A/N: It's been a long time, I know, and I'm very sorry for that. Things like exams and little depressive episodes have kept me away. Thanks to Allen92909, JGVFHL, Grayswandir, SlytherinSpider and Ezza555 for your wonderful reviews.

Quick note: It was brought to my attention that last chapter wasn't that great so I have gone back and edited it.

Chapter 8

Dean stared incredulously at the young man in front of him, refusing to lower his gun. "Merlin?" he asked. "What sort of a name is that?"

"I.. uh," Merlin spluttered.

"Whatever. Look, if you're not a demon, what are you? An angel? Witch? Some other freak?"

Merlin looked affronted and held up a hand in protest. He was about to speak when a spluttering sound came from behind him and they all turned to see the blonde man shaking with laughter.

"Arthur," Merlin moaned. "It's not funny."

"Oh, lighten up a little Merlin. You know, I always said you were a girl."

Merlin sighed in frustration but Dean could see the corners of his mouth tugging up in a small smile. "I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it."

Dean, who had been barely following the conversation as it was, grabbed Merlin by the shoulder and spun him round to face him. "I don't know what's going on here, but I swear to God if you don't tell us who you are I will empty this into your face."

"Dean-" Cas interjected, but Dean silenced him with a glare.

"Well?" he prompted.

Merlin sagged a little in Dean's grasp and stared at the wet grass. "My name is Merlin, and this dollophead is Arthur. I'm a warlock, or sorcerer, and he's my king. We came from Camelot thousands of years ago and now some great evil is threatening this world so Arthur has returned to defeat it." He looked up suddenly and met Dean's hard eyes. "I was promised others would be here, and I've been dreaming about all of you for days now. Have you come to help us?"

Dean let go of Merlin and folded his arms, studying the young man. He didn't seem like your typical witch, but then again they could look like anyone. "Been dreaming about us huh? Sounds kinky. Dreaming what exactly?"

Merlin pointed at Sam. "He was in a basement somewhere. Someone was torturing him; I must say I am relieved to see you here and well." He turned back to Dean, his brows furrowing a little. "And the rest of you were searching for him. But you were in America and now you're here. How?"

"Doesn't matter," Dean said brusquely. Everything this guy had said had happened which only gave Dean more reason not to trust them. Plus, the sword, whilst awesome, the other guy was carrying didn't seem particularly friendly. Still, Dean had gotten pretty good at reading faces over the years and there was something in Merlin's eyes that told him he was telling the truth. He met Sam's eyes and nodded to a group of trees a little ways away. Telling Mary and Cas to keep an eye on them, he strode off, knowing Sam was behind him.

Once they were out of earshot, Dean turned to his brother. "What do you think?"

"I think we should trust them," Sam said. "They seem friendly enough."

"Dude, did you see the other guy? The- The armour and the sword? How does any of that scream 'friendly' to you?"

Sam shuffled uncomfortably, glancing back to the group. "Look, Dean, that guy said his name was Merlin, right?"

"Right."

"And he called the other guy Arthur."

"I'm not following."

"They said they were from Camelot. Haven't you heard the legend? That when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again?"

"Yeah, but those are just stories. Like the ones in that book you had when you were little."

Sam smiled a little at the memory but then his voice turned serious again. "Dean, if there's one thing we've learnt, it's that all legends have a source and most are true. Is it so hard to believe this one is too? I mean, all the information fits."

Dean frowned, still unconvinced. "Okay, but come on. You trying to tell me that this short, skinny guy is some sort of all powerful 'warlock'? And his friend is an ancient king from medieval times who died thousands of years ago only to come back again?"

Sam inclined his head and nodded. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't want to admit it, but he saw the logic in what Sam was saying and, besides, it was hardly the craziest thing they'd seen in the past few years. "Fine. We'll trust them. But if this goes sideways, I'm blaming your sorry ass."

Sam grinned and the two headed back to meet the others. Dean tried to feel positive but, despite his brother's reassurances, he still had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Arthur frowned in distrust at the four people before him. The short one was holding a strange silver weapon to Merlin's head and Arthur was tempted to attack him, but something told him the other man's strange instrument would be much quicker than Excalibur. He was also confused by their attire; each of them wore many layers of clothing made out of some odd material. He got the distinct impression that they were all warriors of some sort, perhaps even knights, and they had all seen many battles yet none wore any armour. The woman confused him more; what sort of king allowed a woman to fight for him? It wasn't unheard of for a woman to fight, and he remembered how competent both Morgause and Morgana had been, but they were never allowed into an army like this one surely was.

Once the one with the weapon had walked away with the tall one, Arthur turned to Merlin and tapped his shoulder. "What is going on, Merlin?" he asked.

Merlin flushed a brilliant red, like he had forgotten Arthur was there, which was a ridiculous thought. He made several gestures with his hands but no words came out; an old habit from the days of Camelot that had annoyed Arthur no end. He was finding it no less irritating now. "What, Merlin?"

"Well, you see, Arthur, just after you died, the Dragon gave me a prophecy. He-"

"The Dragon?" Arthur interrupted, frowning slightly. "I thought I'd killed him."

"Ah. Yes. About that-"

"You can tell me later. Carry on."

"He said that when the world needed you most, you would return. But he didn't say when, so I've been waiting for years. A few weeks ago I started dreaming about these people and then Freya came to me and told me thing were stirring in the Veil. I think she sent you back to kill it, but she also told me that we would need help doing so. I don't know how these people knew to come here but-"

"Freya contacted us, also," a gravelly voice from Arthur's left said. He turned to see a blue-eyed man with some sort of brown cloak on stood next to them. Arthur faced him coldly but, before he could say anything, Merlin gasped and pointed at the man.

"Who are you?" he asked wonderingly. The strange man tilted his head, confused.

"My name is Castiel," he began.

"No, I mean what are you?" Merlin corrected. Arthur stared at him; there seemed to be nothing wrong with this man. Indeed, he was much friendlier than the other one had been. However, Castiel's face cleared and he nodded in understanding.

"I'm an angel," he replied.

"An- An angel?" Apparently even Merlin was struggling to understand this, which was a small comfort to Arthur. "I suppose that explains those wings."

Arthur's brows knitted as he stared at Merlin; he could see no wings, and apparently Castiel felt the same way as he wore the same confused expression he had a few moments ago.

"How can you see those?" Castiel asked.

"I... can't. Not really anyway. It's like the air is distorted around them. Like a mirage," Merlin slowly explained. Or not; if anything, it left Arthur more confused than before. He sighed and pushed his way between the two, forcing the attention back to him.

"Merlin, I demand you explain right now," he commanded.

Merlin sighed wearily. "It's a long story," he started but, at that moment, the other two men came back. Arthur glared at them but said nothing as they quickly took charge.

"I'd like to hear that story too," the shorter one said. He pointed at Merlin. "Have you got anywhere we could hole up for a while?"

Arthur scoffed, about to tell them that Merlin was far too poor to afford much more than two rooms, let alone somewhere large enough for six people, but he was once again surprised.

"Yeah," Merlin said reluctantly. "It's not far."

It had been a strange day for Mary. First she had been teleported to another continent by an angel (an actual, real angel), then rescued her 30 year old son (who had been just 6 months the last time she had seen him) and now they were apparently in the company of a centuries old warlock and a young king recently returned from the dead. Life as a hunter had forced her to get used to all kinds of crazy, but she wasn't sure she could take much more today without her head threatening to explode.

She knew, of course, about Camelot and Merlin and King Arthur; she had bought Dean a book of Arthurian legends for his third birthday. She was just struggling to believe they were actually real - and far different to anything she had pictured. Merlin was supposed to be an old man yet here he was: an innocent young boy who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and answered to 'manservant'. And Arthur...

Arthur appeared to be every inch the stoic king on the surface, but underneath Mary could see a broken boy who had been handed too much all at once. She saw that look in her sons, and in Merlin, but it was clearest in Arthur. He looked so very lost in this new time so she fell into step beside him as they followed Merlin to his house.

"It must be difficult for you," she began. Arthur looked curiously at her and a thoughtful expression came over his face.

"Yes," he replied after a few seconds. "I used to walk this land freely with my knights and now I cannot recognise it." He sighed sadly. "The world is much changed."

Mary smiled ruefully. "Tell me about it. I haven't been gone for as long as you, but even 33 years is enough to make the world unrecognisable to me."

"So you are not from this time either?" Arthur asked. He gazed at her for a moment then nodded his head firmly. "You remind me of my mother," he informed her.

"How?" Mary asked, touched.

"I can't say, not exactly. My mother died when I was a baby but I heard stories of her kindness and her bravery from my father and other nobles. She was a good woman, and I think you are too."

They walked in silence from there. Mary thought about what Arthur had told her and realised that his upbringing wouldn't have been much different to that of Sam and Dean - learning to fight as soon as they could walk, being told stories of a dead mother by a grieving father, becoming hardened warriors by their teens, it all felt very familiar. She knew Dean still had his misgivings about trusting these two strangers, but Mary knew in her heart that they had made the right decision.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! Please leave a review if you have a moment and I will update as quick as possible! Bye!