Always with you - Chapter 12
Title: Always with you
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural AU/Romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Chuck/Becky, Sam/Sarah
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 46400
Warnings: some angst, mentions of violence, implied character death (disappearance)
Previous chapter: Chapter 11
Chapter twelve - A different kind of knight
Dean woke up to loud whickering, coming from much nearer than the stables.
“What on earth?” He muttered, trying to sit up. His head was pounding wildly, mouth dry as if someone had stuffed a cotton ball into it, and bitter like medicine. He was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn the day before. The bed was empty, no sheets in sight, only a tan trenchcoat wrapped halfway around his torso. Shucking the coat off of his shoulders, he walked to the window. Looking out, he almost fell on his back in surprise. There was a huge, beautiful Friesian horse on the lawn, with one of its front legs stretched out straight forward, the other bent at the knee, its head bowed down, almost touching the ground. “What on earth?” Dean repeated, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was sure that it was just a dream, or a hallucination. It had to be one of those, because trained, Friesian show horses were not exactly known for wandering around, and he would have known if Chuck had bought one. No matter how long he rubbed his eyes though, the horse was still there. The only difference was that it lifted its beautiful head while Dean wasn’t looking, and it was staring up at him from under the long locks of its mane.
Dean hurried down the stairs, and tiptoed past Sam, who was sleeping on the couch. When Dean stepped of the house, he found that the horse had moved again, and had come closer to the door, whinnying quietly. Careful not to startle it, Dean took a step towards it, and to his biggest surprise the horse did the same. Three more steps later the horse was close enough for Dean to touch, and before he could have reached out, the horse overtook the lead, nudging his shoulder with its nose.
“Hey there, sweetheart. You’re so gorgeous. Oh, you are really beautiful,” Dean cooed quietly, stroking the horse’s mane. He ran his hand over its neck, looking for any identification signs, but he didn’t find anything. He crouched down to check if the horse was male or female, and ascertained that it was a stallion. “Where are you from, huh?” he asked, expecting no answer, but suddenly the horse lifted his head, making Dean’s hand slide a little lower on his neck, and there was something small under his skin. “You have a microchip? Great, let’s see who you belong to.” Dean started walking towards the stable to get the chip scanner, and without being prompted, the horse followed him. Once Dean found the scanner, it didn’t take long to check the number on the chip and search for it in the database. It turned out that his name was Devil’s Advocate and that he came from a very prominent bloodline, but there was no information about his owner. “That’s weird,” Dean muttered.
All of a sudden, Devil’s Advocate made a loud, yelp-like sound, and Dean saw Emmaline’s head sticking out from her box, bared teeth still dangerously close to the Friesian’s rear end. It was obvious what had happened, and suddenly Dean saw red. “What the hell did you do, you stupid bitch? Biting is not allowed in this godforsaken stable, damn it!” He yelled at the mare, pushing her head back inside, and without thinking he slammed the upper half of the door closed too. That was something he had never done before, and Becky, who had witnessed the whole scene, was almost shaking in fear. She could feel the anger coming off of Dean in waves, and it was crippling her. For a moment she was afraid Dean would notice her rooted to the spot on the threshold, and maybe take a swing at her, but it didn’t happen. Dean sank to the ground, back against the wall of Emmaline’s stall. Devil’s Advocate nudged him gently, taking a step closer to Dean, and when the man reached out to stroke the horse’s neck, he took another step, and let Dean bury his face into his thick, pitch-black mane. Becky could see from the shaking of his shoulders that he was crying, and she turned around to leave him alone. Silently closing the entrance gate behind her, she leaned against it. The current situation wasn’t easy on her either, but she couldn’t even imagine how bad it must be for Dean. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Chuck sneaking up on her, and she cried out when he circled his arms around her from behind.
“You scared the ever-living crap out of me!” She turned to face Chuck, and plunged her pointer finger into his chest.
“Sorry. How’s Dean? Did you find him?”
“He’s in the stable. Apparently he’s got a new horse, or something. I didn’t talk to him, but he’s not okay. He yelled at Emmaline. I have never seen him so angry at a horse before. Or in general, for that matter. He was kinda scary,” she admitted quietly.
“Let’s just hope that Sam is right, and Dean will get through it without any lasting aftereffects.”
The arrival of Devil’s Advocate was a welcomed distraction, but it was also only temporary. For a while, it was enough to take Dean’s mind off of Castiel’s disappearance, but the wonder of it wore off quickly, and soon the painful tug of worry and sadness was back. Trying to fight it took all of Dean’s strength, but eventually he lost the fight. He spent the better part of the day with tearing up the neighborhood, looking for any sign of Castiel. The bay where the accident happened was still busy, search parties, bay guards and the occasional police officers trying to scour up new pieces of evidence… or a dead body. The latter was something Dean didn’t want to think about, even though he knew that Castiel was probably dead. For hours he walked, looking everywhere for his lover. The only thing resulting from that was his growing frustration, and sometime early in the afternoon, he reached the point where he just couldn’t stop the tears of anger and pain.
After he arrived back at the Shurley estate both mentally and physically exhausted, he spent a few hours trying to track down anyone who could know anything about a lost Friesian. He called every horse ranch, circus and horse show in a sixty miles radius, but it seemed like Devil’s Advocate didn’t even exist. Dean posted entries on several online forums about horses, hoping to hear from the horse’s owner soon, but until that happened, he decided to handle the horse as if it was one of their own. Becky squealed with delight when she saw the horse, nicknaming him Date immediately after Dean told her his name. Dean found the nickname stupid at first, but Becky repeated it so many times while she helped Dean scrubbing the horse down, that it stuck.
Later that day Dean took Devil’s Advocate out for a ride. Despite his size, Date was amazingly graceful, his steps light, almost as if he was dancing. He was also incredibly good at following both vocal and touch-transmitted instructions, reacting quickly and effectively to all of them. Dean didn’t know how used to running Date was, so he made it easy on him, but when they heard something that sounded like a young girl’s scream, Date shot off at break-neck speed towards the source of it without being prompted to.
The sound indeed came from a little girl. She was struggling to get away from a masked man, who tried to drag her to his minivan. Dean didn’t even really have the time to analyze the situation they rode right into the middle of, before the man pulled out a knife, holding it to the child’s throat.
“Come any closer, and I will slit her throat,” the man said, flashing a creepily child-like smile at Dean through the hole of his mask over his mouth. The smile turned into an ugly sneer when Dean slid down from Date’s back. Dean was anything but calm, but he took a step closer to the man. Even though he had never heard that raspy voice before, he was sure he knew him. It was the same man Tyler was talking about, and for the second time that day, Dean saw red, but for a very different reason this time.
“You son of a bitch!” he hissed, and took another step. The man pressed the blade closer to the girl’s throat, and she stopped struggling.
“Look at that. What do you think you are, the white knight in shining armor?” He asked with a weird cadence, completely focused on Dean, not paying a second of attention to the horse silently inching its way closer to him.
“Nope, but I’m the one with a smart horse!” Dean yelled right in the moment Date’s front right hoof hit the man’s right elbow with a sickening crunch. He dropped the knife and the girl too. Screaming, she ran to hide behind Dean. The man was writhing on the ground, clutching his obviously broken arm tightly against his chest.
“What’s your name?” Dean crouched down to the level of the small girl.
“Gloria,” she answered, lips trembling, her huge brown eyes filled with tears.
“Okay, Gloria. Have you ever sat on a horse?”
“No.” She shook her head, sending her brown pigtails flying.
“Now you will,” Dean said, picking her up and put her onto Date’s back. “Hold on tight!” He instructed her, and walked up to the man who was still lying on the ground, deadly still by now. Just for safety’s sake, Dean kicked the knife even farther away, even though the man was unconscious. While dialing the police and then talking to the dispatcher, Dean pulled off the man’s mask. The sneer seemed to be permanently frozen onto his face, but other than that, he looked like a normal, ordinary guy, nothing special or creepy about him. Except his bloodshot eyes, which popped open when Dean bent closer, and the man grabbed his neck. Gloria screamed again, hugging Date’s neck tightly.
Dean struggled against the stranglehold, but it didn’t seem to be much help. His vision was swimming, dark spots blacking out half of the world, but Dean landed a kick into the man’s groin, and he was released immediately. Using the momentary weakness of the man, Dean found a rock, and hit the man’s head with it. This time he knew better than going any closer, but the man didn’t move. Soon the police arrived. Not surprisingly, they knew who he was when they saw him. They didn’t know his name, but there was a warrant on him under the pseudonym Alastair, for multiple kidnappings and even murders. It only occurred to Dean later, how lucky Tyler was that she wasn’t killed. Dean gave his statement, and then the officers left, with Alastair handcuffed to the backseat.
An ambulance came to check up on Gloria, and soon after that her parents arrived too. It turned out that she was supposed to be on a field trip with her class on the Harvelle Estate, but she ran off when no one noticed. Her mother scolded her, but she was too happy to be really angry. Tears were streaming from her eyes when she thanked Dean, and Gloria’s father seemed to be close to tears too. When no one was looking, Dean climbed onto Date’s back, and they trotted home.
~.~.~.~.~.~“They say time heals all wounds. That’s bullshit. You only get used to the pain,” Dean explained, lying on his back on the hay-covered ground, nursing a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. Devil’s Advocate looked at him with his huge, dark chocolate eyes, almost human-like understanding shining from them. He moved to nudge Dean, then nuzzled his face, and Dean reached out to caress the horse’s soft nose, only to find that he couldn’t quite control his limbs. He let his hand fall, and continued talking. “I’ve been looking for him for hours every day, like a mad man. Maybe I’m really mad. It’s been months now without Cas. Fucking months without him, and it’s not a damn bit easier. That sucks,” he hiccupped, “You know, maybe we’d even be married by now. He was always good at bringing out the chick-flicky side of me. He just looked at me with those big baby blues, and most of my common sense went poof.” Dean let out a humorless chuckle, and turned onto his side, curling up into a ball. Date just stood there, facing Dean, his hot breath fanning over the man’s face as breathing evened out slowly. Only after he fell asleep did Date close his eyes too.
Long and peaceful sleep was something that hardly ever came to Dean in those days, and that particular night wasn’t one of those rare moments. Even his alcohol-induced slumber didn’t last longer than a couple of hours, and he was already wide awake hours before dawn was breaking. He listened to the horses’ breathing, and the noises Maniac made in her sleep, hoof knocking on the wood-covered brick wall. Those sounds were familiar, soothing, and for the shortest of moments Dean felt like he could fall back asleep without having to drink a drop of alcohol, but he heard a loud screech that was everything but familiar and soothing. It sounded like it was made by the Hookman himself, and Dean shivered. Scrambling to his feet, he sniffed the air. There was something in it that made him antsy, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was.
Careful not to startle the horses, he snuck out of the stable. With a pitchfork in his hand he made a round around the building, and came back empty-handed. There was nothing going on. Why was he having the heebie-jeebies then? “Calm the frak down, Winchester, there’s nothing there,” he thought. A loud sigh left his lips, and he decided to spend the rest of the night in the house. Maybe he could catch a late-night rerun of Doctor Sexy. Or, he could watch Doctor Who on DVD and swoon a little over David Tennant. Once inside the house, he delighted in the welcoming warmth, and toeing off his boots, he padded into the kitchen to make coffee. While he waited for it to brew, he turned on the TV and plopped down onto the couch. Taking the remote into his hand he was about to change the channel, but when he saw what was on the screen, he cursed loudly. Without thinking, he called Chuck. The phone rang for almost a minute before he finally picked up.
“What the hell, Dean?” Chuck growled as a greeting.
“Alastair has escaped. The fucker who kidnapped Tyler has escaped. Did you know about this?” Dean gritted through his teeth.
“No. I didn’t. Holy mother of all.”
“You’d think the police would at least pony up and call me about it, seeing how I was the one he kept threatening to kill during his trial!”
“Dean, he doesn’t know where you live.” Chuck tried to be the voice of reason, but Dean wasn’t having any of that.
“I don’t give a flying fuck about what he knows or doesn’t know. But I’m sure as hell not going to sit on my ass and wait for him to come and
get me!” He yelled. There was some indistinct chatter on the other side, and after that it was Becky who spoke to him.
“Hey, Dean. I know you’re not happy about this, but what exactly are you planning on doing? You can’t go and hunt him down or something like that,” Becky’s voice was soft and calming. “If he’s smart, he won’t try to do anything anyway. But… I’m going to call Ruby, just for safety’s sake. I’m sure she will send someone over to watch out for Alastair.”
“I don’t need babysitting,” Dean hissed, but he felt his anger evaporating.
“Then don’t act like a brat throwing a hissy fit. Yeah, the situation is bad…”
“And that’s an understatement!”
“But freaking out won’t help the matter. Do you want to come over, and sleep here?” She asked. Dean had to admit that he was a little surprised at how calm and mature Becky acted, but it helped him to overcome his anxiety, and in that moment he was really grateful for that.
“No, thank you,” he sighed.
“Okay then. I will hang up now, and call Ruby. I’ll let you know what she says, okay?”
“Yep,” Dean nodded, and he ended the call. He felt a little calmer now, but his instincts were still screaming like crazy. He walked back into the kitchen, and prepared his coffee. With the mug in his hand he settled down on the couch, and started playing the DVD he had in his player. He was only halfway through the movie when he smelled smoke. Alarmed, he walked around the house to check if there was something burning, but he didn’t find anything, even though the smell of smoke was getting heavier. After some thinking, he grabbed his shotgun, and went outside to check. That was when he heard the horses’ panicked whickering, and his heart dropped in fear. He set off towards the stable. There were burning hay bales all around the building, and as Dean got closer, he smelled gasoline. He was so focused on the burning stable that at first he didn’t notice Alastair sneaking up on him from behind, and by the time he did, it was too late. He felt the tip of a blade between his vertebrae, the shotgun was taken from him, and he froze to the spot.
“I would love to slit your spinal cord right here and right now, but then I’d have to carry you, and that wouldn’t be good, now would it?” Alastair sounded like he was cooing a baby, his breath hot against Dean’s nape, the stench of his body sickening. “Start walking. Any moves I don’t approve of, and I may do it anyway. Believe me, I’m a master at things like this. You’d be crippled before you could scream ‘no’,” he threatened, and Dean couldn’t do anything but obey. He was steered towards the stable. The door of it was wide open, and before Dean knew it, he was shoved inside, with the door slammed shut behind him. There weren’t any flames inside - yet, but Dean knew the relief was temporary. The air was thick with smoke, and the horses were in terror, whickering loudly. Dean tried to kick the door down, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, and he kicked the door once more, just for good measure. He looked around, trying to find something useful. Then he remembered that he still had his cell phone on him, and he called the police. The dispatcher tried her best to keep Dean as calm as possible until the units’ arrival, but when the first flame broke through the wall of an empty stall circa three minutes after Dean was pushed inside the burning building, all pleas to stay calm fell on deaf ears.
“Fuck this shit, I’m not just going to sit around here and wait till I’m roasted like a pig!” Dean announced suddenly, and disconnected. His cell began ringing almost immediately, but he ignored it. Not caring about possibly being trampled to death by panicked equines, he went to open the stalls, allowing the horses to get a little farther away from the flames. Suddenly, he had an idea. He gathered all the fire extinguishers, along with the thick blankets stored in the stable to keep the horses warm in case of an eventual heating problem. The horses were running around in circles, except Devil’s Advocate. He just stood there, looking at Dean with sad eyes.
“Hey, Date. Come here, baby,” Dean clicked his tongue, trying to lure the horse closer. He knew Date was smarter than most horses, and suspected that he was smarter than some humans. Nudging the other horses out of his way, Date walked up to Dean. “Help me, sweetheart, please,” Dean begged, and he kicked the back door repeatedly while looking straight into Date’s eyes, trying to explain his plan to him. When another flame broke through the wall, Mirage reared up, knocking a stall door open with his front hooves in the process. Apparently that was all Devil’s Advocate needed to add two and two together in his pretty head, and get four as the result. He copied Mirage’s movement, and standing on his hind legs, he kicked the door with the front ones. “That’s it, gorgeous, that’s it,” Dean said, and he smiled when Crystal began helping. The smoke was suffocating, and Dean doubled over in a coughing fit. He pulled up the neck of his t-shirt to cover his face, and he began wetting the blankets in a water trough.
After what seemed like eternity, he managed to get all twenty of them soaking. Quickly he threw them onto the horses’ backs, one by one, covering as much of them as he could. The door was squeaking louder and louder. When Dean was sure that it wouldn’t need more than one kick, he covered Crystal too, and climbed onto Date’s back, using the last two blankets to cover themselves. He made the horse back up a little, so they could gain some momentum. “Now or never,” Dean whispered, and he nudged Date into gear. The horse’s full weight crashed against the door, and it opened, but behind it there was a wall of fire that they had to jump over. The heat was scorching, and Dean was sure they were all going to die. He hugged Date’s neck tightly. “Cas, you can’t imagine how much I wish I could see you again!” he thought as they flew over the flames. Date yelped in pain when one of the flames bit into his left hind leg, and his tail caught fire too. After they landed on the ground in a safe distance from the burning building, Date didn’t stop. He ran towards the garden pond, and jumped into it. It wasn’t deep, but there was just enough water to kill the flames that were feeding on his tail. The landing in the pond wasn’t exactly gentle. The momentum knocked Dean off of Date’s back, he hit his head on a rock, and after that all he saw was darkness.
“Dean. Hey, Dean. Wake up. Come on, baby, wake up,” Dean felt cold hands against his face, and he heard the voice too, but… it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Castiel. Except, it was definitely his voice, and the touch on his face seemed really familiar too. Groaning, Dean cracked his eyes open, and the first thing he saw was a pair of bright blue eyes.
“Cas,” he moaned, and his gaze flitted down onto Castiel’s full, pink lips to watch as a dazzling smile spread out on them. “Did I… am I dead?” Dean breathed out, and he tried to sit up.
“No, you’re not dead. But you hit your head pretty badly, so I wouldn’t try to move if I were you.” Castiel said, and he tried to push Dean back onto the ground. Dean’s head was indeed throbbing with intense pain, but it wasn’t enough to keep him away from Castiel a second longer. He surged forward, and he claimed his lover’s lips in a passionate kiss. It was like every cell in Dean’s body was very much alive, and singing with joy. Dean buried his hands into Castiel’s thick, dark hair, and the touch of the silky locks against his skin felt like coming home.
Suddenly, Dean remembered what happened, and he looked around worriedly, trying to take in his surroundings, only to find that he was sitting in the edge of the garden pond on the estate, and that time seemed to be frozen around them. Nothing was moving. It was weird, but Dean only shrugged, and went back to kissing Castiel within an inch of his life. When they parted, somebody plopped down onto the ground next to them.
“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a cheery male voice said, and Dean turned around to look at the owner of it. The man was faintly familiar, longish brown hair framing his face, warm hazel eyes alight with mischief, but Dean had no idea where he knew him from. “Let me tell you, I am a little disappointed. I was sure you’d figure it out sooner or later, but that it would take months and a case of arson for it to happen…” The man continued, shaking his head.
“What are you talking about, and who are you?” Dean asked nervously, looking at the man like he had two heads.
“Come on, you can’t be that stupid. I’m a Trickster, but you can call me Loki.”
“Loki,” Dean echoed. “Like… the demigod?”
“Exactly like the demigod. Or, more like exactly THE demigod.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Dean turned towards Castiel.
“Yes, I do. Let him finish,” Castiel said, and he pulled his lover closer.
“Thank you, Castiel,” Loki nodded, and continued, fixing his stare on Dean. “By any chance, do you remember saving a mouse, who then told you to be careful what you wish for, because it may come true?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Generally yes, but… not in the sense you’re thinking of. I’m not familiar at all?”
“I may have seen you before, but… For God’s sake, just stop playing with me, I’m so not in the mood for this,” Dean growled angrily, hands balled into fists by his sides.
“Okay, okay, no need to yell, big boy. A few years ago I stepped onto quite a few toes that I wasn’t supposed to, and...” He started explaining, but Dean interrupted him.
“And now he begins the story with Adam and Eve, just great,” he said, rolling his eyes, but Castiel silenced him.
“Like I’ve been meaning to tell this like an hour ago, I screwed with people I shouldn’t have, yadda yadda yadda… And now I’m the one that’s screwed; only it’s permanent. I’m bound. I can’t interfere with people’s lives like I used to. I can only use my powers for good, only for people who did something good to me, and even then only when I am explicitly asked to. While it’s not the most ideal situation, even doing good with my powers is better than doing nothing with them, so I tend to run around as a mouse, hoping someone would save me, thus doing something good for me. Possibly before a cat got me, because believe me, being eaten alive by a cat is everything but fun.”
“So, what you’re trying to say is that I saved you from a cat when you were a mouse, and now you helped me because I wished I could see
Cas again?”
“In a nutshell, yes,” Loki nodded.
“But that’s like nine flavors of crazy, with a little topping of insane.”
“Dean, look at me,” Castiel interjected quietly. When Dean did so, Castiel cupped his face between his hands, and kissed him. “I am here. I was dead, my body was badly damaged, I drowned, and now I’m here, next to you. And I’m permanent. I’m staying. Isn’t that enough?” He said softly, his breath tickling Dean’s spit-slick mouth.
“That’s more than enough. It’s everything,” Dean whispered, entwining his fingers with Castiel’s.
“Gods, you two are more disgusting than the sappiest romantic movie ever made.” Loki stuck out his tongue disgustedly.
“Oh, shut up.” Dean flipped him off, but then he realized that maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He was a little scared when he looked up at the demigod, but the Trickster didn’t look overly interested, much less hurt. Absentmindedly, he stared at the stable, the building still encased in unmoving flames.
“Because I happen to really like horses, I’ll help to get all of them out in one piece, if any of you asks me to. Also, because I am such a good person at heart, I’ll even leave my four-legged assistant Devil’s Advocate with you. Consider him a… reunion gift. But, that’s all. Don’t even try to bargain for more!”
“We wouldn’t dare to dream about bargaining for more,” Castiel said softly. “Loki, please help the horses get out in one piece, and leave Devil’s Advocate with us, even though I have no idea who or what that is. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, I guess,” the demigod shrugged.
“Wait, what are we going to tell the cops about Castiel?” Dean asked when he saw that Loki was ready to leave.
“Oh, for Odin’s sake, you want me to pre-chew the food for you?” He lifted his gaze towards the sky, opening his arms exasperatedly. “You are both clever boys, you can figure something out. Can I finally let go of the time before holding it back drains my freaking Duracells? Thank you!” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly everything was alive around them. Dean’s clothes were soaked, and he was shivering from the cold. He wished he could stay close to Castiel, and bask in his body heat for a little while longer, but the stable was still burning, even though Chuck and Becky were trying to put out the flames.
“Stay here. It’s better if they don’t see you yet,” Dean said to Castiel. He got up, grabbed a bucket and went to help with the fire. The firefighters arrived just a minute later, and soon the last flame was extinguished too. Suddenly, they heard a gunshot, and shortly after that Ruby appeared from somewhere behind the building, wiping the blood off of her split lip with the sleeve of her black hoodie. There was a bruise blossoming on her left cheek, and her hair seemed to be a little burnt, but other than that she seemed to be fine.
“Alastair is dead; I shot him in the face. He got off way too easy, the bastard. I didn’t want to kill him, but I had to,” she announced loudly, and sank to the ground. “That jerk tried to push me into the fire,” she said, running her hand through her hair. When she realized that she lost some hair to the flames, she cursed. “I’d kill that goddamned, shit-headed motherfucker for a second time if he wasn’t dead as a rotting doornail already.”
“She certainly has a mouth on her. I think, it if wasn’t for you, I would really like her,” Dean teased when he plopped down next to Castiel. Everyone was occupied with the smoking remains of the stable, like the firefighters, or was in shock because of the smoking remains of the stable, like Chuck and Becky, so no one had noticed Castiel yet. Dean had gathered the horses together, made sure that they were all okay, and only then did he go back to Castiel.
“Fortunately, I’m here. Lucky me,” Castiel sighed, petting Devil’s Advocate’s soft nose.
“Yeah.” Dean agreed, and he looked up at Date. “Hey, pretty boy. You saved my life, I hope you know that.” The horse looked back at him, and pulled his snout up into a grin.
“Is he a new one?” Castiel asked, nodding towards the horse.
“Yes. That’s Devil’s Advocate, Date for short, and he’s only been here since… since you had disappeared. I don’t really want to talk about this, but I do want to tell you one thing. If you ever, EVER pull a stunt like that on me again, I swear I’m going to kick your pretty ass.”
“I’m sorry, Dean, I really am, but I couldn’t let them take you. I just couldn’t.”
“And how do you think letting you go felt?” Dean yelled, and he felt tears prickling at his eyes. Angrily, he rubbed them with his fists, until Castiel stopped him, taking Dean’s hands into his.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel repeated, and when Dean looked into his bright blue eyes, his anger disappeared. Castiel was even more beautiful than ever, and Dean’s breath hitched at the sight. “I love you,” Castiel whispered, pulling his lover into a tight hug.
“I love you too.”
It wasn’t easy to come up with a believable story about Castiel’s return, but in the end they used the good old “temporary amnesia” card, and it worked. Or maybe everyone just happy to have him back, and didn’t care about reasons or circumstances…
Next chapter: Epilogue
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural AU/Romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Chuck/Becky, Sam/Sarah
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 46400
Warnings: some angst, mentions of violence, implied character death (disappearance)
Previous chapter: Chapter 11
Chapter twelve - A different kind of knight
Dean woke up to loud whickering, coming from much nearer than the stables.
“What on earth?” He muttered, trying to sit up. His head was pounding wildly, mouth dry as if someone had stuffed a cotton ball into it, and bitter like medicine. He was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn the day before. The bed was empty, no sheets in sight, only a tan trenchcoat wrapped halfway around his torso. Shucking the coat off of his shoulders, he walked to the window. Looking out, he almost fell on his back in surprise. There was a huge, beautiful Friesian horse on the lawn, with one of its front legs stretched out straight forward, the other bent at the knee, its head bowed down, almost touching the ground. “What on earth?” Dean repeated, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was sure that it was just a dream, or a hallucination. It had to be one of those, because trained, Friesian show horses were not exactly known for wandering around, and he would have known if Chuck had bought one. No matter how long he rubbed his eyes though, the horse was still there. The only difference was that it lifted its beautiful head while Dean wasn’t looking, and it was staring up at him from under the long locks of its mane.
Dean hurried down the stairs, and tiptoed past Sam, who was sleeping on the couch. When Dean stepped of the house, he found that the horse had moved again, and had come closer to the door, whinnying quietly. Careful not to startle it, Dean took a step towards it, and to his biggest surprise the horse did the same. Three more steps later the horse was close enough for Dean to touch, and before he could have reached out, the horse overtook the lead, nudging his shoulder with its nose.
“Hey there, sweetheart. You’re so gorgeous. Oh, you are really beautiful,” Dean cooed quietly, stroking the horse’s mane. He ran his hand over its neck, looking for any identification signs, but he didn’t find anything. He crouched down to check if the horse was male or female, and ascertained that it was a stallion. “Where are you from, huh?” he asked, expecting no answer, but suddenly the horse lifted his head, making Dean’s hand slide a little lower on his neck, and there was something small under his skin. “You have a microchip? Great, let’s see who you belong to.” Dean started walking towards the stable to get the chip scanner, and without being prompted, the horse followed him. Once Dean found the scanner, it didn’t take long to check the number on the chip and search for it in the database. It turned out that his name was Devil’s Advocate and that he came from a very prominent bloodline, but there was no information about his owner. “That’s weird,” Dean muttered.
All of a sudden, Devil’s Advocate made a loud, yelp-like sound, and Dean saw Emmaline’s head sticking out from her box, bared teeth still dangerously close to the Friesian’s rear end. It was obvious what had happened, and suddenly Dean saw red. “What the hell did you do, you stupid bitch? Biting is not allowed in this godforsaken stable, damn it!” He yelled at the mare, pushing her head back inside, and without thinking he slammed the upper half of the door closed too. That was something he had never done before, and Becky, who had witnessed the whole scene, was almost shaking in fear. She could feel the anger coming off of Dean in waves, and it was crippling her. For a moment she was afraid Dean would notice her rooted to the spot on the threshold, and maybe take a swing at her, but it didn’t happen. Dean sank to the ground, back against the wall of Emmaline’s stall. Devil’s Advocate nudged him gently, taking a step closer to Dean, and when the man reached out to stroke the horse’s neck, he took another step, and let Dean bury his face into his thick, pitch-black mane. Becky could see from the shaking of his shoulders that he was crying, and she turned around to leave him alone. Silently closing the entrance gate behind her, she leaned against it. The current situation wasn’t easy on her either, but she couldn’t even imagine how bad it must be for Dean. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Chuck sneaking up on her, and she cried out when he circled his arms around her from behind.
“You scared the ever-living crap out of me!” She turned to face Chuck, and plunged her pointer finger into his chest.
“Sorry. How’s Dean? Did you find him?”
“He’s in the stable. Apparently he’s got a new horse, or something. I didn’t talk to him, but he’s not okay. He yelled at Emmaline. I have never seen him so angry at a horse before. Or in general, for that matter. He was kinda scary,” she admitted quietly.
“Let’s just hope that Sam is right, and Dean will get through it without any lasting aftereffects.”
The arrival of Devil’s Advocate was a welcomed distraction, but it was also only temporary. For a while, it was enough to take Dean’s mind off of Castiel’s disappearance, but the wonder of it wore off quickly, and soon the painful tug of worry and sadness was back. Trying to fight it took all of Dean’s strength, but eventually he lost the fight. He spent the better part of the day with tearing up the neighborhood, looking for any sign of Castiel. The bay where the accident happened was still busy, search parties, bay guards and the occasional police officers trying to scour up new pieces of evidence… or a dead body. The latter was something Dean didn’t want to think about, even though he knew that Castiel was probably dead. For hours he walked, looking everywhere for his lover. The only thing resulting from that was his growing frustration, and sometime early in the afternoon, he reached the point where he just couldn’t stop the tears of anger and pain.
After he arrived back at the Shurley estate both mentally and physically exhausted, he spent a few hours trying to track down anyone who could know anything about a lost Friesian. He called every horse ranch, circus and horse show in a sixty miles radius, but it seemed like Devil’s Advocate didn’t even exist. Dean posted entries on several online forums about horses, hoping to hear from the horse’s owner soon, but until that happened, he decided to handle the horse as if it was one of their own. Becky squealed with delight when she saw the horse, nicknaming him Date immediately after Dean told her his name. Dean found the nickname stupid at first, but Becky repeated it so many times while she helped Dean scrubbing the horse down, that it stuck.
Later that day Dean took Devil’s Advocate out for a ride. Despite his size, Date was amazingly graceful, his steps light, almost as if he was dancing. He was also incredibly good at following both vocal and touch-transmitted instructions, reacting quickly and effectively to all of them. Dean didn’t know how used to running Date was, so he made it easy on him, but when they heard something that sounded like a young girl’s scream, Date shot off at break-neck speed towards the source of it without being prompted to.
The sound indeed came from a little girl. She was struggling to get away from a masked man, who tried to drag her to his minivan. Dean didn’t even really have the time to analyze the situation they rode right into the middle of, before the man pulled out a knife, holding it to the child’s throat.
“Come any closer, and I will slit her throat,” the man said, flashing a creepily child-like smile at Dean through the hole of his mask over his mouth. The smile turned into an ugly sneer when Dean slid down from Date’s back. Dean was anything but calm, but he took a step closer to the man. Even though he had never heard that raspy voice before, he was sure he knew him. It was the same man Tyler was talking about, and for the second time that day, Dean saw red, but for a very different reason this time.
“You son of a bitch!” he hissed, and took another step. The man pressed the blade closer to the girl’s throat, and she stopped struggling.
“Look at that. What do you think you are, the white knight in shining armor?” He asked with a weird cadence, completely focused on Dean, not paying a second of attention to the horse silently inching its way closer to him.
“Nope, but I’m the one with a smart horse!” Dean yelled right in the moment Date’s front right hoof hit the man’s right elbow with a sickening crunch. He dropped the knife and the girl too. Screaming, she ran to hide behind Dean. The man was writhing on the ground, clutching his obviously broken arm tightly against his chest.
“What’s your name?” Dean crouched down to the level of the small girl.
“Gloria,” she answered, lips trembling, her huge brown eyes filled with tears.
“Okay, Gloria. Have you ever sat on a horse?”
“No.” She shook her head, sending her brown pigtails flying.
“Now you will,” Dean said, picking her up and put her onto Date’s back. “Hold on tight!” He instructed her, and walked up to the man who was still lying on the ground, deadly still by now. Just for safety’s sake, Dean kicked the knife even farther away, even though the man was unconscious. While dialing the police and then talking to the dispatcher, Dean pulled off the man’s mask. The sneer seemed to be permanently frozen onto his face, but other than that, he looked like a normal, ordinary guy, nothing special or creepy about him. Except his bloodshot eyes, which popped open when Dean bent closer, and the man grabbed his neck. Gloria screamed again, hugging Date’s neck tightly.
Dean struggled against the stranglehold, but it didn’t seem to be much help. His vision was swimming, dark spots blacking out half of the world, but Dean landed a kick into the man’s groin, and he was released immediately. Using the momentary weakness of the man, Dean found a rock, and hit the man’s head with it. This time he knew better than going any closer, but the man didn’t move. Soon the police arrived. Not surprisingly, they knew who he was when they saw him. They didn’t know his name, but there was a warrant on him under the pseudonym Alastair, for multiple kidnappings and even murders. It only occurred to Dean later, how lucky Tyler was that she wasn’t killed. Dean gave his statement, and then the officers left, with Alastair handcuffed to the backseat.
An ambulance came to check up on Gloria, and soon after that her parents arrived too. It turned out that she was supposed to be on a field trip with her class on the Harvelle Estate, but she ran off when no one noticed. Her mother scolded her, but she was too happy to be really angry. Tears were streaming from her eyes when she thanked Dean, and Gloria’s father seemed to be close to tears too. When no one was looking, Dean climbed onto Date’s back, and they trotted home.
~.~.~.~.~.~“They say time heals all wounds. That’s bullshit. You only get used to the pain,” Dean explained, lying on his back on the hay-covered ground, nursing a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. Devil’s Advocate looked at him with his huge, dark chocolate eyes, almost human-like understanding shining from them. He moved to nudge Dean, then nuzzled his face, and Dean reached out to caress the horse’s soft nose, only to find that he couldn’t quite control his limbs. He let his hand fall, and continued talking. “I’ve been looking for him for hours every day, like a mad man. Maybe I’m really mad. It’s been months now without Cas. Fucking months without him, and it’s not a damn bit easier. That sucks,” he hiccupped, “You know, maybe we’d even be married by now. He was always good at bringing out the chick-flicky side of me. He just looked at me with those big baby blues, and most of my common sense went poof.” Dean let out a humorless chuckle, and turned onto his side, curling up into a ball. Date just stood there, facing Dean, his hot breath fanning over the man’s face as breathing evened out slowly. Only after he fell asleep did Date close his eyes too.
Long and peaceful sleep was something that hardly ever came to Dean in those days, and that particular night wasn’t one of those rare moments. Even his alcohol-induced slumber didn’t last longer than a couple of hours, and he was already wide awake hours before dawn was breaking. He listened to the horses’ breathing, and the noises Maniac made in her sleep, hoof knocking on the wood-covered brick wall. Those sounds were familiar, soothing, and for the shortest of moments Dean felt like he could fall back asleep without having to drink a drop of alcohol, but he heard a loud screech that was everything but familiar and soothing. It sounded like it was made by the Hookman himself, and Dean shivered. Scrambling to his feet, he sniffed the air. There was something in it that made him antsy, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was.
Careful not to startle the horses, he snuck out of the stable. With a pitchfork in his hand he made a round around the building, and came back empty-handed. There was nothing going on. Why was he having the heebie-jeebies then? “Calm the frak down, Winchester, there’s nothing there,” he thought. A loud sigh left his lips, and he decided to spend the rest of the night in the house. Maybe he could catch a late-night rerun of Doctor Sexy. Or, he could watch Doctor Who on DVD and swoon a little over David Tennant. Once inside the house, he delighted in the welcoming warmth, and toeing off his boots, he padded into the kitchen to make coffee. While he waited for it to brew, he turned on the TV and plopped down onto the couch. Taking the remote into his hand he was about to change the channel, but when he saw what was on the screen, he cursed loudly. Without thinking, he called Chuck. The phone rang for almost a minute before he finally picked up.
“What the hell, Dean?” Chuck growled as a greeting.
“Alastair has escaped. The fucker who kidnapped Tyler has escaped. Did you know about this?” Dean gritted through his teeth.
“No. I didn’t. Holy mother of all.”
“You’d think the police would at least pony up and call me about it, seeing how I was the one he kept threatening to kill during his trial!”
“Dean, he doesn’t know where you live.” Chuck tried to be the voice of reason, but Dean wasn’t having any of that.
“I don’t give a flying fuck about what he knows or doesn’t know. But I’m sure as hell not going to sit on my ass and wait for him to come and
get me!” He yelled. There was some indistinct chatter on the other side, and after that it was Becky who spoke to him.
“Hey, Dean. I know you’re not happy about this, but what exactly are you planning on doing? You can’t go and hunt him down or something like that,” Becky’s voice was soft and calming. “If he’s smart, he won’t try to do anything anyway. But… I’m going to call Ruby, just for safety’s sake. I’m sure she will send someone over to watch out for Alastair.”
“I don’t need babysitting,” Dean hissed, but he felt his anger evaporating.
“Then don’t act like a brat throwing a hissy fit. Yeah, the situation is bad…”
“And that’s an understatement!”
“But freaking out won’t help the matter. Do you want to come over, and sleep here?” She asked. Dean had to admit that he was a little surprised at how calm and mature Becky acted, but it helped him to overcome his anxiety, and in that moment he was really grateful for that.
“No, thank you,” he sighed.
“Okay then. I will hang up now, and call Ruby. I’ll let you know what she says, okay?”
“Yep,” Dean nodded, and he ended the call. He felt a little calmer now, but his instincts were still screaming like crazy. He walked back into the kitchen, and prepared his coffee. With the mug in his hand he settled down on the couch, and started playing the DVD he had in his player. He was only halfway through the movie when he smelled smoke. Alarmed, he walked around the house to check if there was something burning, but he didn’t find anything, even though the smell of smoke was getting heavier. After some thinking, he grabbed his shotgun, and went outside to check. That was when he heard the horses’ panicked whickering, and his heart dropped in fear. He set off towards the stable. There were burning hay bales all around the building, and as Dean got closer, he smelled gasoline. He was so focused on the burning stable that at first he didn’t notice Alastair sneaking up on him from behind, and by the time he did, it was too late. He felt the tip of a blade between his vertebrae, the shotgun was taken from him, and he froze to the spot.
“I would love to slit your spinal cord right here and right now, but then I’d have to carry you, and that wouldn’t be good, now would it?” Alastair sounded like he was cooing a baby, his breath hot against Dean’s nape, the stench of his body sickening. “Start walking. Any moves I don’t approve of, and I may do it anyway. Believe me, I’m a master at things like this. You’d be crippled before you could scream ‘no’,” he threatened, and Dean couldn’t do anything but obey. He was steered towards the stable. The door of it was wide open, and before Dean knew it, he was shoved inside, with the door slammed shut behind him. There weren’t any flames inside - yet, but Dean knew the relief was temporary. The air was thick with smoke, and the horses were in terror, whickering loudly. Dean tried to kick the door down, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, and he kicked the door once more, just for good measure. He looked around, trying to find something useful. Then he remembered that he still had his cell phone on him, and he called the police. The dispatcher tried her best to keep Dean as calm as possible until the units’ arrival, but when the first flame broke through the wall of an empty stall circa three minutes after Dean was pushed inside the burning building, all pleas to stay calm fell on deaf ears.
“Fuck this shit, I’m not just going to sit around here and wait till I’m roasted like a pig!” Dean announced suddenly, and disconnected. His cell began ringing almost immediately, but he ignored it. Not caring about possibly being trampled to death by panicked equines, he went to open the stalls, allowing the horses to get a little farther away from the flames. Suddenly, he had an idea. He gathered all the fire extinguishers, along with the thick blankets stored in the stable to keep the horses warm in case of an eventual heating problem. The horses were running around in circles, except Devil’s Advocate. He just stood there, looking at Dean with sad eyes.
“Hey, Date. Come here, baby,” Dean clicked his tongue, trying to lure the horse closer. He knew Date was smarter than most horses, and suspected that he was smarter than some humans. Nudging the other horses out of his way, Date walked up to Dean. “Help me, sweetheart, please,” Dean begged, and he kicked the back door repeatedly while looking straight into Date’s eyes, trying to explain his plan to him. When another flame broke through the wall, Mirage reared up, knocking a stall door open with his front hooves in the process. Apparently that was all Devil’s Advocate needed to add two and two together in his pretty head, and get four as the result. He copied Mirage’s movement, and standing on his hind legs, he kicked the door with the front ones. “That’s it, gorgeous, that’s it,” Dean said, and he smiled when Crystal began helping. The smoke was suffocating, and Dean doubled over in a coughing fit. He pulled up the neck of his t-shirt to cover his face, and he began wetting the blankets in a water trough.
After what seemed like eternity, he managed to get all twenty of them soaking. Quickly he threw them onto the horses’ backs, one by one, covering as much of them as he could. The door was squeaking louder and louder. When Dean was sure that it wouldn’t need more than one kick, he covered Crystal too, and climbed onto Date’s back, using the last two blankets to cover themselves. He made the horse back up a little, so they could gain some momentum. “Now or never,” Dean whispered, and he nudged Date into gear. The horse’s full weight crashed against the door, and it opened, but behind it there was a wall of fire that they had to jump over. The heat was scorching, and Dean was sure they were all going to die. He hugged Date’s neck tightly. “Cas, you can’t imagine how much I wish I could see you again!” he thought as they flew over the flames. Date yelped in pain when one of the flames bit into his left hind leg, and his tail caught fire too. After they landed on the ground in a safe distance from the burning building, Date didn’t stop. He ran towards the garden pond, and jumped into it. It wasn’t deep, but there was just enough water to kill the flames that were feeding on his tail. The landing in the pond wasn’t exactly gentle. The momentum knocked Dean off of Date’s back, he hit his head on a rock, and after that all he saw was darkness.
“Dean. Hey, Dean. Wake up. Come on, baby, wake up,” Dean felt cold hands against his face, and he heard the voice too, but… it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Castiel. Except, it was definitely his voice, and the touch on his face seemed really familiar too. Groaning, Dean cracked his eyes open, and the first thing he saw was a pair of bright blue eyes.
“Cas,” he moaned, and his gaze flitted down onto Castiel’s full, pink lips to watch as a dazzling smile spread out on them. “Did I… am I dead?” Dean breathed out, and he tried to sit up.
“No, you’re not dead. But you hit your head pretty badly, so I wouldn’t try to move if I were you.” Castiel said, and he tried to push Dean back onto the ground. Dean’s head was indeed throbbing with intense pain, but it wasn’t enough to keep him away from Castiel a second longer. He surged forward, and he claimed his lover’s lips in a passionate kiss. It was like every cell in Dean’s body was very much alive, and singing with joy. Dean buried his hands into Castiel’s thick, dark hair, and the touch of the silky locks against his skin felt like coming home.
Suddenly, Dean remembered what happened, and he looked around worriedly, trying to take in his surroundings, only to find that he was sitting in the edge of the garden pond on the estate, and that time seemed to be frozen around them. Nothing was moving. It was weird, but Dean only shrugged, and went back to kissing Castiel within an inch of his life. When they parted, somebody plopped down onto the ground next to them.
“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a cheery male voice said, and Dean turned around to look at the owner of it. The man was faintly familiar, longish brown hair framing his face, warm hazel eyes alight with mischief, but Dean had no idea where he knew him from. “Let me tell you, I am a little disappointed. I was sure you’d figure it out sooner or later, but that it would take months and a case of arson for it to happen…” The man continued, shaking his head.
“What are you talking about, and who are you?” Dean asked nervously, looking at the man like he had two heads.
“Come on, you can’t be that stupid. I’m a Trickster, but you can call me Loki.”
“Loki,” Dean echoed. “Like… the demigod?”
“Exactly like the demigod. Or, more like exactly THE demigod.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Dean turned towards Castiel.
“Yes, I do. Let him finish,” Castiel said, and he pulled his lover closer.
“Thank you, Castiel,” Loki nodded, and continued, fixing his stare on Dean. “By any chance, do you remember saving a mouse, who then told you to be careful what you wish for, because it may come true?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Generally yes, but… not in the sense you’re thinking of. I’m not familiar at all?”
“I may have seen you before, but… For God’s sake, just stop playing with me, I’m so not in the mood for this,” Dean growled angrily, hands balled into fists by his sides.
“Okay, okay, no need to yell, big boy. A few years ago I stepped onto quite a few toes that I wasn’t supposed to, and...” He started explaining, but Dean interrupted him.
“And now he begins the story with Adam and Eve, just great,” he said, rolling his eyes, but Castiel silenced him.
“Like I’ve been meaning to tell this like an hour ago, I screwed with people I shouldn’t have, yadda yadda yadda… And now I’m the one that’s screwed; only it’s permanent. I’m bound. I can’t interfere with people’s lives like I used to. I can only use my powers for good, only for people who did something good to me, and even then only when I am explicitly asked to. While it’s not the most ideal situation, even doing good with my powers is better than doing nothing with them, so I tend to run around as a mouse, hoping someone would save me, thus doing something good for me. Possibly before a cat got me, because believe me, being eaten alive by a cat is everything but fun.”
“So, what you’re trying to say is that I saved you from a cat when you were a mouse, and now you helped me because I wished I could see
Cas again?”
“In a nutshell, yes,” Loki nodded.
“But that’s like nine flavors of crazy, with a little topping of insane.”
“Dean, look at me,” Castiel interjected quietly. When Dean did so, Castiel cupped his face between his hands, and kissed him. “I am here. I was dead, my body was badly damaged, I drowned, and now I’m here, next to you. And I’m permanent. I’m staying. Isn’t that enough?” He said softly, his breath tickling Dean’s spit-slick mouth.
“That’s more than enough. It’s everything,” Dean whispered, entwining his fingers with Castiel’s.
“Gods, you two are more disgusting than the sappiest romantic movie ever made.” Loki stuck out his tongue disgustedly.
“Oh, shut up.” Dean flipped him off, but then he realized that maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He was a little scared when he looked up at the demigod, but the Trickster didn’t look overly interested, much less hurt. Absentmindedly, he stared at the stable, the building still encased in unmoving flames.
“Because I happen to really like horses, I’ll help to get all of them out in one piece, if any of you asks me to. Also, because I am such a good person at heart, I’ll even leave my four-legged assistant Devil’s Advocate with you. Consider him a… reunion gift. But, that’s all. Don’t even try to bargain for more!”
“We wouldn’t dare to dream about bargaining for more,” Castiel said softly. “Loki, please help the horses get out in one piece, and leave Devil’s Advocate with us, even though I have no idea who or what that is. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, I guess,” the demigod shrugged.
“Wait, what are we going to tell the cops about Castiel?” Dean asked when he saw that Loki was ready to leave.
“Oh, for Odin’s sake, you want me to pre-chew the food for you?” He lifted his gaze towards the sky, opening his arms exasperatedly. “You are both clever boys, you can figure something out. Can I finally let go of the time before holding it back drains my freaking Duracells? Thank you!” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly everything was alive around them. Dean’s clothes were soaked, and he was shivering from the cold. He wished he could stay close to Castiel, and bask in his body heat for a little while longer, but the stable was still burning, even though Chuck and Becky were trying to put out the flames.
“Stay here. It’s better if they don’t see you yet,” Dean said to Castiel. He got up, grabbed a bucket and went to help with the fire. The firefighters arrived just a minute later, and soon the last flame was extinguished too. Suddenly, they heard a gunshot, and shortly after that Ruby appeared from somewhere behind the building, wiping the blood off of her split lip with the sleeve of her black hoodie. There was a bruise blossoming on her left cheek, and her hair seemed to be a little burnt, but other than that she seemed to be fine.
“Alastair is dead; I shot him in the face. He got off way too easy, the bastard. I didn’t want to kill him, but I had to,” she announced loudly, and sank to the ground. “That jerk tried to push me into the fire,” she said, running her hand through her hair. When she realized that she lost some hair to the flames, she cursed. “I’d kill that goddamned, shit-headed motherfucker for a second time if he wasn’t dead as a rotting doornail already.”
“She certainly has a mouth on her. I think, it if wasn’t for you, I would really like her,” Dean teased when he plopped down next to Castiel. Everyone was occupied with the smoking remains of the stable, like the firefighters, or was in shock because of the smoking remains of the stable, like Chuck and Becky, so no one had noticed Castiel yet. Dean had gathered the horses together, made sure that they were all okay, and only then did he go back to Castiel.
“Fortunately, I’m here. Lucky me,” Castiel sighed, petting Devil’s Advocate’s soft nose.
“Yeah.” Dean agreed, and he looked up at Date. “Hey, pretty boy. You saved my life, I hope you know that.” The horse looked back at him, and pulled his snout up into a grin.
“Is he a new one?” Castiel asked, nodding towards the horse.
“Yes. That’s Devil’s Advocate, Date for short, and he’s only been here since… since you had disappeared. I don’t really want to talk about this, but I do want to tell you one thing. If you ever, EVER pull a stunt like that on me again, I swear I’m going to kick your pretty ass.”
“I’m sorry, Dean, I really am, but I couldn’t let them take you. I just couldn’t.”
“And how do you think letting you go felt?” Dean yelled, and he felt tears prickling at his eyes. Angrily, he rubbed them with his fists, until Castiel stopped him, taking Dean’s hands into his.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel repeated, and when Dean looked into his bright blue eyes, his anger disappeared. Castiel was even more beautiful than ever, and Dean’s breath hitched at the sight. “I love you,” Castiel whispered, pulling his lover into a tight hug.
“I love you too.”
It wasn’t easy to come up with a believable story about Castiel’s return, but in the end they used the good old “temporary amnesia” card, and it worked. Or maybe everyone just happy to have him back, and didn’t care about reasons or circumstances…
Next chapter: Epilogue