes as he calmed himself.

"Castiel the angel, you are the funniest person I've met in ... well, ever, I suppose," Sam said.

Sam turned with a last snicker and looked at Impala, who was stabled and groomed. He smiled and ran his hand down the stallion's mane. "Hello, Impala," Sam whispered. There was no humor in his eyes as he looked over to Castiel and asked, "He's taking us back to Aquila, isn't he?"

Impala nickered softly and bumped his head against Sam's shoulder. Castiel rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. Sam sighed and pulled his hand down over his face in frustration.

"Damn it, Dean ..." Sam muttered. He looked at the barn's roof and sighed. "So, Castiel the angel ... what do you instruct?"

The strains of the wedding celebration drifted across from the main house to the barn. Castiel turned to listen for a moment before looking back at Sam.

"I instruct you to sit by a warm fire ... to have a cup of wine and ... to listen to bright music cheerfully played. Perhaps dance." Castiel grinned.

Sam shook his head. "You are ... different, Castiel. I see why my brother likes you ... why he trusts you."

Castiel blushed. "Your brother is ... he is a man that many would put their faith in – I can see how he rose to captain of the guard so quickly."

Sam nodded. "Dean is a leader, no matter how much he will protest that he is not. His men would follow him anywhere and in battle ... Castiel, there is no more awe-inspiring sight than to see my brother, sword in hand, cutting a swathe through his enemies."

"You love him a great deal, Sam," Castiel observed.

"He is the reason I am here instead of serving the twisted lust of an evil man," Sam said softly, kicking at the straw beneath his feet. "He thinks he has failed me but this half-life is still better than the no-life I would have had as the Bishop's toy. Dean will always take the brunt of the blame in any situation. Our father ... he did not mean it so, but he laid a heavy burden on my brother when our mother died. I was but an infant ... father gave me to Dean and told him to run, to take care of me and keep me safe. Dean has been doing that ever since." Sam sighed. "I am too much like my father and we argued often. He loved Dean, I know that ... but he never truly saw Dean. My brother is an amazing man, Castiel and our father never knew that ... he never saw the utter devotion that his eldest son gave him without question."

Castiel regarded Sam sadly. "I suppose it is well that you see him, Sam. He is fortunate to have you in his life."

Sam looked up with a smile. "We are both fortunate to have you in our lives, Castiel. Shall I show you something?"

Castiel nodded. Sam went to Impala's saddle bags and pulled the thick leather-bound journal. Castiel looked at it curiously when Sam handed it to him. "I saw this ... when I was getting ... when you were hurt."

Sam smiled. "It was my father's. He wrote down everything he knew in this journal. It was his most precious possession. Dean and I grew up traveling from city to city as he sought knowledge. We never stayed any place too long ... father would talk to scholars and they would tell him of other places to seek what he wanted to know. Dean raised me for the most part."

Sam turned the pages to the middle of the book. Castiel looked at the writing and the drawings. They were in a child's hand – deliberately formed letters and sketches that were not always clear, but were painstakingly colored. "Your work?"

Sam shook his head. "Dean." He pointed to a lopsided circle with many little lines filling it until it looked like a web. Each tiny space was colored in with ink. "We were in Paris. That is the north rose window at Notre-Dame – Dean's version, anyway." He pointed to a few fearsome looking creatures shaded with dark lines. "Those are the gargoyles – he liked them a great deal."

Castiel smiled at the drawings. He could picture a young Dean, tongue sticking out as he carefully drew and colored in his father's journal. Castiel could almost see the hazel eyes focused with the eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he tried to make his entry perfect. He frowned slightly at the large ink splotch near the bottom of the page. He pointed to it. "It would appear he knocked over the inkwell."

Sam's eyes grew sad again and he sighed, running his fingertips over the stain. "He did ... when my father caught him writing in the journal and punished him."

Castiel blinked in shock. "But ... why?"

"He did not think Dean a scholar ... he thought he was mocking his life's work. Dean was trying to do what nearly every son tries to do – he wanted to be like his father. Dean was nine ... I was five but I remember that day very clearly. I helped him remember the details of what we had seen so he could draw them. After father ... Dean never touched the journal again unless commanded. He never looked at the statues again and he never regarded the colors of the world again. My father was a soldier as well as a scholar and he taught Dean a great deal. Dean surpassed him before his fifteenth year. He would have been with him in Antioch, but father left him behind. I suspect he intended him to watch over me, as usual." Sam looked down at the pages as he turned them slowly. "Dean came here alone because I wanted to stay at school. After father died, Dean came and took me away. I was not ... gracious about it."

"You were ... are ... a young man, Sam. It is only natural that you rebel." Castiel offered.

"Perhaps. It wasn't until all this darkness descended that I began to see my brother for who he truly is ... and now I understand my brother's heart and what he gave up for me." Sam looked at Castiel directly. "I think that my brother has taken to you, Castiel. If you do not wish to return his feelings ... do not lead him on. He deserves better than that."

Castiel swallowed and his blush returned. He did not know what to say, so he looked back to the journal. A few pages past Dean's entry he found a sketch of the two brothers. Sam was reading and Dean sat beside him, dagger in hand looking out to the distance. The elder Winchester's expression was the same as he carried now – grim and focused. Gone was the child who had once drawn a pretty window. Sam nodded.

"I think father knew what he had done in anger, but it was too late to take it back," Sam explained.

"I do ... I do care about your brother, Sam. But ... we hardly know one another so I cannot say ... I do not know where this will lead," Castiel said softly. "But I will tread carefully."

Sam nodded. He carefully closed the journal and put it back in the saddlebag. "You mentioned something about wine and dancing, Castiel the angel?"

Castiel laughed. "Indeed I did, Winchester the younger."

Together, the two walked out the barn door intending to run to the main house. They walked directly into the side of a horse laden with wolf-skins. Sam drew up short with a shout.

"NO!" The voice that emerged from Sam was deepened with fear, but it was no boy that cried out ... it was a man with a man's anger. "No! What ... what is this ... who are you ...?"

"Sam!" Castiel said urgently, trying to calm the young man down. "Sam! Get inside ... go! Get inside the barn!"

Castiel shoved Sam hard and the tall frame finally relented and he went back inside. Putting himself between the barn door and the rider and his pack horse, Castiel raised Dean's sword. He'd picked it up as they left to cross the yard. The man on the horse smiled and his eyes seemed to glimmer with a sick yellow hue.

"Sam? Ah – Sammy boy," the man murmured.

"If you lay one hand on him, you will find it on the ground next to your head!" Castiel snarled, brandishing the sword. He vaguely wondered where inside himself this savage bravado had emerged from. "Ride on!"

"Easy, little man," the rider mocked. "You're frightening me."

"Are you deaf?" Castiel yelled. "Ride on!"

The man laughed and guided his horses down the lane and off into the wood. Castiel chased him, lugging the heavy sword. He was still shouting.

"If you turn around, you're dead!"

The man laughed more loudly and disappeared into the night. Castiel sighed and turned to walk back to the barn. He was stunned to see the doors open and Sam ride out into the darkness on Impala. As Sam rode past Castiel, he leaned over in the saddle and snatched the sword from the thief's hands. Then he straightened and followed the wolf-hunter's path. Castiel stood in the rain and the dark long after the sound of hooves had faded away.

"Dean is going to kill me. He is going to kill me and cut me into very tiny pieces, Lord," Castiel said to himself. He looked up at the night sky. "This has to be the worst night ever!"