DCBB Black Glass pt.9
Part 8
It had been a long time since Dean had seen Cas in civilized clothes, not since that day so long ago when he had been plucked and thawed from the snow. He hadn’t worn a thing created by other hands, always preferring the skins and weaves he made himself. Now he made quite a regal sight, clad in rich white robes, though he wore them with obvious disdain. He growled and plucked Girl from the hands of the young woman who had helped dress him and reset his wing. Girl squealed in obvious delight and his stony expression faltered for mere moments before he silenced her and trudged back to their tent. The day had been rough on Cas and Dean both.
“He must learn of his birth-right,” the woman had begun, clutching Dean’s arm when he tried to shoo her away. He had stayed awake the entire night, watching over his mate and child in their fitful slumber.
“Come off it,” Dean had snarled, jerking his arm from her bony grasp, “I know enough, and he doesn’t need to know.”
“Obviously you do not, foreigner, or you would not have brought him this far north!” She hissed, and Dean paused.
“What does that have to do with anything? We’re too far away from the Empire for it to matter anyway. I haven’t seen a scout in weeks.”
“Because you have undoubtedly been travelling through the forest, the soldiers have started patrolling the river,” she said, motioning to the lazily churning snake of water at the edge of camp, “and are headed down this way as we speak.”
“We’ll be long gone before they get here,” Dean said, frowning at the river. He had intended to follow the riverside for a few days to gain his bearings, but now that didn’t seem like an option. It wouldn’t be much trouble; Cas could easily find them a route in the forest again. Cas relied on the stars and the position of the heavenly bodies, he did not rely on nature to point the way. Nature…she could be a tricky thing.
“You will stay for as long as Castiel’s wing needs to heal,” the woman stated with a sense of finality that Dean did not like.
“Cas is leaving with me at first light tomorrow morning, do not attempt to persuade me otherwise.” He growled. Dean did not appreciate the way the woman and the others referred to his mate by Castiel. That was not his name. His name was Cas, and he was Dean’s as much as Dean was his.
Dean stalked back to their tent, thinking over when they could leave. That old crone seemed hell-bent on keeping them in the encampment for as long as possible. That wouldn’t do. They couldn’t possibly stay for long, it was too risky. The people here seemed to almost…worship Cas. While he was here, they said they were safe, but Dean wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t right the way they were looking at them, at them both. And he knew the looks they gave he and Girl were less than kind. They loved Cas, but they despised Dean and his nameless spawn.
He pushed the tent flap back and saw Cas leaning on his side, feeding Girl and smiling softly. He looked up momentarily with a frown before relaxing, seeing it was only Dean. Not even Cas trusted these people, in fact he was damned uncomfortable around them.
“Tonight, we leave tonight.”
Cas nodded, bundling Girl in his furs. He had already changed back into his own clothes, and Dean noticed the robes he had worn earlier were piled into the fire, crackling and blackening and curling.
“We can’t go after them, you’re talking suicide!” Sam gasped, attempting to rise and stop Gabriel’s frantic running about. The man had got it in his head that they would have to follow them and stop them from reaching the Empire.
“They have no idea what they’re getting themselves into! It’s our duty to follow them, to put a stop to this…”
“Gabriel!” Sam snarled, effectively halting the other man’s movements. “This won’t be a stroll through some palace garden…this is the far north we’re talking about. Only Dean, Cas, and our father ever dared hunt that far. It’s dangerous, not to mention the fact that we aren’t even prepared for such a journey. We don’t have the equipment, we don’t have the clothes, the supplies, enough food to last us…We have nothing, Gabriel. We just need to wait this out. For all we know they could be on their way back home as we speak.”
“And if they aren’t?!” Gabriel fired back, equally enraged. “Are you telling me to lay idle while Michael may already have my…have Castiel in custody? And what of Dean? He is a wildsman to them…a savage. They will put him down like a dog, Sam.”
Sam grimaced. It was true, his brother was almost as bad with people as Cas was, and wouldn’t take too kindly to being imprisoned without cause. They would have to kill him. He could imagine it now; his brother, beaten and bloody dragged through the streets of the Empire in chains, being spat on and jeered at like some sort of animal. He couldn’t bear the thought. And Cas…his fate would be much worse. They were both silent, socially awkward; Cas was…he believed he was a creature, not a man.
“We have to find them,” Gabriel reiterated, stopping in front of Sam who still sat numb in his seat by the fireplace. Sam nodded dumbly and stood, towering over the small man but he could tell that Gabriel had long since become used to his shorter stature. “Come on,” Gabriel muttered, patting his shoulder, “Let’s go get our boys back.”
Dean snorted awake in the middle of the night. He didn’t wake up because it was too hot or cold-their fire had dimmed to comfortably warm coals and embers-and he hadn’t heard any noise. Something nudged his front and he frowned, grunting sleepily when he propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed his eyes with the back of his other hand. He looked down and saw Girl, half out of her wrappings, crawling around the fire pit, gurgling happily. Dean looked across the tent with a scowl, seeing Cas curled up on his side, extended arm achingly empty and cold where Girl normally burrowed late at night. Dean sighed and scratched at the back of his head, pursing his lips. Cas kept Girl close because he knew what Dean was loath to admit even to himself that he wanted nothing to do with her. Normally Cas did a good job keeping her away from him, and as far as Dean could tell Girl didn’t even view him as a parental figure, but there were still nights like this when Girl scrabbled out of his arms and crawled to Dean’s side. He grimaced when she cooed up at his face, smiling like a little idiot and he couldn’t help but grin at her. She was a fool, just like her daddy.
Dean heard a soft cry from across the embers and he looked up. Cas was regarding him with wide, panicked eyes. He stared at Girl, mouth agape, then back to Dean, and Dean could see just how tense he was. Cas actually thought he was going to hurt her. He didn’t know whether to be surprised or offended.
“It’s okay, Cas…” Dean murmured, voice a guttural rumble, thick with sleep. He tapped at Girl’s fingers and she smiled at him. He drew her close and wrapped her up again, it wouldn’t do to have her freeze to death in the night. In his peripheral Dean could see Cas still as tense as ever, but he was determined to show Cas that he wanted a part in this, that Girl was a fact in their life now, and he wouldn’t abandon her.
“See?” Dean said, pulling her against his chest as he curled up on his side to shelter her with his body. Cas trilled quietly, shuffling as close as the embers and his wings would allow, close enough to lay a calloused, scarred hand over Dean’s. He pulled it to his lips and kissed Dean’s knuckles, each one, and breathed over his fingers till he relaxed and soon fell asleep, Dean’s hand still in his. Dean sighed and looked back down at Girl, who was also asleep. Her hair was growing in, and it was turning darker than his. She would have Lisa’s midnight tresses, of that he was certain.
He tried to fall back asleep, but the unfamiliar noises of the camp kept him awake; the squealing of others’ infants, the rushing of the river water that was a deafening thrum, a few dogs that barked and howled at something in the night but were silenced with a quick reprimand from their owner, the sounds of insects that were still so alien to his ears. Everything was different by the river, and already far different than their peace in their cabin by the lake. Things were changing, both in the air and in their hearts, and Dean was hesitant to see where it led them.
Sam woke to screams and protests. He lurched from the bed when his door was kicked in, splinters flew and armored men poured in, pointing rifles at his head. As with every high stress situation that Sam had experienced in his life, he couldn’t exactly tell what was going on till he was tossed out of his own house and barked at continuously by the gunmen to stay on the ground. He looked around with a vague sense of fear and saw Gabriel, also kneeling on the ground. He didn’t look particularly worried, then again he hadn’t been the one harassed by these people for weeks now. They remained there, kneeling in the snow, for what felt like hours while Sam watched countless soldiers rip through his cabin, tearing it apart, searching…for what he had a pretty good idea now that Gabriel had shown up at his front porch. He heard his mother screaming from upstairs and he twitched, and immediately felt the cool steel of a rifle barrel against his brow.
“Move, forester,” the soldier chuckled, “go on.”
The rifle struck his forehead and he grunted, falling to the side. He tensed, but he wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t like his brother, or even worse, like Cas. He remained completely still on the ground, watching the soldiers throw items from the windows, saw them raid their food stores and pocket his mother’s old jewelry. Blood trickled into his eye and he hissed, blinking fiercely. A handkerchief was tossed in front of his face and he saw Gabriel watching the soldiers as well, with no small amount of hatred. He took the offered cloth with muttered thanks and dabbed at the cut on his head.
“They’re not gonna find what they’re looking for…” Sam murmured so only Gabriel could hear.
“Won’t stop them from trying,” he snorted, “besides, judging from what you told me, I think they’re running low on time and patience with you.”
“It’s not my fault my brother figured all this out and left on his own!” Sam hissed, pausing for a moment as a soldier walked by, scuffing snow and mud onto his thigh, but he thought nothing of it. “I wish he would have told me, at least where he was headed, that way we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“What, you would have told the soldiers?”
“No! I would have followed his sorry ass and went with them.”
“Hey! Stop talking!” The same soldier from before struck Sam again, this time on the shoulder. Sam grunted in annoyance but fell silent. When the man walked away again Gabriel leaned in close, voice a conspiring whisper.
“What we do now, though, is the question…”
He leaned away when more guards poured out of the house, talking angrily amongst themselves and periodically sending Sam and Gabriel dirty looks while his mother screamed away from her attic rooms. He overheard their leader speaking of extradition, about bringing Sam and Gabriel back to the Empire to speak for their crimes. They would have to go into the town first for supplies and information. Gabriel whispered to just let it happen, let them take them, he had enough contacts in the Basilica, they could escape then. Sam merely nodded, eyes not once leaving his cabin, even when it went up in flames.
Cas woke slowly, like the time he fell in the lake when he was young and John pulled him up. He could feel the water against his skin like hands pulling, dragging him back down into the depths. If only he had drowned.
Things had become…complicated. Much too complicated for him to muster out himself, and he couldn’t exactly ask Dean to tell him what the hell was happening. He didn’t like the strange people in the camp, and was glad Dean wanted to leave early, but they had planted the seed of doubt in his mind. Why would they treat him in such a way? Why look upon his wings with awe, and fear? He smelled their fear over the stench of fish. It stank and clawed into his head till it kept its home there. Now he feared.
Dean had shook his shoulder, holding a finger to his lips, as if he had to do that, and set about packing the rest of their scattered belongings. Cas whirred gently as he stirred, noticing Dean had already tied Girl’s sling across his chest, and Girl was nestled in a fur by the door, still fast asleep. Cas breathed deep and rubbed at his eyes, waking himself up. Dean handed him a piece of squirrel jerky he had already bit off of and Cas accepted it, tearing at the meat and chewing, grateful for the nourishment and the distraction. They packed quickly, quietly, and efficiently, till it seemed as if no one had ever set foot in the tent before them. Cas bent and scooped up Girl, who murmured softly in her sleep but thankfully did not stir.
He left the tent first. The moon was still fat in the sky, though paled by the coming morn, and already the ink retreated to the far corners of the world to welcome the hazy blue of dawn. The camp was quiet, the dogs Dean had heard earlier were nowhere to be seen, and Cas couldn’t sense anything afoot, so they prayed for continued silence and set out on foot. They kept to the outskirts of the camp, trailing along the riverside, and not once did they see a living soul. Cas couldn’t even hear the screams of infants. It was far too quiet.
Dean hissed in warning and ducked behind a tent, signaling for him to do the same. Cas hid behind the tent to the left, tucking his wings in as close as he could manage, then peered around the edge, alarmed by what he saw.
Rows of men with rifles stood silent, waiting it seemed for some silent signal. They wore strange coverings of metal plates adorned with regalia that he felt like he should have recognized. The rifles were fixed with small knives at the ends, bayonets…and immediately he felt the fear tighten its hold. They were here for him, there was no doubt in his mind now. His wings made him different, special, so special the old woman wanted to keep him hidden away in their camp so no other could see. They were why Dean said they could never go home. It was all about him.
“Where is he?!” Cas heard the one in front yell. He wore more coverings than the others, and sat atop a white horse that also wore plated coverings, which couldn’t have been too comfortable for the poor thing, or that light.
Another soldier kicked the old woman between her shoulder blades and she fell to her hands and knees, begging with them to let them be in peace, that there was no one here they sought. Cas winced in sympathy when the soldier kicked her again. She cried out in agony, and Cas knew the sound. The pain was too much for her frail old bones, she wouldn’t last much longer. He keened but Dean ran to his side, holding him still by his wing.
“We need to leave right now…” Dean hissed. Despite not owing them a thing, Cas was reluctant to leave the refugees behind, captive. He shook his head, still staring at the riflemen as they branched out around the camp, kicking over pots, torching tents, looking for something.
“Now, Cas!”
“Hey!”
Cas jerked and looked around the tent; two soldiers were headed in their direction. They ran. They ran down the shore and Dean’s breaths were quick and panicked when he looked next to them, at the water and then the forest and mountains to their left, beyond the river. There was a canoe tied to the shore straight ahead, and Dean grimaced when he jerked Cas to it and shoved him down onto the old wood. Cas protested loudly when he saw the soldiers running after them, gaining on them, he grasped at Dean’s shoulders, trying to drag him in with him, but Dean waded into the water, pushing the canoe, giving it one last kick and the current caught it. He threw the paddle at Cas who caught it easily, but cried out when Dean was restrained by the men.
“Run Cas! You run and you do not look back!” Dean screamed, fighting the soldiers, shoving them into the freezing water, snapping their necks and fingers and arms, snarling and biting and clawing. A soldier approached the canoe and Cas swung the heavy paddle in a wide arc, hitting him somewhere between his jaw and his cheekbone, he fell and didn’t resurface. The river ran red. Cas paddled with heavy strokes, whining when Girl woke and screamed against his chest, vocalizing what he himself could not. Soldiers were running along the riverside, shouting at him to come ashore, pointing their guns at him, but he kept paddling. Dean tore after them, roaring and shooting and killing, the sounds of shots rang through the rush of water, Dean was red all over, all Cas could see was red and he wanted to scream at Dean to run, that they were safe in the water. But Dean kept going, kept fighting, they were going to kill him or he them.
A shot rang out, Dean stopped, Cas screamed. He felt the sound rip through his throat, mangling it, tearing it to pieces; he heard it form into something terrible that dredged the water from the bottom of the sea like a wave, like the strike of an anvil, breaking the rock in twain, it formed the jagged, torn edges of his mate’s name and it echoed in the hollows of his skull. They drifted around the river bend, Cas couldn’t see Dean fall.
It had been a long time since Dean had seen Cas in civilized clothes, not since that day so long ago when he had been plucked and thawed from the snow. He hadn’t worn a thing created by other hands, always preferring the skins and weaves he made himself. Now he made quite a regal sight, clad in rich white robes, though he wore them with obvious disdain. He growled and plucked Girl from the hands of the young woman who had helped dress him and reset his wing. Girl squealed in obvious delight and his stony expression faltered for mere moments before he silenced her and trudged back to their tent. The day had been rough on Cas and Dean both.
“He must learn of his birth-right,” the woman had begun, clutching Dean’s arm when he tried to shoo her away. He had stayed awake the entire night, watching over his mate and child in their fitful slumber.
“Come off it,” Dean had snarled, jerking his arm from her bony grasp, “I know enough, and he doesn’t need to know.”
“Obviously you do not, foreigner, or you would not have brought him this far north!” She hissed, and Dean paused.
“What does that have to do with anything? We’re too far away from the Empire for it to matter anyway. I haven’t seen a scout in weeks.”
“Because you have undoubtedly been travelling through the forest, the soldiers have started patrolling the river,” she said, motioning to the lazily churning snake of water at the edge of camp, “and are headed down this way as we speak.”
“We’ll be long gone before they get here,” Dean said, frowning at the river. He had intended to follow the riverside for a few days to gain his bearings, but now that didn’t seem like an option. It wouldn’t be much trouble; Cas could easily find them a route in the forest again. Cas relied on the stars and the position of the heavenly bodies, he did not rely on nature to point the way. Nature…she could be a tricky thing.
“You will stay for as long as Castiel’s wing needs to heal,” the woman stated with a sense of finality that Dean did not like.
“Cas is leaving with me at first light tomorrow morning, do not attempt to persuade me otherwise.” He growled. Dean did not appreciate the way the woman and the others referred to his mate by Castiel. That was not his name. His name was Cas, and he was Dean’s as much as Dean was his.
Dean stalked back to their tent, thinking over when they could leave. That old crone seemed hell-bent on keeping them in the encampment for as long as possible. That wouldn’t do. They couldn’t possibly stay for long, it was too risky. The people here seemed to almost…worship Cas. While he was here, they said they were safe, but Dean wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t right the way they were looking at them, at them both. And he knew the looks they gave he and Girl were less than kind. They loved Cas, but they despised Dean and his nameless spawn.
He pushed the tent flap back and saw Cas leaning on his side, feeding Girl and smiling softly. He looked up momentarily with a frown before relaxing, seeing it was only Dean. Not even Cas trusted these people, in fact he was damned uncomfortable around them.
“Tonight, we leave tonight.”
Cas nodded, bundling Girl in his furs. He had already changed back into his own clothes, and Dean noticed the robes he had worn earlier were piled into the fire, crackling and blackening and curling.
“We can’t go after them, you’re talking suicide!” Sam gasped, attempting to rise and stop Gabriel’s frantic running about. The man had got it in his head that they would have to follow them and stop them from reaching the Empire.
“They have no idea what they’re getting themselves into! It’s our duty to follow them, to put a stop to this…”
“Gabriel!” Sam snarled, effectively halting the other man’s movements. “This won’t be a stroll through some palace garden…this is the far north we’re talking about. Only Dean, Cas, and our father ever dared hunt that far. It’s dangerous, not to mention the fact that we aren’t even prepared for such a journey. We don’t have the equipment, we don’t have the clothes, the supplies, enough food to last us…We have nothing, Gabriel. We just need to wait this out. For all we know they could be on their way back home as we speak.”
“And if they aren’t?!” Gabriel fired back, equally enraged. “Are you telling me to lay idle while Michael may already have my…have Castiel in custody? And what of Dean? He is a wildsman to them…a savage. They will put him down like a dog, Sam.”
Sam grimaced. It was true, his brother was almost as bad with people as Cas was, and wouldn’t take too kindly to being imprisoned without cause. They would have to kill him. He could imagine it now; his brother, beaten and bloody dragged through the streets of the Empire in chains, being spat on and jeered at like some sort of animal. He couldn’t bear the thought. And Cas…his fate would be much worse. They were both silent, socially awkward; Cas was…he believed he was a creature, not a man.
“We have to find them,” Gabriel reiterated, stopping in front of Sam who still sat numb in his seat by the fireplace. Sam nodded dumbly and stood, towering over the small man but he could tell that Gabriel had long since become used to his shorter stature. “Come on,” Gabriel muttered, patting his shoulder, “Let’s go get our boys back.”
Dean snorted awake in the middle of the night. He didn’t wake up because it was too hot or cold-their fire had dimmed to comfortably warm coals and embers-and he hadn’t heard any noise. Something nudged his front and he frowned, grunting sleepily when he propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed his eyes with the back of his other hand. He looked down and saw Girl, half out of her wrappings, crawling around the fire pit, gurgling happily. Dean looked across the tent with a scowl, seeing Cas curled up on his side, extended arm achingly empty and cold where Girl normally burrowed late at night. Dean sighed and scratched at the back of his head, pursing his lips. Cas kept Girl close because he knew what Dean was loath to admit even to himself that he wanted nothing to do with her. Normally Cas did a good job keeping her away from him, and as far as Dean could tell Girl didn’t even view him as a parental figure, but there were still nights like this when Girl scrabbled out of his arms and crawled to Dean’s side. He grimaced when she cooed up at his face, smiling like a little idiot and he couldn’t help but grin at her. She was a fool, just like her daddy.
Dean heard a soft cry from across the embers and he looked up. Cas was regarding him with wide, panicked eyes. He stared at Girl, mouth agape, then back to Dean, and Dean could see just how tense he was. Cas actually thought he was going to hurt her. He didn’t know whether to be surprised or offended.
“It’s okay, Cas…” Dean murmured, voice a guttural rumble, thick with sleep. He tapped at Girl’s fingers and she smiled at him. He drew her close and wrapped her up again, it wouldn’t do to have her freeze to death in the night. In his peripheral Dean could see Cas still as tense as ever, but he was determined to show Cas that he wanted a part in this, that Girl was a fact in their life now, and he wouldn’t abandon her.
“See?” Dean said, pulling her against his chest as he curled up on his side to shelter her with his body. Cas trilled quietly, shuffling as close as the embers and his wings would allow, close enough to lay a calloused, scarred hand over Dean’s. He pulled it to his lips and kissed Dean’s knuckles, each one, and breathed over his fingers till he relaxed and soon fell asleep, Dean’s hand still in his. Dean sighed and looked back down at Girl, who was also asleep. Her hair was growing in, and it was turning darker than his. She would have Lisa’s midnight tresses, of that he was certain.
He tried to fall back asleep, but the unfamiliar noises of the camp kept him awake; the squealing of others’ infants, the rushing of the river water that was a deafening thrum, a few dogs that barked and howled at something in the night but were silenced with a quick reprimand from their owner, the sounds of insects that were still so alien to his ears. Everything was different by the river, and already far different than their peace in their cabin by the lake. Things were changing, both in the air and in their hearts, and Dean was hesitant to see where it led them.
Sam woke to screams and protests. He lurched from the bed when his door was kicked in, splinters flew and armored men poured in, pointing rifles at his head. As with every high stress situation that Sam had experienced in his life, he couldn’t exactly tell what was going on till he was tossed out of his own house and barked at continuously by the gunmen to stay on the ground. He looked around with a vague sense of fear and saw Gabriel, also kneeling on the ground. He didn’t look particularly worried, then again he hadn’t been the one harassed by these people for weeks now. They remained there, kneeling in the snow, for what felt like hours while Sam watched countless soldiers rip through his cabin, tearing it apart, searching…for what he had a pretty good idea now that Gabriel had shown up at his front porch. He heard his mother screaming from upstairs and he twitched, and immediately felt the cool steel of a rifle barrel against his brow.
“Move, forester,” the soldier chuckled, “go on.”
The rifle struck his forehead and he grunted, falling to the side. He tensed, but he wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t like his brother, or even worse, like Cas. He remained completely still on the ground, watching the soldiers throw items from the windows, saw them raid their food stores and pocket his mother’s old jewelry. Blood trickled into his eye and he hissed, blinking fiercely. A handkerchief was tossed in front of his face and he saw Gabriel watching the soldiers as well, with no small amount of hatred. He took the offered cloth with muttered thanks and dabbed at the cut on his head.
“They’re not gonna find what they’re looking for…” Sam murmured so only Gabriel could hear.
“Won’t stop them from trying,” he snorted, “besides, judging from what you told me, I think they’re running low on time and patience with you.”
“It’s not my fault my brother figured all this out and left on his own!” Sam hissed, pausing for a moment as a soldier walked by, scuffing snow and mud onto his thigh, but he thought nothing of it. “I wish he would have told me, at least where he was headed, that way we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“What, you would have told the soldiers?”
“No! I would have followed his sorry ass and went with them.”
“Hey! Stop talking!” The same soldier from before struck Sam again, this time on the shoulder. Sam grunted in annoyance but fell silent. When the man walked away again Gabriel leaned in close, voice a conspiring whisper.
“What we do now, though, is the question…”
He leaned away when more guards poured out of the house, talking angrily amongst themselves and periodically sending Sam and Gabriel dirty looks while his mother screamed away from her attic rooms. He overheard their leader speaking of extradition, about bringing Sam and Gabriel back to the Empire to speak for their crimes. They would have to go into the town first for supplies and information. Gabriel whispered to just let it happen, let them take them, he had enough contacts in the Basilica, they could escape then. Sam merely nodded, eyes not once leaving his cabin, even when it went up in flames.
Cas woke slowly, like the time he fell in the lake when he was young and John pulled him up. He could feel the water against his skin like hands pulling, dragging him back down into the depths. If only he had drowned.
Things had become…complicated. Much too complicated for him to muster out himself, and he couldn’t exactly ask Dean to tell him what the hell was happening. He didn’t like the strange people in the camp, and was glad Dean wanted to leave early, but they had planted the seed of doubt in his mind. Why would they treat him in such a way? Why look upon his wings with awe, and fear? He smelled their fear over the stench of fish. It stank and clawed into his head till it kept its home there. Now he feared.
Dean had shook his shoulder, holding a finger to his lips, as if he had to do that, and set about packing the rest of their scattered belongings. Cas whirred gently as he stirred, noticing Dean had already tied Girl’s sling across his chest, and Girl was nestled in a fur by the door, still fast asleep. Cas breathed deep and rubbed at his eyes, waking himself up. Dean handed him a piece of squirrel jerky he had already bit off of and Cas accepted it, tearing at the meat and chewing, grateful for the nourishment and the distraction. They packed quickly, quietly, and efficiently, till it seemed as if no one had ever set foot in the tent before them. Cas bent and scooped up Girl, who murmured softly in her sleep but thankfully did not stir.
He left the tent first. The moon was still fat in the sky, though paled by the coming morn, and already the ink retreated to the far corners of the world to welcome the hazy blue of dawn. The camp was quiet, the dogs Dean had heard earlier were nowhere to be seen, and Cas couldn’t sense anything afoot, so they prayed for continued silence and set out on foot. They kept to the outskirts of the camp, trailing along the riverside, and not once did they see a living soul. Cas couldn’t even hear the screams of infants. It was far too quiet.
Dean hissed in warning and ducked behind a tent, signaling for him to do the same. Cas hid behind the tent to the left, tucking his wings in as close as he could manage, then peered around the edge, alarmed by what he saw.
Rows of men with rifles stood silent, waiting it seemed for some silent signal. They wore strange coverings of metal plates adorned with regalia that he felt like he should have recognized. The rifles were fixed with small knives at the ends, bayonets…and immediately he felt the fear tighten its hold. They were here for him, there was no doubt in his mind now. His wings made him different, special, so special the old woman wanted to keep him hidden away in their camp so no other could see. They were why Dean said they could never go home. It was all about him.
“Where is he?!” Cas heard the one in front yell. He wore more coverings than the others, and sat atop a white horse that also wore plated coverings, which couldn’t have been too comfortable for the poor thing, or that light.
Another soldier kicked the old woman between her shoulder blades and she fell to her hands and knees, begging with them to let them be in peace, that there was no one here they sought. Cas winced in sympathy when the soldier kicked her again. She cried out in agony, and Cas knew the sound. The pain was too much for her frail old bones, she wouldn’t last much longer. He keened but Dean ran to his side, holding him still by his wing.
“We need to leave right now…” Dean hissed. Despite not owing them a thing, Cas was reluctant to leave the refugees behind, captive. He shook his head, still staring at the riflemen as they branched out around the camp, kicking over pots, torching tents, looking for something.
“Now, Cas!”
“Hey!”
Cas jerked and looked around the tent; two soldiers were headed in their direction. They ran. They ran down the shore and Dean’s breaths were quick and panicked when he looked next to them, at the water and then the forest and mountains to their left, beyond the river. There was a canoe tied to the shore straight ahead, and Dean grimaced when he jerked Cas to it and shoved him down onto the old wood. Cas protested loudly when he saw the soldiers running after them, gaining on them, he grasped at Dean’s shoulders, trying to drag him in with him, but Dean waded into the water, pushing the canoe, giving it one last kick and the current caught it. He threw the paddle at Cas who caught it easily, but cried out when Dean was restrained by the men.
“Run Cas! You run and you do not look back!” Dean screamed, fighting the soldiers, shoving them into the freezing water, snapping their necks and fingers and arms, snarling and biting and clawing. A soldier approached the canoe and Cas swung the heavy paddle in a wide arc, hitting him somewhere between his jaw and his cheekbone, he fell and didn’t resurface. The river ran red. Cas paddled with heavy strokes, whining when Girl woke and screamed against his chest, vocalizing what he himself could not. Soldiers were running along the riverside, shouting at him to come ashore, pointing their guns at him, but he kept paddling. Dean tore after them, roaring and shooting and killing, the sounds of shots rang through the rush of water, Dean was red all over, all Cas could see was red and he wanted to scream at Dean to run, that they were safe in the water. But Dean kept going, kept fighting, they were going to kill him or he them.
A shot rang out, Dean stopped, Cas screamed. He felt the sound rip through his throat, mangling it, tearing it to pieces; he heard it form into something terrible that dredged the water from the bottom of the sea like a wave, like the strike of an anvil, breaking the rock in twain, it formed the jagged, torn edges of his mate’s name and it echoed in the hollows of his skull. They drifted around the river bend, Cas couldn’t see Dean fall.