A/N: Thank you Iamsuperwholocked27, hellosweetpea, and WarpedMinded for your reviews! This will definitely be a plot-packed fic, and I've gotten even better at cliffhangers. There will be fluff, but also angst galore.
Also, shout out to Doctor Who for being so reference-able.
Chapter Two
Dean's mouth fell open. "What?" he hissed.
Sam opened the journal to a bookmarked page and began to read. "This evening, Kate told me she was pregnant. I don't know how it happened, I was so careful. Mary doesn't know, and I've made the decision not to tell her. I feel terribly about all of this, but I know I can't leave Kate with her abusive husband. I will stop this affair, but maybe Kate can work in the castle as a maid. The child can be raised as a Milligan, but I can still look after him."
Sam paused and flipped a few more pages. "This is a month later. Kate has decided to name the boy Adam, after her father. She's settling into her position well, and understands that our relations have ended, permanently. Sammy's birthday is tomorrow, and she kindly knitted him a scarf."
Dean sat back in his chair, staring at the wood of the table. "Adam Milligan," he said, disbelieving. "Adam… is our half-brother?"
Sam nodded. "According to this, he is."
"Adam, like Charlie's assistant Adam."
"Yeah." There was a moment of silence. "I don't think he knows."
After another minute, Dean rose from his chair and opened the door. "Donna?"
"Yes, Your Majesty?" the guard asked.
"Will you please retrieve Adam Milligan from the kitchens for me? Bring him back here."
Donna bowed her head and was off. "Dean," Sam said warningly. "Be nice to him. He's done nothing wrong." Dean knew this was true, but he was seething inside. He was angry, but at his father. John had been unfaithful to Mary. Mary, the sweetest woman in the world. John had gone behind her back, and hadn't even told her about it.
He focused on breathing deeply and telling himself that it wasn't Adam's fault.
When the boy came in, he looked nervous as hell.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he said quietly, bowing low. "You wanted to see me?"
"Have a seat, Adam," Sam said gently. Adam stood there for a second, surely shocked that the king and the prince wanted him to sit at a conference table with him. With a shaky nod, Adam obeyed and put his hands in his lap.
"Do you know who your father was?" Dean asked, keeping his voice steady.
"Uh, no sir," Adam shook his head. "Mom told me he was married and had to go back to another kingdom when he found out she was pregnant. He sent me letters on my birthday, though."
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Go get them," Dean ordered.
Adam sent him a confused look and nodded. He was gone for less than ten minutes before he returned with a small stack of letters. He fiddled with them.
"How long have you been receiving these letters?" Sam asked.
"It started when I was five, and then every year from then." Adam frowned at the table. "Didn't get one last year though." Dean closed his eyes. Last year, after their father had been killed during the First Rebellion. Adam would never get one again.
"How old are you?" Dean asked. If Sam was seven when Adam was born, and Sam was twenty-three now, then that would mean Adam was-
"Sixteen, Your Majesty." Yep. That was it. There was only one thing left to compare. Dean held his hand out for the letters, and Adam's eyes widened.
"We don't need to know what they say," Sam began, "we just need to look at the handwriting."
Adam cleared his throat and handed one over. It was yellowed and worn, as if he had taken it out and read it many times. Dean took it out carefully and flipped it open, Sam leaning over his shoulder.
"It's…" Dean took a deep breath. "It's his." It was their father's handwriting, no doubt about that. Sam opened John's journal, and the letters matched perfectly. Adam was Sam and Dean's half-brother.
Dean closed the envelope gently and handed the letter back to Adam. Sam was quiet, waiting for Dean to decide what to do. Not as a king, as an older brother.
"Adam," Dean began, and stopped. Did he straight up tell him? It would change Adam's life for sure. He'd be somewhat royal by blood, but also John's bastard son. The older Winchester sighed. The kid at least deserved the truth.
"Adam," he began again, "your father was John Winchester."
The younger boy sat still for a minute. "No, Your Majesty, he's from another village."
"This is our father's journal," Sam held up John's book. "In it, he writes about an affair with your mother, Kate Milligan." Adam's face went white. "He wrote that he gave her a position as a maid so he could look after you. You're our half-brother."
"That's… I…" Adam tried to grasp the concept.
"It's your choice if you want us to keep quiet about this," Dean said softly. "You can keep your life just the way it is, if you want. If you go public, you'll be recognized as the bastard son of the late king. We'll protect you through that, but it is ultimately your choice."
Adam's head dropped into his hands. "I don't know," he muttered. Sam had his most sympathetic puppy-dog face on, and Dean tried not to roll his eyes. "I don't want this." He sounded like he was about to cry.
Sam moved to pat him on the back, and Dean folded the letter carefully before slipping it back into the envelope. "You are free to continue working in the castle, if you'd like," the king said, standing up. "Family is important to the Winchesters, however short of a time we've known that you're family. You have Winchester blood in your veins, and we will respect your wishes."
Adam sniffed, clearing his throat a few times. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said forcing the tears away and sitting tall.
Dean smiled a bit. He definitely had Winchester in him. "Call me Dean," he said.
"And I'm Sam," the younger Winchester said.
Adam let out a breath. "Okay," he said slowly. "Sam and Dean. How strange," he mumbled the last part.
"Let us know if you need anything," Sam said, standing with Dean. Adam rose too, bowed awkwardly, and left without another word.
Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shook his head. Sam sighed. "I know."
o o o
Lucifer's camp was at the base of a hill near several caves, out of the thick of the forest. Castiel left Crowley at the sparse tree line and walked towards the throng of laughing men, each of them carrying heavy metal weapons.
Castiel approached cautiously, clearing his throat as loudly as possible when none of the angels seemed to hear him. That did it, and the crowd slowly parted.
The raven-winged angel was startled to see two men grappling on the ground, the thinner one clearly winning. Castiel waited patiently for the smaller angel to overpower the other one, which he did easily. He dug his knee into the other angel's chest, gripped his wrists above his head, and planted his foot on the other angel's face. His winged were crushed under him at an uncomfortable angle. It looked very painful, but both angels were smiling.
"Ah! Castiel!" The winner grinned up at him. "I've been waiting for you. Want to have a turn?"
Castiel took a deep breath to keep himself from shuddering. This was definitely Lucifer. "No thank you, Commander," he smiled to appear comfortable. "I'm afraid I'd make a poor opponent. You'd defeat me in a matter of seconds."
This seemed to put Lucifer at ease, and he rolled off the other angel. "Some other time, then." He motioned to a large table- the stump of an incredibly wide tree- and Castiel sat on a rocky but comfortable chair across from him. A young female angel immediately jumped on his lap and pecked him on the cheek, draping heavy ruby and citrine carcanets over his neck.
"So… Castiel," Lucifer drew out his name. "I hear you're the humans' pet."
Oh. This was not what he was expecting. Still, he kept himself professional, reminded himself to be unfazed by whatever he said.
"I am actually an emissary, sir," Castiel said. "I've been sent to represent humankind, who would like to communicate with the angels."
Lucifer leaned forward, ignoring the woman stroking his hair. "But you were human once," he breathed, unabashed curiosity on his face. "What was that like?"
"Um, I did not have my Grace," he begun. That was a strange question to ask. Of course he felt different now, but he hadn't ever thought back to the difference between now and before. "As I am an angel, without my Grace I felt incomplete and weak. I was very happy to get it back."
"Do all humans feel that way?" he murmured darkly. "Weak?"
"No," Castiel said carefully. "I cannot say for sure, but I have seen many strong humans, worthy of being an angel's ally." Yes, good, bring it back to the task at hand. "That's what I've come to speak about."
"What was your transformation like?" Lucifer asked, ignoring Castiel's attempt at professionalism entirely.
Castiel shifted in his seat. "It was, ah, painful." That was the best thing he could come up with. Lucifer didn't need to know about the surge of power so great that Castiel thought he'd been blinded by himself, or how every bone and muscle in his back tore itself to shreds only to grow ten times the amount to form wings.
"Shall we get back to business now?"
Lucifer leaned back and turned to the woman. He grasped her chin in his fingers. "Business," he said in a tone that one would use with a child. "Boring, don't you think?"
She nodded and giggled, and Castiel felt uncomfortable.
"However, it is necessary." He turned back to Castiel and shrugged. "Lilith, why don't you go get us some snacks?"
The girl, Lilith, got up and bowed before skipping off. "You were saying?" Lucifer asked.
"Yes, right," Castiel composed himself again. "The kingdom of Winchester wishes to form an alliance with the angels."
"The Garrison," Lucifer corrected.
Castiel refrained from fidgeting. "Yes, the Garrison. They believe that uniting two strong races would be beneficial to everyone. I completely agree, and I have lived both an a human and angel."
Lucifer… pouted? "But humans are so…" he waved his hand towards nothing. "They're stupid and whiny and dependent on everything."
"Well, they have much to offer, and they want to discuss how their people and angel kind can help each other. This is just a preliminary meeting, an olive branch to-"
"I can see how they'd think that," Lucifer mused. "But the kingdom of Winchester. That's a risky deal right there."
Castiel's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Lucifer looked at him as if he'd missed something obvious. "It's cursed. You know that, right?"
For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, Castiel was speechless. What the hell did that mean? "Pardon?"
Lucifer rolled his eyes as Lilith set a plate of fruit in front of the two. He popped a grape into his mouth. "You know," he chewed thoughtfully. "Hundred year old curse, land goes up in flames, blah blah."
"How- what-" Castiel sputtered.
"I'm sure you're going to talk to Michael about this too," Lucifer made a face when he said Michael's name. "And you know what he's going to do? He's not going to say a damn thing about it. The smart thing, that would be to make an alliance, take the humans' resources, and watch them burn." Lucifer ate another grape casually. "I'm pretty excited for that last part."
Castiel was silent for a long moment. It couldn't be true. Lucifer was just fucking with him, getting in his head.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Lucifer chuckled. "It's just a story, but I have it on good authority that the story is true."
Castiel stared at the table, clinging to those words. It's just a story, it's just a story, it's just a story.
"Go back to your humans. Think about it. But don't take too long, the fire waits for no one."
Castiel rose numbly and walked away from the boisterous chatting. He repeated those words, It's just a story, but Chuck's prophecy had been seared into his brain. And that first line…
The blackened blanked 'cross the soil.
And Lucifer's words…
Land goes up in flames, blah blah.
With a few stumbling steps, Castiel took off again, flying faster and harder than he ever had before. Not even a minute later, he crash landed next to the river next to Crowley's people and flung off his carcanets. The setting sun painted the ground with their shadows, and Castiel splashed himself with the cold river water.
"Castiel?" an angel named Tessa ran over to him. "Castiel, what's wrong?"
"I need a drink," He said, rubbing his temples. "I need all of the drinks."
Tessa helped him up and pulled him over to the group. Apparently he looked pretty shaken up, because Crowley looked a bit concerned. He never looked concerned. "Let's go inside. That's where we keep the alcohol."
"Inside?" Castiel muttered. He was being dragged to a tree, followed by the rest of the group. Were they all going to climb the tree?
To his surprise, Crowley pulled him through the tree, bits of light dancing around Castiel's eyes when they passed through. It was like a door to… of course, this was Crowley's place.
It was larger than the tree could be, bigger on the inside. There was stone and brick everywhere, tall arches and vaulted ceilings illuminated by bright torchlight. Crowley was undoubtedly a drama queen. Luckily, there were also many red velvet chairs and couches, which Castiel nearly threw himself on.
"Please tell me you have whiskey," he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.
Crowley scoffed. "Whiskey won't get angels drunk. I have spirits that could bring kings to their knees!"
Bela rolled her eyes, perching next to Castiel. "He's very proud of his collection."
Crowley returned with square-shaped crystal glasses full of a translucent orange liquid. Everyone clinked the glasses together and begun to drink. Castiel took a large gulp and immediately regretted it. This was not whiskey. This burned like fire, sliding down his throat and settling heavily in his gut. After the initial eye-watering pain, Castiel took a breath and felt a nice little rush.
"What is this?" he asked Crowley.
Crowley opened his mouth, and gibberish came out. "Mah-lah-pih-ro-geh Roh-zeh-tah-neh."
Castiel waited for his brain to catch up. He was good at translating Enochian written words, but spoken words were like a whole other language. After a second, he tilted his head. "Fire wine?"
Ava plopped on the couch and laughed. "I guess that's as close of a translation as you're going to get," she smiled. "We just call it Zetaneh. It's Crowley's favorite."
"Now have a sip and loosen that tongue," Crowley sat on a table in front of the couch, and somewhere, music began to play. It was fast paced, but somehow lulling, and suddenly all Castiel wanted to do was dance and skip and laugh.
"Hey, stay with us," Crowley snapped his fingers in Castiel's face. Someone turned the music down. "What happened with Lucifer?"
Castiel gulped and took a tentative sip from the glass. "Is the Winchester land cursed?" he asked, diverting the question a bit.
Everyone visibly relaxed. "It's just a story, Cassie," Bela patted the back of his wing. "Is that what Lucifer told you about?"
Castiel nodded. They said it was just a story, and Castiel wanted to believe it was just a story, but the prophecy… Should he tell them? The only people who ever knew about Dean's prophecy, besides the man himself, were Chuck, Castiel, Sam, and Gabe, and even then, Gabe barely knew anything about it.
"It freaked me out," Castiel mumbled. "What if it's true? He said that Michael wouldn't tell me about it because he wanted to take the humans' resources and watch them burn, but-"
"Castiel, it's a story. A myth. Lucifer isn't a good guy. He might be charming, but he's just trying to scare you."
"You deserve one night without that burden you carry," Inias suddenly appeared behind Castiel. "Dance with us."
Ava and Bela pulled Castiel to his feet. Perhaps he could use a few hours of relaxation. After all, come sunrise, he had to go relay all this information to Dean and the councils. Maybe not all the information, but still.
With one last pleading look from Tessa, Castiel drained the rest of his Zetaneh and allowed himself to be pulled into the crowd. The music grew louder, and though Castiel could hear it, he wouldn't be able to describe it with any words, Enochian or English.
He felt strange, but a good strange. There were bodies around him, and he could simultaneously feel their exteriors, but also their Grace. It formed a web that ebbed and flowed together. He didn't remember taking another glass, but it was suddenly empty in his hand and being replaced. Ava was there, taking his hand, and Bela was there, ruffling his hair. Gadreel swept the back of his wings over Castiel's, a friendly gesture, and the blue-eyed angel laughed.
Days could have passed, or only minutes, but Castiel couldn't tell. He felt ecstatic, like nothing was wrong with the world. Then, something brushed along sensitive undersides of his wings.
Castiel cried out, feelings of WrongBadNotDean surging through him. He pushed everyone out of his way to find a frightened looking Inias. "I'm sorry, Castiel, I didn't mean to."
Castiel pulled his wings flat into his back. "It's… fine," Castiel muttered finally, avoiding eye contact. It was like he'd been doused with cold water. "I'm just going to go to sleep now."
Without a second thought, Castiel stumbled to the door, but a hand on his arm stopped him. "There's a spare room upstairs," Crowley said. "You can lock it, just use your magic." Castiel hesitated, and Crowley sighed. "Look, you won't be able to make it back to Bobby's tonight, so we can head out after you sleep it off. Most of them have their own homes to get back to, so they won't be here in the morning."
After another moment of hesitation, Castiel sighed. "Thank you."
It took more energy that it should have for Castiel to lock the door behind him, but the music was muffled and no one could get it, so that was a win for him. There was a pounding in his head and a sick coiling in his gut, and after a few minutes wrestling with the soft, fluffy comforter, he lay still.
Dean. It had been too long. He needed to see his love. He rested a hand on his shoulder and pretended it was Dean's, bearing his raised mark. With that thought, he drifted off to sleep.
A/N: Reviews are love!