Chapter Five

"I don't understand what you find so fascinating about them," Abbadon inspected her nails as Thomas combed through the forest line with his eyes. "I could answer all of your questions and more."

"You're not an angel, Abbadon," Thomas didn't move his stare from the trees. He didn't know exactly what she was. At least, he didn't have a confirmation. He knew, but he didn't want to know.

Abbadon stepped in front of him, obscuring his sight of the forest. "You're the one who summoned me," she reminded him. Her stare was hard for a moment, but then it softened. "Tom, look at me."

Thomas finally tore his gaze from the tree line. He inspected the… creature. She was looking at him like that again, like he was a blessing to her. She sat in front of him, propping herself up on her hands.

"Your scientific interest is impressive, it really is," she said, "but I love hearing your stories." Thomas smiled. He was an excellent storyteller. "Tell me one of those."

The man sighed. His focus was torn between the species he craved to observe and the woman in front of him, her attention never wavering. He'd never had someone give him that before.

"In a faraway land," he began, "there lived a prophet whose words turned objects to gold…"

Abbadon listened, engrossed in his words. She scooted closer as Thomas spoke, laying a hand over his on the ground. She loved him, or at least wanted to possess him. He knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to order her away. She provided him with so much knowledge, and if he was being honest with himself, he was afraid.

With all his heart, he wanted an angel. He tried to call one, and instead, Abbadon came. He had hopes that she would become bored with him and leave, but as he looked into her sharp, dark eyes, he saw the fire of obsession, and his hopes dwindled.

The scene changed. Dean was suddenly aware of himself; he had a body, and it was standing in his throne room. Everything was slightly different though, different decorations, a different texture on the stone walls.

Thomas and Abbadon were standing on the steps below the throne. "Hello?" Dean called, but they couldn't hear him.

"You love me, Thomas," Abbadon had a fistful of his shirt in her grasp. "I know you do! I know it!"

"I don't, Abbadon," he said nervously.

"You do. I can see into your soul. Tom," her eyes widened a little. "Tell me you love me. Tell me right now, and we can be together. I'll forget this little outburst, and-"

"No!" Thomas had enough. "I do not love you! I never did, and I never will. I never meant to summon you, and we will never be together." He was breathing hard, eyes blazing.

Dean noticed that he had the same eyes and brow that Sam had, but for the color. His eyes were a bright forest green.

Abbadon suddenly lashed out, and Thomas flew backwards into the wall, a thin line of blood trickling from his temple. The woman stepped over him.

"Are you going to kill me?" Thomas asked.

"No," Abbadon smiled, eyes turning a deep, murky black. "I'm going to do something much worse."

Dean stepped forward, but the floor erupted into flames. Thomas and Abbadon didn't seem to notice. Their forms had dissolved in front of Dean's eyes. The castle walls began to blur as the fire came closer.

Dean looked for an exit, but there was nothing around him, just black and the crackle of deadly fire. It licked up one of his legs, and he stumbled back with a pained cry. He fell, and the fire jumped to his arms. It hurt so much more than Dean thought fire could. It felt almost cold, his body turning to liquid pain as the flames crawled up his body.

He was burning alive, and the pain wouldn't stop. His nerves wouldn't give up, and he wasn't passing out. He kept feeling and feeling until the flames licked up his face, and he heard the manic laughter of the black-eyed woman.

Dean jack-knifed out of bed with a barely muffled shout. He struggled against the comforter and shoved it off of him, stumbling to the floor.

"Dean?" Castiel asked sleepily. "What's wrong?"

The Winchester ran his hands over his skin, needing to check for himself that his flesh was intact and the pain was in his head.

"Dream," he croaked. "Bad dream."

With a thump, Castiel staggered out of bed and plopped next to Dean on the floor. "'S okay," he mumbled, pulling the king close and wrapping a soft wing around them. "'S over, I got you."

Dean let his forehead rest against his angel's collarbone and forced his heart rate down. That dream was more vivid than the last one. Thomas, why were his dreams connected to Thomas? The name sounded familiar, but it was also a pretty common name. They had been in Dean's throne room, and… Thomas had been watching angels.

He needed to go look through his family records.

Castiel helped him up, concern breaking through his bone-tiredness. He wanted to ask Dean what the dream had been about, but the look in his eye said that he should give him some time before revisiting those memories.

"Come back to bed," Castiel murmured. "The sun's not up yet."

Dean scrubbed his hands down his face and stepped away from Castiel. "I need to shower," he mumbled. "Go back to sleep."

With a frown, Castiel watched Dean's naked form retreat into his bathroom and close the door. A weird sense of loneliness went through him, and he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth.

Something was wrong with Dean. He would expect the king to confide in him, to wrap Castiel in his arms and let him share the burden, but now there was a closed door between them.

Castiel crawled back into the bed and folded his wings around himself. Maybe Dean would talk to him soon. Hopefully.

o o o

The morning went poorly.

Castiel wasn't hungry for breakfast, no matter what Charlie tried to shove down his throat. "Castiel, you're speaking with the Grand Council today. For the love of god, have a cinnamon roll!"

He mumbled a "No thank you," downed the rest of his coffee, and swept out of the kitchens, a pit of nerves settled low in his stomach.

He couldn't find Gabe, and he couldn't find Dean. He couldn't even find Sam. Castiel recognized a few of the servants running around, but he didn't know them well enough to go talk to them.

Instead of looking harder, Castiel flew up to the highest point of the castle and sat there, letting the cool breeze ruffle his feathers. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to go back to the forest, maybe see Ava and Bela. He'd even settle for Gadreel or Inias. Or Crowley.

That was a depressing thought. Maybe he'd go to Bobby's for a little bit. He could translate some more for the old man, share stories and read his old lore books. It was strange how Castiel related to an old hermit better than anyone else.

But he couldn't do that. He wouldn't cut his time with Dean short. He wouldn't allow Benny more time unsupervised to woo Dean, or whatever the fuck he was planning.

After putting it off as long as he could, Castiel went back into the castle towards the biggest conference room. The Grand Council was going to hear about the angels soon, and Castiel breathed deeply to stave off his nerves.

He'd thought a bit about just how much he was going to tell the council. He obviously wouldn't tell them about the curse, nor would he tell them that Lucifer was positively excited about watching the land burn.

"Hey, Cas," a familiar voice said behind him. Castiel turned to find Dean, smiling. He put his hand on the angel's waist and gave him a chaste kiss. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Castiel leaned into his touch.

"It'll be good," Dean squeezed his hand.

Castiel was quiet as the council members filed in and took their seats, Dean at the head of the table and Castiel across the huge span of wood.

Here goes nothing.

"Council members," Castiel addressed them. "I've gone to speak with the Commanders of the angels, and they, for the most part, seem open to the idea of an alliance."

Everyone was silent. "I believe we should focus on the angel Michael," Castiel continued. "We should include Lucifer so as to not cause animosity, but Michael is the one that seems more accepting of humans as allies."

"Will either one of them become violent?" one councilman asked.

Probably. "If we show them no violence, then I have no reason to believe that they will show us any." Yeah, diplomatic. Good. "Michael wishes to see what exactly we want in an alliance. A proposed treaty, with written laws allying our kingdoms. One of his… councilmen is doing the same."

Everyone was silent for a moment, staring at Castiel. "I suggest we come up with some," Dean said, coming to the rescue. "Let's first review our contracts with the House of Roads and the Southern Kingdom."

Castiel sat down as the rest of the council members began to propose laws. Castiel often had to intervene. He was quickly realizing how little the council member knew about anything that wasn't their own form of government.

They stated a borderline of the Kingdom of Winchester, going as far as the forest tree line. They came up with migration laws, describing the lenient measures in which angels could move to their kingdom and obtain citizenship, though Castiel told them that probably wouldn't ever happen.

They proposed a military alliance, in which in the event of an attack against the Garrison, the Kingdom of Winchester would assist them, and vice versa. Neither kingdom would attack the land, resources, or people of the other.

It continued along those lines and occasionally went off on tangents. Castiel explained what angels would act like when introducing themselves, the bow and whatnot. He explained carcanets, wing etiquette, and the typical dress.

The meeting lasted six hours, and Castiel had used his brain more in that time than he had his whole life. At the end, he was sort of proud of the contract. It was clear, but up for evaluation by the commanders. It allied the kingdoms without linking them too much. It was good, and Castiel was exhausted.

Dean commanded that the contract be written out cleanly and copied three times. Two would be packaged, and sealed with the official Winchester seal for delivery to the commanders.

Castiel stumbled out of the conference room, eyes drooping and stomach rumbling. Dean filed out with everyone else, and took in his appearance. "You look like you could use a sandwich and a nap."

Castiel gave him a tired smile. "That sounds wonderful."

"I'll get Charlie to send something to my room," Dean carded his fingers through Castiel's hair. "You can nap there."

"Want to join me?" Castiel asked, brushing a wing over Dean's arm.

Dean smiled, but shook his head. "I'm going to go look through all my dad's old stuff to see if I can find anything about…" he looked around. "You know."

The curse. Right. Castiel nodded. "You can come down and look with me when you wake up," Dean paused, eyes sweeping down Castiel's drooping form. He tilted his chin up. "That is, unless you need me to come back with you."

Yes, I need you. "No, I'm okay." He gave Dean his best smile. "You go look for stuff, I'll be down later."

"The library," Dean nodded.

"Got it." Castiel smiled, and Dean kissed him. It was quick, but soft. "See you soon."

Castiel smiled as Dean walked off, then slumped against the wall. He was just feeling needy because he was tired. It's not like Dean was going to ask Benny to help; they'd agreed that they wouldn't tell anyone, save Sam and Gabe, about this curse business.

He took Dean's advice and went straight to his room, wolfing down the large sandwich and settling comfortably in Dean's sheets, which smelled like him. His wings stretched out across the room and relaxed.

He imagined getting his own little treehouse like Crowley's and taking Dean there. He imagined him arguing with Bela and talking to Ava about music. Castiel would keep the Zetaneh away from Dean and dance with him and show him the other side of himself. It sounded so nice. Castiel didn't know if it would ever happen, but he fell asleep to the image of Dean's bare torso next to his in a tree, kissing like the children's rhyme.

o o o

When he woke, Castiel was a little disoriented. He was in Dean's bed, but where was Dean? He blinked several times before he remembered the council meeting and how tired he'd been. Though a bit groggy, he wasn't tired anymore. He'd go join Dean in the castle library.

The angel straightened himself up and patted his wild hair down as best as he could before heading towards the east wing. He'd visited it countless times when he was still human, reading this and that. He'd never climbed up the rolling ladder, though. If he was going to be caught, he wasn't going to fall on his ass at the same time.

Castiel was crossing a landing open to the floor below when he heard it- the unmistakable sound of Dean's laughter. His brow furrowed. Dean was supposed to be in the library.

Quietly, Castiel crept along the open walkway until he saw Dean and Benny sitting on the wide ledge next to a huge window.

"Seriously?" Dean said, grinning.

"Swear to god," Benny put a hand over his heart. "Thought I was gonna die, but I managed to miss the rocks. Turns out mermaids don't exist. It was just a seal." Dean laughed again, the sound making something clench painfully in Castiel's heart.

A part of Castiel wanted to unfurl his wings and drop down to make his presence known, but he stopped himself. He trusted Dean, he told him he did. He needed to let Dean talk to whoever he chose to. He couldn't control the king, and he didn't want to. However much it bothered him, he needed to give Dean the space he needed.

With a quiet sigh, Castiel headed to the library to get a head start on the research.

o o o

It had been Sam's idea to search their father's storage room full of old crap, and of course, Gabe accompanied him. The search parameters were pretty easy to understand: find anything that looked old and important. The problem was, everything in the storage room looked old and important.

"I went through all this stuff after Dad died," Sam muttered, pushing aside another trunk of baby clothes. "If there were anything about a curse in here, I'd have found it already."

Gabe was leaning against the closed door, watching his boyfriend with a little smile on his face. "Did you check that box over there?"

Sam gave him a mild bitchface. "Only eight times."

Gabe shrugged. "Maybe ninth time's the charm."

Sam huffed and bent to rifle through the old boxes of silver, giving Gabe a perfect view of Sam's ass. The shorter man looked him up and down. Even after almost three and a half years, Sam still turned him on quicker than a match in a coal mine.

"Nothing," Sam rose and squinted at the other boxes.

"And in that one?" Gabe motioned to an armoire full of old scrolls. "Isn't that all latin? Maybe some of that can be decoded."

"I read latin, Gabe." Even so, Sam squatted to glance at the lower shelves, exposing a strip of his golden skin. Gabe popped a button at the collar of his shirt, feeling warm. "I've already read all of these." Sam's brow furrowed as his eyes swept the room again. "Maybe-"

"Check in that trunk," Gabe commanded, creeping up behind the prince.

Sam acquiesced, though he knew that the trunk was full of old family paintings. He knelt and rifled through the canvases, stopping only when Gabe's shadow obscured his view.

The Winchester grinned up at his boyfriend, head pretty much level with his crotch.

"Sex break?" Gabe asked with a child-like smile on his face.

On one hand, Sam really wanted to find information about the curse that was supposedly going to destroy his land in maybe weeks. On the other hand, he rarely denied Gabe anything.

"Never satisfied, are you?" he teased, pulling Gabe's hips towards his face. He let out a manic laugh when Sam nipped at his hipbone through his not-thick-enough-for-winter pants and pushed at his head.

"Stop! You know I'm ticklish!"

With a lovely display of strength, Sam grabbed Gabe's ass and lifted him like he was a feather as he stood. Gabe loved being carried. He twined his fingers through Sam's brown locks and crashed their lips together.

Gabe's legs tightened around Sam's torso. "Love it when you're tall," he mumbled against the Winchester's lips.

"I'm always tall."

"Exactly." Sam grinned widely at Gabe and pushed him back against the wall. With Sam's height, Gabe was tall enough to touch the lanterns lining the tall room. He wasn't really paying attention to that though- there were other pressing matters, the one pressed firmly to his groin.

Gabe's hands flew out to brace himself on the wall and he knocked his hand into one of the lanterns. "Shit," he cursed.

It should've crashed to the floor, but instead, the metal casing depressed into the wall.

"Shit!" he cried as the wall disappeared behind him.

"Oh my god," Sam lunged forward and caught him before he could crash into the very dusty, very new expanse of floor behind him. Gabe clutched onto Sam's neck and they both stared into the secret room they'd just stumbled upon.

Gabe swallowed thickly. "Have you looked in here yet?"

Sam shook his head with wide eyes. He set the shorter man down and snatched a lit lantern off the wall, sweeping it out to illuminate the new space.

With a surprised laugh, Sam stepped forward. It was small, but covered floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves and cases too caked with dust to see into. "It's like we've died and gone to your heaven," Gabe murmured.

Sam approached one of the cases and rubbed the god knows how many years old grime off the glass. "Holy fuck," he breathed.

Gabe ran over. Sam rarely cursed, but as he looked into the case, Gabe understood why he did.

In it was a large, snowy white angel wing.

A/N: Oooh! Leave a review!