Chapter Text
The demon’s arms are like bands of steel, forcing Castiel to remain where he is. Sam’s eyes are calculating as his hand twitches slightly. Castiel tries to catch Dean’s eye, but the other man is completely stoic, his green eyes fixed firmly on Azazel.
“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Castiel, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time to chat any longer,” Azazel says, his yellow eyes narrowing. He shoves Castiel forward, grabbing him by the neck and squeezing hard. Castiel can feel his eyes rolling back into his head as he tries to soundlessly mutter an incantation, but his concentration is failing, and the corners of his vision start to blacken as Azazel swings his blade….
And utters a grunt as his grip slackens, Sam having sliced at the demon’s arm. Castiel falls to his knees, gasping. He just about lifts his head enough to see his own silver blade being pushed into the demon’s chest by Dean, Azazel uttering a loud, shrill, scream as his body collapses.
“Is he dead?” Sam asks, getting to his feet and wincing slightly.
“Looks to be,” Dean mutters, taking out the blade and re-sheathing it, “no blood, just like the other two. Now come on, we need to find Adam.”
“Prince Adam is safe,” Castiel says hesitantly. The brothers stare at him, Sam’s hand tightening slightly on the edge of his sword, “my- uh, colleague sent me a message earlier- that’s how I knew Azazel was already in the palace… I came to the ball hoping to find him before… before it was too late.”
“Where is he?” Sam asks him sharply, not relaxing his stance.
“At the Lotus inn in the red-light district, one of our safe zones. Samandriel is healing him as we speak.”
“Send Bobby with some soldiers, Sam. I’m sure Rufus is still swamped with the guests,” Dean barks out, “and come back here.”
Sam nods jerkily and strides away. Castiel remains slumped, still on his knees in front of Dean. He knows neither brother would be in favor of letting him live after they find out the whole story from him. His heart clenches painfully within his chest. Death had never really fazed him - not even as a child in Asmoira. People just died, it was a fact of life. When Zachariah had given him the assignment he had been fully aware of the consequences. He had no particular links to his country, no friend except Samandriel, no home, no family. And he had never felt the need for them.
His months in Fairhaven, his time spent alongside Dean though… They had spoilt him. He had stopped existing, drifting, obeying orders without question. It was in Fairhaven that he had truly felt like he had a home, it was Dean who made him want to live .
“It’s done,” Sam says, “he’s not very happy at what happened, but Rufus assured me he’ll make sure no one leaves the palace just yet.”
“Good,” Dean says in a distant voice.
There’s a little pause.
“I think now is the time to explain, Castiel.” Sam tells him, his tone bland.
And Castiel does, looking at neither of them. He can’t face them while he explains the entire plot, from injuring Thomas to ‘poisoning’ the food. He talks about Uriel and Raphael, their betrayal of him and Samandriel, and the aftermath. Neither brother interrupts, hearing him out carefully.
“And that is the entire truth?” Sam asks him after his recital.
“I have concealed nothing.” Castiel asserts, finally daring to look up.
Dean is looking straight at him, his face completely blank, his eyes cold. The sight pains him more than he anticipates.
“You may do what you wish with me,” Castiel says hesitantly, “but spare my companion. He has a family back home, his parents and siblings await his return. We had little choice but to accept the mission, and he has never… he has only ever followed orders.”
“If Adam approves,” Sam says thoughtfully, “he may live.”
“Thank you,” Castiel says, bending his head, “and I… I apologize. It means nothing in the face of what I have done, but I am truly - I am sorry.”
There’s a long, uncomfortable pause. Castiel remains where he is, anticipating the click of the sheath, the swish of the blade. At least it’ll be quick .
“Get up, Cas.” Dean’s gruff voice makes Castiel look up, surprised.
“Dean, what...” Sam mutters, but Dean waves him off.
“Your Maj - “
“I told you to call me Dean.”
Castiel gapes at him, unable to say a word. Dean extends a hand and he takes it dazedly, letting himself be helped to his feet.
“We don’t have too many people from Asmoira working in the palace,” Dean says, apropos of nothing, “but the day after your… outburst,” Castiel flushes guiltily, but Dean holds his hand fast,“I talked to every single one of them. And surprisingly, they all told me Asmoira didn’t pay a tribute.”
Castiel stares at him in shock.
That can’t be. The yearly tax was such a well known phenomenon that it couldn’t possibly be -
“When I started really persuading them though, they came out with the truth… and a very inconvenient truth it was too,” Dean says calmly, meeting Cas’s stunned gaze, “I’m surprised the people of Asmoira haven’t tried to assassinate me every day, seeing the reputation Yrnedell’s rule has there.”
Castiel flushes guiltily at that. Sam is looking at Dean, incredulous.
“Let me put it this way, Cas,” Dean continues, “if I was in your place, I probably would have done the same thing. And as far as the world is concerned, there’s no evidence linking you and your friend - Samandriel, is it? - to today’s incident. All I ask from you both is your allegiance to me now.”
“You already have it, and I speak for the both of us.”
At this statement, the other man smiles a little, leaf green eyes lighting up.
“Good,” Dean says, squeezing his hand a little, “I know Zachariah has links with demons. If Yrnedell is to stand up to Neberzyias, we need to take care of Asmoira first. And I want to create as little bloodshed as possible, as your people have suffered quite enough. Swear to me, Castiel, that you will help me with this.”
“I swear,” Castiel says unhesitatingly, “regardless of the consequences.”
“Time to go and face my very upset guests then,” Dean sighs, dropping Castiel’s hand.
“That’s my cue to go,” Sam says quickly, before Dean hauls him back, “I need to go check on Adam, Dean, come on…”
They bicker back and forth as they head toward the doors, and Castiel finds himself staring after them, a fond smile on his face.
He is home.
“You coming, Cas?” Dean asks him as they’re about to leave.
“Of course.”