A/N: I'm sure you're all wondering about the contents of the box. But first we have to catch up with Sam. Back on Terra, it's church bells for him and his bride-to-be...

The Pompatus Box (Chapter 27: Time for a Wedding) by frostygossamer

The organist is playing through the same hymn for the fourth time since Sam started counting. He and his bride-to-be Lady Amelia kneel on scarlet and gold velvet hassocks, facing the altar. They wait here in full view of a standing crowd of hundreds who have crushed into the ancient space of the chapel of Campobello Abbey.

Sam nervously tugs at his tight collar and fidgets with his scarf. Meanwhile the marriage celebrant takes his own sweet time with his nonsensical preparations.

Campobello's top wedding arranger has decorated the chapel in the latest fashion. Amelia's side of the nave looks like a rose garden, everyone decked out in lucky pink to match the bride's bouquet. Some have actually dyed their hair, even some of the men.

By contrast, the Grand-Ducal half of the nave is filled with noble, military, political and other influential people, all in their official attire. Only Sam's titled relatives have made any effort to dress like this is a joyous event. Sam and Amelia are both dressed in virginal white. Amelia wears a long veil and a simple silk gown in no way reminiscent of the tragic Jessica's ill-fated bouffant creation. Sam is in a shemagh, military tunic and plain kilt.

Sam doesn't doubt that Amelia qualifies to wear white. He's known her a long time and she's a lady of very proper values. Sam on the other hand doesn't know the half of what his body may have been put through before Dean found him. Still, his heart is pure. That ought to count for something.

He's wearing the crisp white dress uniform of a lieutenant general in the Campobellan army, a commission conferred on him by his grandfather in his capacity as Supreme Commander. Sam's chestful of medals and stars jingle and catch the light, not one of them awarded for actual combat. But, with his claymore on display, he looks the very model of traditional masculinity.

Sam chances a peek over his shoulder and the Grand Duke gives him a knowing wink of support. He turns to Amelia and she gives him a perfect sweet and disarming smile, visible through the white chiffon of her wedding veil.

She squeezes his hand and whispers, "It's going to be fine, Sam."

Amelia has been a good sport about everything. She was always Sam's grandfather's preferred candidate to wed his grandson, ever since they were both children. Nevertheless, when Sam decided he would rather marry his new love Jessica, despite having only known her a couple years, Amelia stood down meekly.

She knows Sam, Campobello's most eligible bachelor, always dreamed of finding a fairytale prince's true love's match. She understood when he found his soulmate in Jessica and was jealous only of his happiness. Then when Jessica met her untimely end, she tried hard to console him but failed, unable to convince him he would ever find another. She wasn't as surprised as many were when she heard he had run away.

When Sam suddenly returned from off-planet and the Grand Duke's plans were back on track, she stepped up to the plate and never once complained about the on-off nature of their courtship. Once again Amelia stands by Sam, always a good friend, and in less than an hour she will be more. She will be his wife and perhaps one day Grand Duchess of Campobello. If they ever get through the wedding.

Sam breathes deeply and grinds his teeth. For no reason, goosebumps run down his spine. He shudders, praying that the interminable ceremony will be over soon so he and his new bride can finally get out of the spotlight. Then a waiting car will whisk them away, first back to the palace and then off on a sequestered honeymoon.

That can't come a moment too soon.

=O=

Dean touches down in an event-allocated field almost a mile from the abbey. Scanning the area he realises he hasn't a hope in hell of getting there before the ceremony is over. Every road in toward the abbey precinct is choked with seething multitudes of flag-waving public and Civil Security. He considers his hovertank. Would the police allow a lightly armed air-traction vehicle within the protective cordon? He can but try.

Twenty minutes later the hovertank settles onto the lead roof of the transept. Dean's little trick of disguising it with bunches of gaudy balloons seems to have successfully misled Security into accepting it as a festive float. For a while at least.

Jumping out, Dean scouts around for a maintenance door and finds one which leads him down into the space between the roof and suspended ceiling of the west end of the nave. From here he can see the rows of guests and, in the distance, the backs of Sam and Amelia kneeling before the altar.

Dean takes a moment to reconsider. What is he doing here planning to kidnap the bridegroom right from under the nose of his family and guests? Isn't he already too late? Maybe he should leave and let the nuptials continue uninterrupted. That would be the proper thing to do.

Then he sees Sam turn his head and give his grandfather that desperate look. Come on. Dean KNOWS that this is NOT what Sam wanted. The guy told him enough times. Not the manacled life of a prince. Not the loveless arranged marriage. Not a bleak future of ceremonial duty after duty. Not HIS Sam.

He isn't here to kidnap Sam. He's here to RESCUE his ass.

"SAM!"

His yell is swallowed up by the murmur of the crowd below.

All the same, he could swear that Sam flinched when he called out to him. Encouraged, he finds an access ladder that descends to ground level within the stout walls and follows a passageway carrying pipes to the east end of the building. An access panel opens out into the priest's preparation room, the sacristy.

From here Dean can hear the mumbled chanting of the priest as he goes through the process of blessing the paraphernalia of marriage, rings, sashes, crowns. He opens the door to the apse a crack and can see Amelia looking beautiful in her pearlescent white bridal gown and silken veil. Beyond her kneels Sam, slightly slumped against her as if he is about to pass out.

Dean hisses, "Sam!"

Amelia hears him and lifts her veil slightly, sending a puzzled look to the vestry door. Dean points at Sam and she takes the hint, prodding her bridegroom with her elbow. Sam shakes himself a little and follows her gaze.

"Dean?! Damn it! What in hell are you doing here?" he hisses back.

Dean has to wonder himself.

"Dude!" he snaps. "You wanna come then come. Otherwise..."

Sam slowly shakes his head and responds in a hoarse whisper.

"In case you haven't noticed, jerk, we're getting freakin' MARRIED here."

But Amelia is watching him and she sees something in his eyes that doesn't reflect what he's saying aloud. It's a certain hopeless longing for a chance he thinks has passed him by. He thinks it's too late to follow his heart, and she doesn't want the man she marries to feel that way.

"Go!"

Sam looks at her, baffled for a second.

"Go, Sam. Or you'll always regret it."

Amelia really does understand her oldest friend more than he will ever know. When he told her the censored version of his story and she read between the lines. She meets Sam's eyes and he smiles then kisses her fondly on the cheek.

Uncertainly at first, he rises, legs feeling a little wobbly after kneeling for so long, and stumbles toward the sacristy door. He slips out before anyone has really noticed him move. Amelia waves away a concerned female Security operative.

"Water," she hisses.

The operative nods and returns to her place.

TBC

A/N: Shades of 'The Graduate' I know. But who could resist? Still more to come. Finally the Pompatus will be revealed!