SPN: The Brothers Grimm - Chapter 3
Title:The Brothers Grimm
Beta: skylar_matthews
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, Brothers Grimm verse, Fusion, adventure, horror
Pairings: Dean/Cas, mentions of Dean/Cassie, suggested Dean/Lisa
Spoilers: Some for The Brothers Grimm
Warnings: some sexual situations, violence, abuse of the French language, lots of UST
Word Count: 26 000 (in total)
Summary: Under the new French occupation, Dean and Sam Grimm have made a living conning people into believing that fairytales and monsters are real. But when they stumble upon the village of Marbaden, everything that they thought they knew gets turned upside down and instead of creating fairytales, they find themselves living in one.
A/N: Written as part of the dc-everafter Challenge. This is loosely based on the film The Brothers Grimm starring Matt Damon and Heath Ledger. Some significant changes have been made compared to the film but there will still be plot spoilers for those who have yet to watch The Brothers Grimm.
Special thanks to my lovely beta reader, skylar_matthews, and to talli_approved for creating the challenge. This was an awesome excuse to fuse the SPN universe with one of my favorite films and I had a great time writing this! Lastly, I want to thank h4ppy-fun-b4ll for creating beautiful artwork to accompany my fic. It was fun working with you, darling! <3
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue | Art Masterpost
The light from the lantern bounced off the shadows, casting a pale glow over the path in front of them. The night had fallen thick upon the forest, the moon and stars unable to penetrate the dense canopy of treetops. Without the aid of the lantern, Christian would be unable to see even his hands in front of his face.
“…are we getting close?” a tiny voice asked behind him.
Christian jumped as his sister’s voice cut through the eerie silence of the forest. Although he could feel her presence close behind him, the unsettling stillness of the forest had been distracting his thoughts and he was starting to regret his decision to come out here.
He stopped and turned to exchange a look with his nine year old sister, the glow of the lantern just barely outlining her face. “I can’t be sure, Gwen. It may still be a ways off.”
Gwen’s lips trembled and he could see unshed tears welling in her eyes. “I’m scared, Christian.”
Christian wasn’t just scared; he was terrified. But as Gwen’s older brother, he knew he had to stay strong for her. With a sympathetic smile, he stepped forward and wrapped his free arm over her small shoulders. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Gwen sniffled and pulled her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Although Christian was only 11 years old, he was a bit tall for his age and loomed a good 6 inches over his little sister. “…what if we get lost?”
Christian pulled back to look into his sister’s big, brown eyes and ruffled her hair affectionately. “We won’t get lost, silly. If we do, we can follow your bread trail home.”
For emphasis, he reached out his arm to illuminate the last small chunk of bread crumbs Gwen had dropped on the path behind them. She still had most of the loaf tucked away in her satchel.
“See? Nothing to worry about. Now, come on. We should keep going.”
Reluctantly, Gwen nodded and fell in step behind her brother. The slipped into another silence, unbroken by the absence of animals in a forest that should have had at least owls hooting or small rodents scurrying about. But after a few minutes, Gwen spoke up again.
“…are we doing the right thing, Christian?”
It was something Christian had wondered himself since they had set out. The reason he had suggested they run away had been about all about Gwen: to protect her. At home, while their father worked in the fields and Christian assisted him, their father’s new wife often took out her abuse on Gwen: beating her, making her go most of the day without food, even once locking her in the storage cellar for hours. And on the weekends when their father would travel to the nearest town to sell their produce, Christian would also be left home alone to experience their step mother’s abusive hand.
When Christian had tried telling their father, their father had gotten angry and accused his children of making up lies about their new mother. He had only himself ever raised his hand against his children a few times in their lives but each time a new bruise appeared on Christian or Gwen’s skin, he took the word of his wife that it was deserved.
“I don’t want her hurting you any more, Gwen,” Christian declared, finality in his voice. Or so help him, he would do something regretful if she ever touched his sister again.
He felt Gwen grasp his free hand and give it a squeeze. Like any typical boy his age, he felt embarrassment at showing any affection to his family members. But away from the prying eyes of their neighbors and tucked into the terrifying depths of the forest, he squeezed back: whether out of affection or his own fear, he couldn’t be sure.
As they continued to walk deeper into the forest, they failed to notice the black crow that had been following them for some time now. Crouched within the thick shadows, it hobbled along and gulped down every piece of bread that Gwen tossed behind her.
*
Sam exited the small hut and sighed, journal clutched in his left hand.
“Well?” Dean asked, stroking Impala’s neck as she finished the carrot he had been feeding her. She whinnied softly and nuzzled Dean’s shoulder.
“Same thing as the Gaertner kid: last the parents saw Gwen and Christian, they had been putting them to bed. There’s no indication of forcible entry. It’s like they vanished into thin air.”
“So Cas’ ‘big, bad wolf’ theory ain’t adding up?” Dean responded sarcastically.
“I dunno, Dean. Kids don’t just disappear into thin air. Maybe there is something not quite normal going on here.”
Sam walked over to Ruby and untied her reins.
“Oh, come off it, Sam,” Dean snapped, tugging Impala along. “You’ve known since you were eight that it’s all just make belief.”
The remark dredged up a painful memory that Dean pushed as far back into his head as possible. The silence that he was met with made Dean feel slightly guilty and he didn’t have to look at his brother to know Sam was thinking the same thing.
After a moment, Sam said, “…a loaf of bread was missing from their pantry.”
Dean almost sighed in relief, glad Sam decided to not have one of their ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ moments. “So, what’re you thinking? Kids ran away?”
“The mother-Meg, she didn’t seem all that surprised when I suggested it,” Sam replied, shrugging. “Mr. Jäger’s pretty torn up about it, says they’d never do that, but it might be worth looking into.”
“Great. We’ve been promoted to wolf hunters and baby sitters,” Dean complained. “Anything else we should look for in the fucking forest? Maybe some leprechauns and a unicorn while we’re at it.”
“Dean-”
“Don’t even start, Sammy, I’m not in the mood.” It was a bleary mid-morning, the food in the village was lousy, and Dean should have been well on his way to Hamburg by now. Instead, Dean and Sam were walking down the path to see the crazy, anti-social, bloody-knife wielding huntsman with the social skills of a rock. “Killing a stupid wolf they think is eating their kids?-maybe doable. Finding two brats in a forest that size?-sure, if we get lucky. But our luck’s been shit since we left Karlstadt and leaving my fate to some psycho with creepy, blue eyes while we play ‘Forest Ranger’ in the woods ain’t my idea of a good time.”
“Wait,” Sam said, unable to hold back a chuckle. “So this-this isn’t about you being pissed over the job-”
“Job? We’d have to get paid for it to be a job,” Dean grumbled.
“-you just don’t want to be left alone with Castiel.”
The murderous look on Dean’s face only made Sam grin.
“He’s not that bad, Dean.”
“That bad? Dude, the guy’s so sketchy he makes medicine merchants look like honest folk.”
“I don’t get why you’re so bugged out by him,” Sam said. “You’ve only just met. Even he shouldn’t be making you this uncomfortable, unless-”
And Sam’s eyes lit up as if he suddenly stumbled upon the freaken Holy Grail. Dean knew that look. It was the same look Sam had given him last year when Dean had met this slave girl, Cassandra, and Dean had kept brushing it off as if she were nothing more than part of the staff of a wealthy land owner they had been assisting (his sawmill had been ‘haunted’). Truthfully, the short-lived affair had remained secret even from Sam, crossing cultural boundaries that Dean didn’t even want to think about, but in the days that followed, whenever Sam had tried bringing up her name in conversation, it was often accompanied with that look Dean was receiving now.
“No!” Dean said, a bit too loud and too quickly. He could already feel his blush and so, he resorted to acting indignant so his reaction could be mistaken for ire. “It’s not like that! He’s just this-socially retarded, weirdo and-Cas isn’t even-”
“I am not what, Dean?”
Dean jumped out of his skin as Castiel seemed to have magically appeared in the path in front of them (in truth, Dean had been so busy arguing with Sam that he hadn’t even been looking at the road, but it was easier to think Castiel was a creeper who pops out of nowhere than to admit to having weak situational awareness).
“Jesus, think you can warn us before you do that?” Dean bitched.
Castiel looked really confused. “My name is not Jesus. It is Ca-”
“Figure of speech, Cas.”
Again, Dean wasn’t far off with the socially retarded remark. Evidently, Castiel also didn’t speak German like a normal person.
As Castiel drew closer, Ruby and Impala began flipping out, pulling back and tugging at the reigns.
“Whoa, whoa, easy there, baby,” Dean said. He tried patting his horse but Impala was so spooked that she galloped a full step back, dragging Dean with her.
“Ouch, shit!”
Dean stumbled but stubbornly refused to let her loose.
Sam was having a similar issue with his horse.
“Shh, calm down, Ruby. It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Ruby was far less complying than Impala, already stepping back so far that she was dragging Sam back towards the village.
“What’s wrong with them?” Sam called out.
Dean turned suspiciously to Castiel, who watched the two brothers with a blank expression.
“It must be the forest,” Castiel responded, indicating to the woods behind them. “Not even the villagers go anywhere near the forest any more. We will have to continue without them.”
Great. Not only would he be trekking in the forest looking for god knows what but he also would have to do it without his baby. Dean couldn’t help but think that this was turning out to be a really shitty day.
*
After an hour of wandering into the woods, tripping into a stream, and having his masculinity questioned after he screamed upon seeing a rabbit (seriously, it had crazy, appearing-out-of-nowhere Castiel skills), Dean’s stomach was grumbling, his feet were soaked, and he had determined that this was, in fact, a really shitty day.
“Enchanted forest, my ass,” he mumbled to himself. The only thing remotely strange about the forest was the lack of animals. Then again, with Amazon King Castiel carrying a knife and axe and navigating these woods like he owned the place, Dean didn’t blame the animals for not sticking around. “Can’t we go back already? This is a waste of time.”
Sam and Castiel were deep in conversation, discussing something about the type of cedar trees that grow in this part of the woods. Dean did not regret interrupting what had to be the dullest, nerdiest conversation in the history of conversations.
Castiel suddenly stopped, bending down to examine some shrubs. Sam, who stood taller than everyone else, loomed over Castiel like a giant to get a look at what Castiel was pointing to. It seemed Dean’s complaints were well ignored.
“These shrubs have been trampled on recently,” Castiel said, crouching and moving a few steps forward, “as have these branches. Someone has been here.”
Castiel stood up and began walking slowly, seemingly following a trail only he could see. Sam watched with curiosity, listening intently as Castiel pointed out disturbed earth and broken shrubs, all signs of life that had been absent for the better part of their hike in the woods. Dean, however, noticed that as they kept moving, the woods seemed to get darker and more silent (if that were possible) and it made him feel uneasy.
“Guys…are the woods supposed to be this dark?”
With the sunlight unable to burst through the overhead canopy, it felt more like dusk than nearly noon. It was light enough that Dean could still make out Castiel and Sam in front of him, though now it seemed like the shadows were clinging to everything.
“We have entered into the deepest part of these woods,” Castiel replied, low voice carrying the barest hint of surprise. “Stay close and do not wander away from where I tell you to go, even if it is off the path. Do not touch anything; do not trust what you see.”
As ominous as the warning sounded, Dean only took half of it to heart. He had travelled on this roughly made path for the last hour and it didn’t diverge at any point. Chances are, if things got weird, he’d find his way back easily by going back the way he came.
To break the nervous, tension-filled silence, Sam decided to bear the responsibility as conversation starter, as he had been doing for most of the morning thus far, since Castiel and Dean decided that they had nothing to say to each other. “So why do the villagers say you’re cursed?”
Castiel’s eyes widened slightly, one of the only expressions Dean had ever seen him make, looking up from where he was crouched near a bush. “The villagers have not told you?”
“They may have forgotten to mention it while highlighting your great people skills and sense of humor.”
Sam glared at Dean.
“My family came to this village 10 years ago, after our home had been destroyed by the French,” Castiel said quietly, eyes focused on disturbance along the path. “The villagers have never been welcoming towards foreigners but took pity on my family and allowed us to build a cottage outside of the woods.”
“Where is your family from?” Sam interrupted, curiosity getting the better of him.
“A village outside of Kalisz.”
Dean was a bit surprised. While he had trouble pinpointing the origin of Castiel’s accent, he had taken the man to be a typical Norwegian or Scandinavian. Castiel’s pale skin, fine cheek bones, and deep blue eyes were common features Dean had seen of the few Nordics he met in the cities. Castiel’s tall, lanky frame also fit in the stereotype in Dean’s mind.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you were Polish,” Sam admitted, unknowingly on the same train of thought as his brother.
“There are few of us in these parts,” Castiel said. “It made it difficult to adjust when my family first arrived. I spoke less German than my father and brother but picked it up as I offered to assist villagers in woodcutting and in the fields.”
Castiel paused, examining the earth along the path. “But a little over a year after our arrival was when our bad luck began. My mother…passed on, shortly after Anna’s birth. My brother and father also fell ill to the disease but only Gabriel recovered.”
The brief lull in Castiel’s story indicated his discomfort. But Sam and Dean also knew a thing or two about losing parents and couldn’t help but feel sympathy, although Dean was more reluctant to admit it to himself as he was set on viewing Castiel as his nut-job tour guide.
“…so that was when they started calling your family ‘cursed’,” Sam said.
Castiel nodded. “It took some time after we-after my parents were buried, before they would speak to us again. Many had worried about catching the same sickness they thought we had brought with us from the East. Eventually, it was as if the incident were forgotten.”
“But then your brother died and now Anna’s gone,” Sam said, sighing. “And most of them think this has something to do with you.”
“They have not said it…aloud…but I have heard their whispering. I have never been on as good terms with them as Gabriel or Anna. They may not think I killed my family but they seem to believe that bad luck follows me and have reduced their interactions with me.”
The conversation stilted at this point before Sam could offer his sympathy to Castiel. Castiel pointed to a spot a few meters in front of them on the path but the forest had become so dense and dark at this point that Dean had to squint to make out the shape of a satchel strewn on the ground.
“Hey, what’s that?”
Dean jogged forward and bent down to pick it up.
“Dean, do not-”
But Castiel’s warning came too late. As Dean retrieved the satchel, the sound of old branches groaning filled the air around them. Sam turned around in surprise but when he squinted, all he could see were trees.
“…what was that?” he asked Castiel.
But Castiel was busy glaring at Dean. “I thought I had made myself clear: you were not, under any circumstances, to do anything unless I told you to.”
“Lighten up, Cas,” Dean shot back, rifling through the satchel. Castiel’s glare was borderline murderous, the most emotion either brother had seen on his face so far. Triumphantly, Dean pulled out half a loaf of bread. “I’m guessing the kids were here. Think they went off this way?”
Dean began walking up the path further, taking silent joy out of ignoring Castiel, when Sam said, “Uh…Dean? Cas?”
“Not now, Sammy: I think we’re about to find out what’s going on. Then we can get the fuck out of this place,” Dean replied, turning back to the path in front of them.
“That would be great and all, Dean,” Sam started, “you know, if we had a way of getting the fuck out of this place.”
“Huh?”
Dean stood beside Sam and gaped. Beside them, Castiel sighed irritably.
“What the-where the fuck did the path go?”
Where once there had been a path only a minute ago, there were now only trees. It was as if the path had never been there to begin with.
“Maybe….maybe we wandered off the path?” Dean offered, weakly.
“A reasonable explanation…if I had not been standing still, Dean,” Sam shot back.
“I told you not to touch that, Dean,” Cas said.
Dean glared. “What the fuck does me picking this up have to do with forest paths disappearing?”
“What should we do now?” Sam asked.
“We should get the hell out of this place,” Dean said.
“I agree with Dean,” Castiel said. He ignored Dean’s shocked look. It’s the only thing they’ve agreed on in the few times they’ve bothered to exchange words. “It is not safe out here. It may take a moment but I believe I can find the way back.”
But as Castiel said this, a distant light peaked out through the trees in the path in front of them.
“I think…I think the forest wants us to go that way,” Sam said.
Dean gave him a look as if he had lost his head.
Castiel, on the other hand, tensed up. “I…Sam, it may be best if we return to the village first.”
But Sam was already heading in the direction of the light, pushing past the brush that crowded the roughly made path.
“Sammy, come on!” Dean called out, chasing after his brother. Freaked out or not, there was no way in hell he was going to let Sam out of his sight.
Castiel, of course, had no choice but to follow as well. However, Dean noticed a very subtle change is their guide’s behaviour: he was nervous. About what, Dean could only guess.
Chapter 4
Beta: skylar_matthews
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, Brothers Grimm verse, Fusion, adventure, horror
Pairings: Dean/Cas, mentions of Dean/Cassie, suggested Dean/Lisa
Spoilers: Some for The Brothers Grimm
Warnings: some sexual situations, violence, abuse of the French language, lots of UST
Word Count: 26 000 (in total)
Summary: Under the new French occupation, Dean and Sam Grimm have made a living conning people into believing that fairytales and monsters are real. But when they stumble upon the village of Marbaden, everything that they thought they knew gets turned upside down and instead of creating fairytales, they find themselves living in one.
A/N: Written as part of the dc-everafter Challenge. This is loosely based on the film The Brothers Grimm starring Matt Damon and Heath Ledger. Some significant changes have been made compared to the film but there will still be plot spoilers for those who have yet to watch The Brothers Grimm.
Special thanks to my lovely beta reader, skylar_matthews, and to talli_approved for creating the challenge. This was an awesome excuse to fuse the SPN universe with one of my favorite films and I had a great time writing this! Lastly, I want to thank h4ppy-fun-b4ll for creating beautiful artwork to accompany my fic. It was fun working with you, darling! <3
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue | Art Masterpost
The light from the lantern bounced off the shadows, casting a pale glow over the path in front of them. The night had fallen thick upon the forest, the moon and stars unable to penetrate the dense canopy of treetops. Without the aid of the lantern, Christian would be unable to see even his hands in front of his face.
“…are we getting close?” a tiny voice asked behind him.
Christian jumped as his sister’s voice cut through the eerie silence of the forest. Although he could feel her presence close behind him, the unsettling stillness of the forest had been distracting his thoughts and he was starting to regret his decision to come out here.
He stopped and turned to exchange a look with his nine year old sister, the glow of the lantern just barely outlining her face. “I can’t be sure, Gwen. It may still be a ways off.”
Gwen’s lips trembled and he could see unshed tears welling in her eyes. “I’m scared, Christian.”
Christian wasn’t just scared; he was terrified. But as Gwen’s older brother, he knew he had to stay strong for her. With a sympathetic smile, he stepped forward and wrapped his free arm over her small shoulders. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Gwen sniffled and pulled her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Although Christian was only 11 years old, he was a bit tall for his age and loomed a good 6 inches over his little sister. “…what if we get lost?”
Christian pulled back to look into his sister’s big, brown eyes and ruffled her hair affectionately. “We won’t get lost, silly. If we do, we can follow your bread trail home.”
For emphasis, he reached out his arm to illuminate the last small chunk of bread crumbs Gwen had dropped on the path behind them. She still had most of the loaf tucked away in her satchel.
“See? Nothing to worry about. Now, come on. We should keep going.”
Reluctantly, Gwen nodded and fell in step behind her brother. The slipped into another silence, unbroken by the absence of animals in a forest that should have had at least owls hooting or small rodents scurrying about. But after a few minutes, Gwen spoke up again.
“…are we doing the right thing, Christian?”
It was something Christian had wondered himself since they had set out. The reason he had suggested they run away had been about all about Gwen: to protect her. At home, while their father worked in the fields and Christian assisted him, their father’s new wife often took out her abuse on Gwen: beating her, making her go most of the day without food, even once locking her in the storage cellar for hours. And on the weekends when their father would travel to the nearest town to sell their produce, Christian would also be left home alone to experience their step mother’s abusive hand.
When Christian had tried telling their father, their father had gotten angry and accused his children of making up lies about their new mother. He had only himself ever raised his hand against his children a few times in their lives but each time a new bruise appeared on Christian or Gwen’s skin, he took the word of his wife that it was deserved.
“I don’t want her hurting you any more, Gwen,” Christian declared, finality in his voice. Or so help him, he would do something regretful if she ever touched his sister again.
He felt Gwen grasp his free hand and give it a squeeze. Like any typical boy his age, he felt embarrassment at showing any affection to his family members. But away from the prying eyes of their neighbors and tucked into the terrifying depths of the forest, he squeezed back: whether out of affection or his own fear, he couldn’t be sure.
As they continued to walk deeper into the forest, they failed to notice the black crow that had been following them for some time now. Crouched within the thick shadows, it hobbled along and gulped down every piece of bread that Gwen tossed behind her.
*
Sam exited the small hut and sighed, journal clutched in his left hand.
“Well?” Dean asked, stroking Impala’s neck as she finished the carrot he had been feeding her. She whinnied softly and nuzzled Dean’s shoulder.
“Same thing as the Gaertner kid: last the parents saw Gwen and Christian, they had been putting them to bed. There’s no indication of forcible entry. It’s like they vanished into thin air.”
“So Cas’ ‘big, bad wolf’ theory ain’t adding up?” Dean responded sarcastically.
“I dunno, Dean. Kids don’t just disappear into thin air. Maybe there is something not quite normal going on here.”
Sam walked over to Ruby and untied her reins.
“Oh, come off it, Sam,” Dean snapped, tugging Impala along. “You’ve known since you were eight that it’s all just make belief.”
The remark dredged up a painful memory that Dean pushed as far back into his head as possible. The silence that he was met with made Dean feel slightly guilty and he didn’t have to look at his brother to know Sam was thinking the same thing.
After a moment, Sam said, “…a loaf of bread was missing from their pantry.”
Dean almost sighed in relief, glad Sam decided to not have one of their ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ moments. “So, what’re you thinking? Kids ran away?”
“The mother-Meg, she didn’t seem all that surprised when I suggested it,” Sam replied, shrugging. “Mr. Jäger’s pretty torn up about it, says they’d never do that, but it might be worth looking into.”
“Great. We’ve been promoted to wolf hunters and baby sitters,” Dean complained. “Anything else we should look for in the fucking forest? Maybe some leprechauns and a unicorn while we’re at it.”
“Dean-”
“Don’t even start, Sammy, I’m not in the mood.” It was a bleary mid-morning, the food in the village was lousy, and Dean should have been well on his way to Hamburg by now. Instead, Dean and Sam were walking down the path to see the crazy, anti-social, bloody-knife wielding huntsman with the social skills of a rock. “Killing a stupid wolf they think is eating their kids?-maybe doable. Finding two brats in a forest that size?-sure, if we get lucky. But our luck’s been shit since we left Karlstadt and leaving my fate to some psycho with creepy, blue eyes while we play ‘Forest Ranger’ in the woods ain’t my idea of a good time.”
“Wait,” Sam said, unable to hold back a chuckle. “So this-this isn’t about you being pissed over the job-”
“Job? We’d have to get paid for it to be a job,” Dean grumbled.
“-you just don’t want to be left alone with Castiel.”
The murderous look on Dean’s face only made Sam grin.
“He’s not that bad, Dean.”
“That bad? Dude, the guy’s so sketchy he makes medicine merchants look like honest folk.”
“I don’t get why you’re so bugged out by him,” Sam said. “You’ve only just met. Even he shouldn’t be making you this uncomfortable, unless-”
And Sam’s eyes lit up as if he suddenly stumbled upon the freaken Holy Grail. Dean knew that look. It was the same look Sam had given him last year when Dean had met this slave girl, Cassandra, and Dean had kept brushing it off as if she were nothing more than part of the staff of a wealthy land owner they had been assisting (his sawmill had been ‘haunted’). Truthfully, the short-lived affair had remained secret even from Sam, crossing cultural boundaries that Dean didn’t even want to think about, but in the days that followed, whenever Sam had tried bringing up her name in conversation, it was often accompanied with that look Dean was receiving now.
“No!” Dean said, a bit too loud and too quickly. He could already feel his blush and so, he resorted to acting indignant so his reaction could be mistaken for ire. “It’s not like that! He’s just this-socially retarded, weirdo and-Cas isn’t even-”
“I am not what, Dean?”
Dean jumped out of his skin as Castiel seemed to have magically appeared in the path in front of them (in truth, Dean had been so busy arguing with Sam that he hadn’t even been looking at the road, but it was easier to think Castiel was a creeper who pops out of nowhere than to admit to having weak situational awareness).
“Jesus, think you can warn us before you do that?” Dean bitched.
Castiel looked really confused. “My name is not Jesus. It is Ca-”
“Figure of speech, Cas.”
Again, Dean wasn’t far off with the socially retarded remark. Evidently, Castiel also didn’t speak German like a normal person.
As Castiel drew closer, Ruby and Impala began flipping out, pulling back and tugging at the reigns.
“Whoa, whoa, easy there, baby,” Dean said. He tried patting his horse but Impala was so spooked that she galloped a full step back, dragging Dean with her.
“Ouch, shit!”
Dean stumbled but stubbornly refused to let her loose.
Sam was having a similar issue with his horse.
“Shh, calm down, Ruby. It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Ruby was far less complying than Impala, already stepping back so far that she was dragging Sam back towards the village.
“What’s wrong with them?” Sam called out.
Dean turned suspiciously to Castiel, who watched the two brothers with a blank expression.
“It must be the forest,” Castiel responded, indicating to the woods behind them. “Not even the villagers go anywhere near the forest any more. We will have to continue without them.”
Great. Not only would he be trekking in the forest looking for god knows what but he also would have to do it without his baby. Dean couldn’t help but think that this was turning out to be a really shitty day.
*
After an hour of wandering into the woods, tripping into a stream, and having his masculinity questioned after he screamed upon seeing a rabbit (seriously, it had crazy, appearing-out-of-nowhere Castiel skills), Dean’s stomach was grumbling, his feet were soaked, and he had determined that this was, in fact, a really shitty day.
“Enchanted forest, my ass,” he mumbled to himself. The only thing remotely strange about the forest was the lack of animals. Then again, with Amazon King Castiel carrying a knife and axe and navigating these woods like he owned the place, Dean didn’t blame the animals for not sticking around. “Can’t we go back already? This is a waste of time.”
Sam and Castiel were deep in conversation, discussing something about the type of cedar trees that grow in this part of the woods. Dean did not regret interrupting what had to be the dullest, nerdiest conversation in the history of conversations.
Castiel suddenly stopped, bending down to examine some shrubs. Sam, who stood taller than everyone else, loomed over Castiel like a giant to get a look at what Castiel was pointing to. It seemed Dean’s complaints were well ignored.
“These shrubs have been trampled on recently,” Castiel said, crouching and moving a few steps forward, “as have these branches. Someone has been here.”
Castiel stood up and began walking slowly, seemingly following a trail only he could see. Sam watched with curiosity, listening intently as Castiel pointed out disturbed earth and broken shrubs, all signs of life that had been absent for the better part of their hike in the woods. Dean, however, noticed that as they kept moving, the woods seemed to get darker and more silent (if that were possible) and it made him feel uneasy.
“Guys…are the woods supposed to be this dark?”
With the sunlight unable to burst through the overhead canopy, it felt more like dusk than nearly noon. It was light enough that Dean could still make out Castiel and Sam in front of him, though now it seemed like the shadows were clinging to everything.
“We have entered into the deepest part of these woods,” Castiel replied, low voice carrying the barest hint of surprise. “Stay close and do not wander away from where I tell you to go, even if it is off the path. Do not touch anything; do not trust what you see.”
As ominous as the warning sounded, Dean only took half of it to heart. He had travelled on this roughly made path for the last hour and it didn’t diverge at any point. Chances are, if things got weird, he’d find his way back easily by going back the way he came.
To break the nervous, tension-filled silence, Sam decided to bear the responsibility as conversation starter, as he had been doing for most of the morning thus far, since Castiel and Dean decided that they had nothing to say to each other. “So why do the villagers say you’re cursed?”
Castiel’s eyes widened slightly, one of the only expressions Dean had ever seen him make, looking up from where he was crouched near a bush. “The villagers have not told you?”
“They may have forgotten to mention it while highlighting your great people skills and sense of humor.”
Sam glared at Dean.
“My family came to this village 10 years ago, after our home had been destroyed by the French,” Castiel said quietly, eyes focused on disturbance along the path. “The villagers have never been welcoming towards foreigners but took pity on my family and allowed us to build a cottage outside of the woods.”
“Where is your family from?” Sam interrupted, curiosity getting the better of him.
“A village outside of Kalisz.”
Dean was a bit surprised. While he had trouble pinpointing the origin of Castiel’s accent, he had taken the man to be a typical Norwegian or Scandinavian. Castiel’s pale skin, fine cheek bones, and deep blue eyes were common features Dean had seen of the few Nordics he met in the cities. Castiel’s tall, lanky frame also fit in the stereotype in Dean’s mind.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you were Polish,” Sam admitted, unknowingly on the same train of thought as his brother.
“There are few of us in these parts,” Castiel said. “It made it difficult to adjust when my family first arrived. I spoke less German than my father and brother but picked it up as I offered to assist villagers in woodcutting and in the fields.”
Castiel paused, examining the earth along the path. “But a little over a year after our arrival was when our bad luck began. My mother…passed on, shortly after Anna’s birth. My brother and father also fell ill to the disease but only Gabriel recovered.”
The brief lull in Castiel’s story indicated his discomfort. But Sam and Dean also knew a thing or two about losing parents and couldn’t help but feel sympathy, although Dean was more reluctant to admit it to himself as he was set on viewing Castiel as his nut-job tour guide.
“…so that was when they started calling your family ‘cursed’,” Sam said.
Castiel nodded. “It took some time after we-after my parents were buried, before they would speak to us again. Many had worried about catching the same sickness they thought we had brought with us from the East. Eventually, it was as if the incident were forgotten.”
“But then your brother died and now Anna’s gone,” Sam said, sighing. “And most of them think this has something to do with you.”
“They have not said it…aloud…but I have heard their whispering. I have never been on as good terms with them as Gabriel or Anna. They may not think I killed my family but they seem to believe that bad luck follows me and have reduced their interactions with me.”
The conversation stilted at this point before Sam could offer his sympathy to Castiel. Castiel pointed to a spot a few meters in front of them on the path but the forest had become so dense and dark at this point that Dean had to squint to make out the shape of a satchel strewn on the ground.
“Hey, what’s that?”
Dean jogged forward and bent down to pick it up.
“Dean, do not-”
But Castiel’s warning came too late. As Dean retrieved the satchel, the sound of old branches groaning filled the air around them. Sam turned around in surprise but when he squinted, all he could see were trees.
“…what was that?” he asked Castiel.
But Castiel was busy glaring at Dean. “I thought I had made myself clear: you were not, under any circumstances, to do anything unless I told you to.”
“Lighten up, Cas,” Dean shot back, rifling through the satchel. Castiel’s glare was borderline murderous, the most emotion either brother had seen on his face so far. Triumphantly, Dean pulled out half a loaf of bread. “I’m guessing the kids were here. Think they went off this way?”
Dean began walking up the path further, taking silent joy out of ignoring Castiel, when Sam said, “Uh…Dean? Cas?”
“Not now, Sammy: I think we’re about to find out what’s going on. Then we can get the fuck out of this place,” Dean replied, turning back to the path in front of them.
“That would be great and all, Dean,” Sam started, “you know, if we had a way of getting the fuck out of this place.”
“Huh?”
Dean stood beside Sam and gaped. Beside them, Castiel sighed irritably.
“What the-where the fuck did the path go?”
Where once there had been a path only a minute ago, there were now only trees. It was as if the path had never been there to begin with.
“Maybe….maybe we wandered off the path?” Dean offered, weakly.
“A reasonable explanation…if I had not been standing still, Dean,” Sam shot back.
“I told you not to touch that, Dean,” Cas said.
Dean glared. “What the fuck does me picking this up have to do with forest paths disappearing?”
“What should we do now?” Sam asked.
“We should get the hell out of this place,” Dean said.
“I agree with Dean,” Castiel said. He ignored Dean’s shocked look. It’s the only thing they’ve agreed on in the few times they’ve bothered to exchange words. “It is not safe out here. It may take a moment but I believe I can find the way back.”
But as Castiel said this, a distant light peaked out through the trees in the path in front of them.
“I think…I think the forest wants us to go that way,” Sam said.
Dean gave him a look as if he had lost his head.
Castiel, on the other hand, tensed up. “I…Sam, it may be best if we return to the village first.”
But Sam was already heading in the direction of the light, pushing past the brush that crowded the roughly made path.
“Sammy, come on!” Dean called out, chasing after his brother. Freaked out or not, there was no way in hell he was going to let Sam out of his sight.
Castiel, of course, had no choice but to follow as well. However, Dean noticed a very subtle change is their guide’s behaviour: he was nervous. About what, Dean could only guess.
Chapter 4