A/N: Hey everyone, sorry it's been a while, but you know… life. Please review so I know what's working well in the story!

This chapter gets a little dark, just so you know.

Chapter Eight

Castiel woke to a snoring Dean, sprawled awkwardly on the floor next to him. He hadn't heard Dean come to bed, or nest, last night, but it felt good to see him there in the morning.

He rolled carefully out of the spread of blankets and got to his feet, careful not to wake Dean. It would probably be best if he went to see Inias alone. He didn't need to bat his eyelashes anymore- he just needed the bark.

No one else was awake but Bobby. He sat at his breakfast table with a book and an enormous cup of coffee. "Mornin'," he mumbled, glancing up at the angel. "Y'all starting the trials today?"

"Hopefully," Castiel smiled weakly. "First I have to see if we were able to get the 'act of god'."

"Well," Bobby handed him a mug full of steaming coffee. "Good luck."

The angel downed the scalding liquid in one go, cringing at the bitterness. "When Dean wakes up, will you let him know that I'll be back soon?"

"Sure thing." Bobby waved his hand at the door. "Now off with you. The sooner you start the trials, the better."

Castiel couldn't argue with that. He stepped outside, rolling his shoulder muscles and unfurling his wings. He wasn't used to sleeping on the ground and he was a little sore, but he'd still fly.

He did so leisurely, landing near the little clearing in a about a minute. There was no one there, and he realized that he didn't know where Inias lived. Castiel rubbed his eyes, chastising himself for not planning ahead.

He decided to wander in the direction of Michael's camp, making sure he never got near enough to alert the guards. He'd been kicking stones for almost twenty minutes before he saw Inias trudging back towards the clearing, looking rumpled and tired. It looked like a walk of shame.

"Inias!" Castiel called.

The angel looked up and spotted Castiel, smiling wearily. "Hello Castiel," he murmured.

Castiel brushed the tip of his wing in greeting. "I don't mean any offense, but you look awful."

Inias chuckled. "I went to see my ex in Michael's camp. He was very… enthusiastic about seeing me." Castiel pressed his lips together. He felt horrible. It was his fault for whatever Inias had to endure.

"It was okay, though," Inias brightened. "As I was leaving, I managed to snag this." From the pocket of his brown pants, he produced a bit of charred wood, no bigger than his thumb. "It's not much-"

"It's more than enough," Castiel assured him. "You have no idea how grateful I am."

Inias handed Castiel the wood and stepped back with a smile. "We're even then?"

Castiel returned the smile. "I might even owe you one now."

A slightly awkward silence descended over the two. Inias kept looking between Castiel and the ground, as if contemplating whether or not he should ask something.

"So, you and the human king," he said finally. "How does that work?"

Castiel toed a patch of grass. Was he asking how it worked politically? Or did he want to know how their love worked? Castiel didn't know how to explain love. "I guess it just does?" he said weakly. "We see each other frequently and we're happy." Well, as happy as current circumstances allow.

Inias nodded, and after one last 'thank you', Castiel headed back to Bobby's.

o o o

Even in the makeshift nest on the floor, Dean looked peaceful as he slept. The lines on his face were greatly lessened, and his plush lips were parted and relaxed. Castiel couldn't help but smile.

He debated snuggling back down in the blankets, but they had the lightening-struck wood. They had a trial to do.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, smoothing the king's growing hair over his head. "Wake up, Dean."

He stirred and blinked slowly, eyes unfocused. "Cas?" his voice was gruff with sleep. He looked around at the surrounding pillows ad blankets. "Why am I on the floor?"

"You decided to sleep with me," Castiel straightened up, offering a hand. "Come on. We have a big day."

Dean looked at him with confusion for a moment, then realization passed over him. He took Castiel's hand, resignation settling in. "Yeah," he mumbled.

They soon sat in Bobby's kitchen with Sam and Gabe, eating breakfast and downing coffee like it was lifeblood.

"So," Sam said around a mouthful of eggs, "do we get to go with you to get the act of God today?"

"I actually went over this morning to get it," he said, looking down at his plate.

The clacking of Dean's silverware on the plate stopped. "Did you have a nice date, then?" His voice was quiet, barely discernible from the other side of the table, but laced with a surprising amount of bitterness.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Castiel stared at him, but Dean refused to meet his eyes.

Dean sighed. "Nothin', I'm just tired." The clacking resumed, but he just pushed bits of egg around his plate.

Castiel forced down another bite of toast, though his appetite had gone. Dean was insinuating something about Castiel and Inias, though he knew there was nothing going on. Castiel loved Dean. He should know that. Was he beginning to distrust Castiel?

The angel pushed away from the table and carried his plate to the sink. There wasn't enough time to think about these kinds of things. They had trials to complete. There was no date on the journal entries, so they had no idea when the fire was supposed to come- could be tomorrow, could be two weeks. Either way, they needed to move quickly.

The small group cleaned up and headed out in silence, two horses waiting for them outside. Castiel's wings twitched. Human transportation was so slow, but he couldn't carry Sam and Gabe along with Dean.

"So," Gabe said dejectedly. "Where do we find a baby? And it's mother?"

Sam's eyes lit up. "We could find an infirmary. See if there are any dying ones. Then at least we won't be taking a long life away."

There were murmurs of accession. "Nearest village, then," Dean murmured, swinging himself up onto his horse. The others followed.

For a while, the horses walked in a tense silence. Gabe sat in front of Sam, leaning comfortably back on the younger Winchester. Sam held the reigns loosely around him, trusting his horse Chevy to follow Dean's Impala.

Gabe sat up suddenly and took the reigns from Sam, pulling back just a bit. Chevy slowed, falling behind Impala by at least twenty feet.

"What's wrong?" Sam murmured, unhappy that he couldn't see Gabe's face.

"Nothing's wrong with me, but there's something wrong with them," Gabe muttered, nodding at Dean and Castiel in front of them. "It felt really weird between them, didn't it?"

Sam sighed and pressed a kiss to the back of Gabe's head. "Dean is worried," he said eventually. "He knows that Castiel doesn't like Benny, and he feels like he's pulling away."

Gabe was quiet for a second. "I think Castiel thinks that Dean wants him to," he said. "I know how he gets when he's uncomfortable- he wants to hold on tighter, and I bet he thinks Dean would find him clingy. He's never had anything like this happen to him before."

Sam shook his head. "Why can't they just talk to each other?"

"Is it ever that simple?" Gabe asked. There was a long moment of silence. "If things get really bad, though…"

"We'll tie them to chairs and refuse to give them food until they sort out everything?" Sam offered helpfully.

Gabe grinned. "You're so smart."

o o o

They came upon a village in a little under two hours. All four men had the presence of mind to wear plain clothes and a cloak. The king, the prince, and an angel strolling about casually would probably arouse suspicion.

People were milling about as per usual, but a blanket of tension covered the town. Everyone walked with their heads down, eyes shifting from person to person before hurrying away. They kept away from the large men on large horses shrouded in dark cloaks. The villagers probably thought they were rebels.

Sam and Dean kept their hoods down. Not many had ever seen the king or prince in person, but many knew what they looked like. Castiel kept his eyes up; as far as the public was concerned, he was no one.

"Pardon me," Gabe said from atop Sam's horse. A man carrying a large bag of papers eyed him warily. "Could you point us to the nearest infirmary?"

The man let out a breath, as if he feared a worse question. "Straight down this main road about a quarter mile. It's the big blue building on the left."

"Thank you," Gabe called, the man scurrying off quickly.

They set off again, the midday sun doing nothing to stop the chilly breeze. Dean was tense in front of Castiel, who rubbed soothing circles on his side. Each step closer to the infirmary was like pulling a knot tighter and tighter; they didn't know how many it would take to break.

All too soon, they came upon the building, cracking navy paint not succeeding in covering its obvious age. A woman with dark hair walked around inside, shuffling through some things in the front desk.

The four men tied up the horses and stepped quietly inside. The woman looked up and immediately retreated, back to the wall. Three large men and one average one in dark cloaks was an intimidating picture. There was fear in her eyes.

Castiel stepped forward and lowered his hood. "There's no need to be afraid," he said softly. "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"W-Why?" she asked, expression still distrusting.

Castiel shrugged. "We need answers. What's your name?"

She looked like she wasn't going to say anything, but then she sighed. "Lisa," she murmured. "What do you want?"

"My name is Castiel," the angel said, smiling. "This is going to sound strange, but are there any infants in your care that have…" How did he put it kindly? "Terminal illnesses?"

She looked down for a moment and nodded. "My son, Ben. He's not doing well."

Something clenched in Castiel's chest. They were about to ask this woman for her own son's soul. On the other hand, they knew where they'd get mother's blood.

"I'm very sorry, but we need him," Castiel began. The woman immediately looked wary again.

"Why?"

"It's complicated-"

He was cut off by Gabe's hand on his arm. "Let me," he said quietly.

Gabe had a way with words. If there was anyone else Castiel trusted with something like this, it was him. He backed off, moving to stand behind Dean.

"Do you believe in prophecies?" Gabe began. Lisa glanced at the three men in the background and, to their surprise, nodded. "We got one recently, and it told us that this kingdom was doomed to burn and kill every last villager in it. We think we've found a way to save it, and your son is the key."

"Why should I believe you?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

Gabe stood calmly and gestures back towards the group. "That man is the king," he said. Dean took that as a cue to remove his hood, and when he did, the woman gaped. "That one is the prince." Sam folded down his hood. "And the man you just spoke to isn't a man. He's an angel."

Castiel guessed that he needed to prove it like Sam and Dean had. He pushed the cloak back and let his wings unfold a bit behind him, tips grazing the floor. The woman was staring at them, eyes wide and hand covering her mouth. "So you can understand that we're very serious."

"It's real," she breathed.

Castiel nodded. Everyone knew that there was something going on with angels and magic and change in the kingdom, but there were still some skeptics.

"Castiel received the prophecy a few weeks ago, and we have proof that supports the fact that…" Gabe trailed off until Lisa looked at him again. "If we don't do something to stop it, we're all going to die."

"Okay," Lisa said shakily. "What do you need my son for?"

Gabe and Castiel exchanged a look. "Your son is very young. His soul is completely pure, innocent. He is the essential ingredient for a spell that will end this." Gabe conveniently left out the fact that even if this worked, there were still two more trials left. And that they didn't actually know if it would work for sure.

Gabe continued. "If you let us take him, then both you and he will have saved this kingdom." Lisa started crying, and Castiel's heart broke a little.

"Can we see him?" the angel asked quietly.

Lisa wiped away a few tears and turned, walking towards the back without another word. The four followed her, Castiel bringing up the rear. He suddenly didn't want to see this child. In ideal case, this was the infant they would take a soul from. Ideal, god.

"Poor thing," he heard Sam murmur. The little boy couldn't be more than three months old, pale and thin inside threadbare blue blankets. He was in a room away from the other sick people, one with little paintings and toys that Castiel suspected were Lisa's.

"He's in pain. There's only a week left, at most." Lisa said, obviously holding back her tears. She pushed the thin patches of hair out of the infant's face. He was breathing shallowly and unevenly. It was agonizing just watching him.

She glanced at Gabriel. "Will the spell hurt him more?"

"Not at all," Gabriel put a hand on her back. In truth, they didn't know. There was so much they didn't know. They were trusting the hundred-year-old words of a man who was so obsessed about learning more, that he summoned something strong enough to curse an entire kingdom. They were trusting a roughly translated spell that might work. There was so much wrong with this picture.

Desperate times, Castiel guessed.

"We can put him to rest," Gabe continued. "He won't suffer any more."

Lisa stood there for a moment, stroking a finger over the baby's sunken cheeks and closed eyes and clammy forehead. "Okay," she exhaled heavily. "Okay, You can…" she couldn't say it.

"Thank you, ma'am," Dean said, speaking for the first time. Her eyes snapped up to his and she nodded, folding her arms close to her chest. "I appreciate this, but there's one more thing we need for the spell."

Castiel turned and wandered back to the front of the hospital. He passed doorways of rooms full of the sick and injured. He wished he was strong enough to heal them. So far all he'd managed to do was mend shallow cuts and get rid of half of a hangover. Pretty pathetic.

After some time, the small group came back to the lobby, the bundle of blankets tucked securely into Gabe's arms. Castiel saw Dean and Lisa move to the front desk, and Lisa handed him a small knife. Her face was pale and resigned, but she didn't cry anymore.

Dean spoke to her quietly as the knife cut her skin. Her brow furrowed in pain, but still she didn't cry as the red liquid dripped into a little vial. Castiel had never been attracted to women, but he understood then why most men were. Lisa was beautiful and brave to do all of this. She was somehow wary and trusting at the same time, and understood the needs of the greater good while she made sure that her actions wouldn't hurt anyone. She was a mother.

When Dean was done, he reached for some bandages, but Castiel stepped up. He could at least heal a cut. "Let me," he put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

Lisa looked up at him as he touched the reddened skin around the cut. He concentrated, letting the sensation of healing drown out the scenery around him. Slowly, her skin knitted together and the irritation vanished, leaving little more than a smear of blood and a bad memory.

The woman looked at him in awe. Castiel wanted to say something comforting, like It's going to be okay, or I promise you, we'll fix this, but he didn't want to lie. "I'm sorry," he settled for, wiping the blood off her arm and turning away quickly.

He left the Infirmary without another word, and close behind came Sam and Gabe. A few minutes after, Dean emerged, his face grim. "Let's go," he mumbled.

They rode in silence, not a noise from the baby in Gabe's arms. Chevy followed Impala out of the village a few miles until they stopped seeing people. Sam suggested they stopped at to a tiny cliff next to the river. They did.

Everyone was silent as Dean unpacked some magic supplies from Impala's side bag. He set up a little bowl and arranged Lisa's blood, the charred wood, and a knife next to it. They had bookmarked the spell beforehand.

Dean shed his cloak even though it was quite cold and knelt in front of the bowl, quickly pouring in Lisa's blood and scooping a handful of dirt from the ground. Without so much as a grimace, he drew the knife over his own arm and made a fist, squeezing out his own blood over the thick concoction. The wood was placed on top and Dean lit a match. The wood caught quickly, and to Castiel's surprise, the dirt and blood did too. The mixture flared up, then settled into a murky red liquid.

Dean and Castiel both looked over at Gabe, who held the baby. Ben. Gabe stared back, hard, but stepped forward, placing the child in Dean's arms.

An immediate change came over Dean. His eyes had been cold and resigned, but now they filled with a sadness that broke Castiel's heart all over again. He held Ben in his arms for a long time, just looking at him.

"Dean," Sam said softly.

"I know," Dean muttered. He glanced at the child one last time. "I always wanted kids."

With that, Ben was set on the ground, still wrapped in the threadbare blanket. His breathing was shallow, so much so that Castiel could tell he didn't have more than a day left, even without the spell.

Dean dipped a finger in the blood concoction and drew a sigil from the book onto Ben's forehead. His hands were shaking as he picked up the book. Castiel acted on instinct, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder over the Mark and trying to push his own strength into him.

It must have worked, because Dean took a big breath and began to chant.

It was a short spell, and the sigil glowed a bright blue before completely vanishing on the baby's forehead. A little ball of light floated slowly out of Ben's mouth. It reminded Castiel of his grace, but it was white instead of blue and less smoke-like, more of a ball of light.

It rose in the air, but Castiel looked back towards Ben. He saw the moment the child passed, chest still and eyes murky. No one else saw it, and Castiel felt a tear slip down his cheek.

He refocused on what was happening with the light—the soul. It drifted lazily through the air towards the river. No one moved as it finally sank into the cold water. When it was fully submerged, it seemed to radiate outwards, making the water glow from bank to bank. The light cut off suddenly, and the soul vanished.

With a sharp sensation, Castiel was immediately forced into unconsciousness.