Chapter 8 – Revelations
Michael didn't bother getting off his horse as he looked down at the dent that was left in the ground among the boulders.
"Someone has beaten a giant." He exchanged a look with Metatron. "There will be great suffering in Hell if he dies." With a flick of the wrist, they were off once more.
At the same time, the man in the trench coat and Dean were slowing down from their run. Up ahead there were some rocks, so the man nudged the hunter towards them. "Catch your breath." It wasn't clear whether it was an order or a suggestion.
Either way, Dean gratefully sunk down onto the nearest rock. He wasn't grateful for his so-called rescuer, but it had been a crappy day and he felt that he deserved to rest for a bit. He studied his latest kidnapper. There was something slightly familiar about him, but he pushed that aside to fuel his current annoyance.
Dean hated that he just kept being pushed around like some sort of helpless damsel in distress. He totally could have gotten away from those three.
Eventually.
Which brought him back to here. "If you release me, whatever you ask for ransom, you'll get it. I promise you."
The man had been watching behind them, hardly seeming to be even breathing hard despite his efforts to catch Dean and get away, but at the hunter's words, he turned to him. He frowned at him. "And what is that worth, a promise from one such as you?" He gave a huff of air that the hunter thought could be a laugh. "You're jokes aren't very funny, your Highness."
Dean's face scrunched up in confusion for a moment, because the guy was almost acting like some sort of jilted lover. He couldn't remember meeting him before though. He moved on. "I was giving you a chance." The hunter leaned back a bit and crossed his arms. "It doesn't matter where you take me. Michael may not be me, but he's still a decent hunter. He will find you."
The man tilted his head at him a bit. Again, it felt familiar. "Are you that anxious to return to the arms of your dearest love?" He asked somewhat bitterly.
"Anna's not my dearest love." Dean rolled his eyes. "But I know that Michael will find me."
A quick flash of confusion passed over the man's face; before the hunter could analyze it, he was talking again. "You freely admit that you do not love your fiancé."
"She knows I do not love her." Dean felt defensive for some reason.
"Perhaps you aren't capable of it." The man muttered, looking away. The hunter almost didn't hear it.
He bristled and stood. Dean walked over to the man, and was pleased to find that he was taller than him. "I have loved more deeply than a killer like you could ever imagine." He growled.
The man in the mask stared at him a moment, and then he stepped right into Dean's personal space, his eyes never leaving Dean's. Something in the hunter flinched, and even though he was taller than the man, it felt like the stranger was looming over him.
It was quite intimidating.
"You should show me some respect." The man's voice was dangerous and low. "I just pulled you out of a bad situation, but I could just as easily throw you into a worse one." He stepped back, and Dean felt like he could suddenly breathe again.
The man grabbed his arm. "Come."
They continued on their way.
Michael wasn't far behind as he picked up the vial still sitting at the table and gave it a sniff. "Rowena's bane." He determined. "I'd bet my life on it."
The prince stood and examined the ground around it. "And these are the prince's footprints. He's alive, or at least he was an hour ago." He quickly mounted his horse, and looked over at Metatron. "If he is otherwise when we find him, I'm not the one who will be telling Anna."
The men quickly did noses and Metatron cursed, as he was the last one. Raphael and Gadreel gave him sympathetic looks, as they wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the princess's wrath, but they didn't say anything.
They were close to their prize.
The duo stopped once more as they reached some rocks alongside a gully. "Rest, your Highness." The man in the trench coat again ordered.
Dean had been thinking about it since the guy had snatched him from Crowley's grasp, but finally, as he sat once more, the puzzle pieces fell into place. "I know who you are." He growled, anger bubbling under the surface. "You're mannerisms show everything. You're the Avenging Angel, admit it!"
The Angel smirked a bit and gave a bow. "With pride." As he straightened, he looked once more into Dean's eyes. "How might I be of service?"
"You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces!" Dean shouted, unable to sit any longer. He jumped up and paced back and forth. He was trying to get rid of his irritation, but this was the Angel. He could never forgive him.
The pirate pursed his lips, looking displeased. "That's not very nice." He replied. "What have I done to deserve your ire?"
The hunter stopped and turned to him. How could he not know? "You killed my love."
The Angel looked thoughtful. "It's possible." He admitted. "I've killed many men during my time. Who was this love of yours?" He walked over to one of the larger rocks and leaned against it. "Another princess like this one, rich and a nice figure?"
"No." Dean said softly, wistfully. His eyes gazed off into the distance. "A stable boy. Poor, with eyes like the sky on a sunny day." He paused, returning to the present, and turned to send an accusing look at the pirate. "Your ship attacked him as he was returning home. And the Avenging Angel never takes prisoners."
"I can't afford to make exceptions." The Angel replied. "If people heard word that a pirate went soft like that, they would disobey. Then it would simply be too much work." His face showed how that thought didn't agree with him.
Dean growled. How dare he! "Screw you." His voice was low as he said it. "You can't make fun of my pain!"
The Angel gave Dean a serious look, no mischief in his eyes. "Life is pain, your Highness." His tone brooked no argument. "Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something." He stood up straight and appeared thoughtful again. "I think I remember this stable boy of yours. It would have been about 5 years ago now?" He seemed to be searching for something as he looked up into Dean's face. "Does it bother you to hear?"
The hunter turned away petulantly. "Nothing you say can upset me."
"He died well. That should please you." The Angel said, nonchalantly. He continued as if he was simply talking about the weather and his natural monotone wasn't helping. "No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said, 'Please, I need to live.'" Dean watched from the corner of his eye as the pirate turned towards him. "It was the please that caught my memory. Most aren't polite to pirates as you can guess. I asked him what was so important. 'True love,' he replied and he even smiled a bit."
The hunter's breath caught, as he knew exactly what he was talking about.
"He went on to talk about a boy that was amazing and beautiful and faithful. I assume he meant you." The Angel huffed out a laugh again. "I guess you can thank me for killing him before he found out what you really are."
That jolted Dean from the stupor he had fall in. He turned back to the pirate. "And what am I?"
The Angel's eyes didn't leave him. "He spoke of faithfulness." He stepped closer, in Dean's space once more. "Tell me, when you found out he was dead, did you get engaged to your princess the very next day, or did you wait a week out of respect for the dead?"
"How dare you!" Dean growled. "You don't know anything! I died that day!" He paused for a bit as he took in the gully right behind the pirate. "And you can die, too, for all I care!" With those words, he pushed the Angel down the hill.
Dean was about to leave when that gravelly voice floated up to him from where the pirate was rolling down the hill. "As… you… wish!"
His stomach dropped and Dean whirled around. His eyes widened in realization. "Oh, my God! Castiel!" Without any more hesitation, he threw himself over and they rolled down into the gully.
Moments later, Michael and his entourage arrived at the top of the hill. The prince looked around, disgruntled. "They disappeared." He surmised. "Though unless I am wrong, and I never am wrong," a look at his cohorts prompted quick nods of agreement, "they are headed straight into Purgatory." He ignored their panicked looks as they rode off once more.
AN: Ta-da! Now I can stop writing "the man" or "the stranger" every other sentence. I know I cut out a lot of parallels to Buttercup's flowery language describing Wesley, but this is Dean Winchester so even that thing about Cas's eyes (which is true) is a bit much for him normally. I'm really trying hard not to make the characters too OOC while keeping in the spirit of the original material, The Princess Bride and Supernatural. Let me know how you think of things going so far!