A/N: In this chapter: a terrible discovery is made.
Chapter Six
Castiel was sitting on the floor with a book detailing the Winchester family tree for the last several hundred years when Dean came in.
"Oh, you're here already," Dean blinked and smiled. "Sorry, I was tied up with something. Found anything?"
"Potentially," Castiel said nonchalantly. And because he couldn't help himself, "How's Benny doing?"
Dean was quiet, and Castiel turned a page casually. "Were you spying on us?" Dean said in his his calm-angry voice.
"No," Castiel said truthfully. "Just on my way to the library." He continued to stare at the book, not reading the words anymore. "I didn't stick around to listen, don't worry."
The angel knew that Dean was debating whether or not to drop the subject or keep poking at it. After a second, he sighed and sat on the floor next to Castiel. "What did you potentially find?"
Castiel pushed an old records book across the floor to him. "That's the kingdom economic inventory for the past two hundred years. Exactly one hundred ago is when the numbers took a downturn." He pointed to the red ink. "It's mostly crop and cattle production."
Dean examined the downward trend. "It happened so suddenly," Dean mused. "Nothing to indicate a reason for it to happen."
Castiel looked up at Dean for the first time and saw concern in his eyes. "Maybe it was a different reason."
Dean put down the book and gestured to the one Castiel was holding. "Family tree?"
"Yep," Castiel held it up. "I was looking for the king that was in power exactly one hundred years ago. It was your great-great-grandfather, Thomas Winchester. He was coronated when he was twenty-one, he-"
"That's him," Dean interrupted. "I-I've been having dreams about him."
Castiel's brow furrowed. Dean never told him about that. "Dreams?"
"Dean!" Sam called, banging loudly into the library, Gabe hot on his heels.
"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean said, alarm in his voice. Gabe looked at Castiel with wide eyes.
"There's something you need to see," Sam swallowed thickly. "Both of you."
o o o
Castiel stood in front of the grimy case, nausea nearly overcoming him. The angel wing was a dirty white, sad and wilted in the case. A cloth covered the place where it was supposed to connect to a body. Even if it was cut off rather than ripped, a wing was directly connected to the angel's body. There would be bits of tendons, shoulder blade, back muscle…
Another wave of nausea rolled through Castiel, and he turned away.
Gabe gripped his hand tightly, and Castiel clung to him. "What else is in here?" he tried to make his voice as even as possible.
"Enochian," Sam answered. "Lots of Enochian."
"I found Thomas' journals," Dean grunted, blowing dust off a soft leather book.
Sam's brows furrowed. "Thomas?"
"Our great-great-grandfather," Dean said, flipping open the cover. "From exactly one hundred years ago."
Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean had explained the story of the curse to him, and he in turn explained it to Gabe. They both knew that Castiel had been given a prophecy, but they didn't know exactly what it said.
Dean sat back against the wall. "Give me a minute," he murmured, turning the brittle pages carefully.
Castiel picked up a book entirely in Enochian. It was a strange sort of Enochian… the equivalent of cursive, maybe? "Anatomy and Composition," he read slowly. He flipped through the pages to find detailed drawings of exactly what he thought- angel anatomy. There were close-ups of wings, comparisons to humans, everything.
"Who's Abbadon?" Gabe called from across the room.
Dean's head snapped up. "Let me see that." He snatched up the sketches and stared at them with wide eyes. "It's her."
"Who, exactly?" Sam asked.
Dean looked up, meeting each of their eyes. "I've, uh, been having these weird dreams."
Castiel scooted closer. These were the dreams that freaked Dean out, the ones that woke him up in a panic. He knew they were. "The ones about Thomas," Castiel said.
Dean nodded. "And Abbadon."
"What are they about?" Gabe asked carefully.
Dean sat down wearily. "I've only had two, but… they're vivid. Really vivid. From what I got, Thomas loved everything about angels and wanted to study them. He tried to call one of them, but," he paused, "he got Abbadon instead. She's not an angel, he must have gotten something wrong." He snatched up the journal he was reading earlier. "It's probably in here."
"Was there anything about a curse in your dreams?" Castiel asked carefully.
Dean looked at him and then quickly down to his lap. "Well, Thomas knew she was in love with him, but he didn't want her. And she threatened him. He asked if she was going to kill him, and she said," Dean took a breath. "She said, 'No, I'm going to do something much worse.'"
"Creepy as fuck," Gabe whispered.
Sam piped up. "If she wasn't an angel, then what was she?"
"I don't know, man," Dean shook his head. "But, for a second, she had black eyes."
Without another word, they started rifling through the books and papers again. Castiel picked up a few more books, sorting them into what looked like it would help versus what looked like purely scientific notes. There were a lot of those- lunar cycles, solar cycles, more anatomy, rituals, spells, descriptions about types of magic… Thomas had been obsessed.
"What's this?" Gabe held up a piece of paper with a detailed wheel. It had English, Latin, and Enochian on it, following the circle, with bits of notes about grammar and phonetics.
"It's a cypher," Castiel's eyes widened. It was way better than the one he gave Bobby. "Keep that out. Use it to read the Enochian book titles."
There was another minute of quiet. "Holy shit," Dean whispered, covering his mouth.
"What?" Castiel knelt next to him. "What is is?"
Dean read from the journal. "I thought when Abbadon left, that would be the end of it. I thought her threats were hollow, but my dreams have been haunted by her visage. She talks of trials and a curse, and I fear for my family."
"It's real," Sam breathed.
Dean flipped a few pages and kept reading. "I fear I cannot keep going like this. Our wheat fields have taken a sudden downturn, and the river water is poisoning the towns. Abbadon has surely cursed me. Last night, in my dreams, she told me of the unspeakable. If I was ever going to restore my land, I would have to complete a set of three trials, the first involving…" Dean took a shaky breath. "Fuck. The first involving ripping an innocent soul from its vessel."
The room was silent, and once again, Castiel felt like he was going to be sick.
"Is there any more?" Gabe whispered.
Dean nodded. "I don't know if I can do it. I don't even know how. Abbadon said that I have one hundred years to complete the tasks or she will burn my kingdom to the ground and cleanse it with a flood. How can I face my family? How can I burden little Henry with this? My kingdom is doomed, and it is my fault. If I could only…" Dean stopped. "That's where it ends. If I could only and then nothing."
Sam took the journal and flipped through the rest of the pages. "Blank."
"So," Castiel hugged his knees. "Fire, and then a flood."
Dean nodded. "Your prophecy."
Gabe looked confused. "What prophecy?"
"I was given a prophecy by Chuck right after I turned, you know," Castiel fluffed up his feathers, then pulled them tightly to his back.
"Well, what is it Cassie?" Gabe scooted to Castiel.
Castiel recited the prophecy, monotone.
"The blackened blanket 'cross the soil
Thirsts for golden blood
Thrice must naked creatures toil
Lest come the deathly flood."
Sam rubbed his eyes. "So blackened blanket is the fire, deathly flood is Abbadon's cleansing flood, thrice toiling is the trials."
"It would appear so."
"Thirsts for golden blood?" Dean asked quietly. "Do angels bleed gold?"
Castiel didn't actually know. He's never seen an angel bleed. His own veins were still a light blue color where he could see then on his wrists. But he had to be sure.
He extended a wing out and stiffened the feathers, using the outermost one to cut a fine line in the flesh on his palm below his thumb.
"Cas, no!" Dean reached forward, but Castiel held up a hand.
"It's fine, just a tiny cut," he murmured. "Red blood." A tiny drop of red trickled out, and Castiel wiped it on his pants.
No one said what they were thinking- that maybe golden blood meant royal blood. Winchester blood.
Dean cleared his throat. "So, where do we get an innocent soul?"
Sam's head snapped around to Dean's. "What the fuck?"
"What do you want me to say, Sam?" Dean snapped. "I'm not going to let some ancient bitch destroy our kingdom when we have a surefire way of stopping all this."
"Oh yeah?" Sam stood, angry. "We don't even know what the second or third trials are. We're not going to go kill a civilian if we don't know for sure it'll work!"
"That's not it," Gabe said, staring at the floor. Everyone looked at him, and he gave a half shrug. "No one's innocent, not really. None of us are. We've all done something we're not proud of, or at least thought it." Castiel was quiet. Gabe was more right than he knew.
"I hate to say this," he rubbed his eyes, "but the only people who are truly innocent are… babies."
"So we have to kill a fucking baby?" Dean pulled at his hair.
"Not kill," Castiel said suddenly. "It said you have to r-rip out it's soul," Castiel stuttered.
"Can you really live without a soul?" Sam asked.
"Maybe one of these books has that answer." Castiel became commanding. He had to take the reigns on this research. "Look for something about spells, use the cypher or give it to me. We won't decide if we're doing this right now, but it's best to know, at least."
It was late afternoon when they went into the room, and it was way past sunset when they decided to stop and try again tomorrow. Sam hauled Gabe onto his back as they went into his room, Gabe burying his face into Sam's long hair.
Dean and Castiel didn't pass anyone on the way back to Dean's room. There was a weird sort of tension between them, and Castiel didn't like it. It was all Benny's fault. He just shows up and bam, a wedge is driven between the king and the angel. Benny, with his funny stories and southern accent and… normalcy.
On a deeper level, Castiel knew it was his fault. He was trying to hard not to be jealous and possessive, but… how could be not be? Dean Winchester was his life. He was the only reason that Castiel survived all the shit of the past year, and the only one who truly loved him. He was more important to Castiel than either race, either kingdom, anything.
Benny hadn't yet come on to Dean, not obviously. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he was just being friendly. Castiel still didn't trust him, though. He felt like a threat, competition, even if Dean disagreed. It was a challenge that Castiel would have to overcome by himself. He didn't want to make Dean angry. He didn't want to give Dean another reason why Benny was better than Castiel.
He knew it, but he'd never say it. Benny was way better than Castiel. Better for Dean. But Castiel was selfish, and he'd do anything to keep Dean.
They eventually got to Dean's room and undressed silently, crawling to their respective sides of the bed. Castiel could tell that Dean was still awake, and Dean could probably tell that Castiel was too, but that wall of tension lay between him.
Castiel was bone tired. He hated feeling this way, like every breath was an effort. After another moment, he rolled towards Dean and buried his head in the king's neck. To his relief, Dean held him immediately, stroking his fingers through the raven feathers. Castiel let out a breath and put his arm over Dean's torso.
"I love you," he murmured.
Dean kissed his forehead. "I love you too."
There was still a knot of tension in Castiel's chest, but he felt okay enough to relax into Dean's warmth and fall asleep.
A/N: Reviews are love!