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The first time Dean saw the forest druid, he was shrouded in the green shadows of the Deep Forest, the shadowy outline of a flaring cloak and eyes that gleamed blue momentarily before fading into the mist. Dean didn't know what he was seeing and stood for a long moment, a ichor-soaked sword at the ready, hand raised and tracing a protective sigil in the air. The apparition faded, and when Dean's brother, Sam, asked what he saw, Dean could only shake his head.
"Nothing. Let's go."
Sam and Dean slung the dismembered goblins into a pile and set the remains ablaze with a few drawn words. When they were burned and the ashes scattered, the brothers headed back to their camp. It wouldn't do to be wandering when darkness fell.
During the night, they traded off keeping watch. Neither brother ever had need to raise an alarm, but in the morning, Dean noticed fresh runes carved into the trunk of a tree a few paces from their fire pit. The runes didn't ooze sap; they just glowed faintly blue-green. He tentatively laid a few fingers to the edge of one and felt something buzz over his skin like cold mountain water.
"You see these?" he asked Sam, who immediately perked up and came over to inspect them.
"No… Were these here yesterday?"
Without waiting for an answer, Sam went to rummage some parchment and gall ink out of his pack so he could make a sketch. Dean felt a chill run across the back of his neck and turned slowly to take in the forest surrounding them. In the early morning, the air was still heavy with mist, and the spaces where the light found its way down to the floor were glowing pillars interspersed between the dark trunks of trees. Dean weaved a path around their campsite, examining the leaf litter and watching out of the corners of his eyes for movement.
He never found so much as a snapped twig to indicate an intruder, but he couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched as they made their way out of the forest and onto the road that would take them back into town.
The Brothers Winchester were mage-warriors, trained by their father before them to hunt the dark creatures of the Deep Forest who constantly threatened travelers and villages. The striking pair were well known in the towns that surrounded the forest. Sam, the younger of the two, was a muscular man who stood a good head over his brother—and most other men—with dark eyes and glossy brown hair that framed his jawline. Dean was fairer, with short, dark blond hair, green eyes, and freckles that gave the older Winchester a boyish charm. Only the cut of their features and the broad grin they shared marked them as brothers.
They had neither guild recognition nor knighthood, but they were fierce fighters. And, more importantly, they came when the locals sent word, unlike the great magic and sword wielders on high, who only descended when ordered by their king—or when tempted by a fat purse.
"Here, look at this."
Sam walked over to where Dean sat, his hair shaking loose from behind his ears as he leaned over and braced one hand on the edge of the table. In his other hand, he held out a tattered bit of parchment, upon which was a rough sketch of twisting lines and scribbles with several X's marked in charcoal.
"These marks show where riders have gone missing over the past few months along the West River Road. A messenger from Keninbaird left it at the tavern this morning to warn travelers off the road."
Dean pursed his lips in thought for a moment, tapping fingers on the table in an irregular rhythm. "Will o' wisps?"
"You think so?" Sam tilted his head, as though in consideration, but Dean read in his dark eyes that he had already discarded the theory. "...Most riders are wary enough to not be tempted off the road by glimmering lights at night these days."
"What then… werebear?"
Sam nodded. "Maybe... Or another giant spider..."
"Ug." Dean shuddered. He preferred not to remember that last one. The beast had nearly had him before Sam managed to summon a fireball and distract it long enough for them to remove enough legs to keep the damned thing still. Ruined his favorite pair of boots.
"Well, whatever it is, it's obviously found itself a hunting ground," Sam remarked. "We should get down there and clear the road. It will be harvest time soon, and the grain carts usually use that route." He loomed and stared down at Dean expectantly.
"All right, all right," Dean grumbled, running a hand through his hair and already starting a mental packing list. "You go get supplies. I'll check the weapons."
They made their way to Fallcalf over the next few days, the town just south of where the disappearances started. Sam would have had the horses take them there at a gallop, but Dean wouldn't hear of it.
"You need to baby them a bit, Sammy," he chided, giving Aepyceros's shoulder a fond pat.
Sam scowled and rolled his eyes. "Chaser could handle it."
The black geldings they rode had the same sire and were remarkably alike, steady and reliable, true warrior's horses with strong frames. Dean was sure they would both come up lame if he let Sam set their pace, and he told his brother as much. Sam continued sulking as they took lodgings in Periglen for the night, but later in the evening, he met Dean at the local tavern in a much better mood.
"Hey, I talked to the owner of the local mage's shop, asked him to look at those runes we found in the forest."
Dean snorted quietly. Of course Sam's good mood was from doing magic research.
Sam slid into the chair across from his brother and lifted a hand to the serving girl before meeting Dean's eyes and continuing. "He thinks they might be druid."
Dean raised his eyebrows, swallowing a sip from his mug of mead. "A forest druid… I thought those were a myth. Like water nymphs."
Sam laughed lightly. He and Dean had spent many hours as children stalking rivers and ponds, hoping to catch one of the beautiful creatures by surprise. "We've dealt with enough strange creatures that I'd just as well assume that nothing is a myth anymore."
Lips quirking, Dean tilted his head in agreement; myths were something of a Brothers Winchester specialty.
Upon reaching Fallcalf the next day, they spent a few hours asking around with the local town leaders and lodging house owners and discovered no one had found any sign of the missing riders. Only a few of the horses, still tacked, had been recovered. No one had dared to travel up the road in weeks.
The brothers continued up the West River Road late in the day, when the sun was already beginning to set. They scouted close to the sections where riders had gone missing, but there wasn't anything obvious that Dean could see. No creepy webs, no giant, broken game trails used by a large predator… In the fading light, he almost missed a small section of broken brush that indicated something had left the road.
"Sam, check it out." He pointed out the opening. They guided their horses to the edge of the road and dismounted to investigate it.
"Looks like someone took a horse through here," Sam agreed. It was too dry for tracks, but the direction of the crushed branches and size was about right for a horse having plowed through. "Maybe you were right and some fools have been following will o' wisps…"
"I'll go," Dean said, checking his sword and dagger and pulling an axe from his pack to strap to his belt.
Sam protested, shoulders held tense. "We'll both go."
"What, and have the horses stolen again? I don't think so. There's not much to worry about at this time of day, Sam."
His brother glowered but stayed put as Dean strode into the shade of the trees, following the trail of broken-down brush for a time, scanning for any hint of the lost rider. Eventually, the forest floor opened up as the canopy above grew denser, and the trail was lost. Dean wandered a bit further, spotting a few areas on the ground darker than the surrounding carpet of leaves. The litter had been kicked up and flipped over. Drawing closer to the distrubed patches and scanning nearby, he saw what appeared to be a spatter of blood on the trunk of one of the trees. As he bent to inspect it, the back of his neck suddenly tingled uncomfortably. Dean tensed, listening, but he could only hear the gentle rustling of leaves as the forest swayed in a breeze.
"Show yourself." He turned and stood, putting his back to the tree. When nobody appeared, he started murmuring a spell their father had taught them that would force will o' wisps to reveal themselves.
"I am not a will o' wisp."
The deep voice of a man rumbled through the glade, and Dean found himself speechless for a moment as a stranger stepped out from behind a tree several paces away. Forest druids were myths, but Dean was certain he was looking at one. The man was stocky, dressed all in rough woven green cloth. A cloak of soft brown suede covered his shoulders and fell past his knees. Hardened vines with leaves sprouting here and there wrapped his calves and forearms. But it was the man's face that held Dean's attention. He had raven black hair crowned with a ringlet of green leaves, a gentle jawline ending in a cleft chin, and pale blue eyes that stood out even in the half-light, eyes that radiated calm. Dean had the fleeting thought that he wouldn't much have minded finding this man by mistake during a search for water nymphs, before narrowing his eyes, taking in the stranger's silhouette. He had seen this man before… after they had killed the goblins.
"Decided to come over and say 'hello' this time, huh?"
The man's brow furrowed. He glanced Dean over before answering, but the expression was more quizzical than threatening. "You seemed to have everything in hand with the goblins… Thank you for making certain the flames died out before leaving."
Dean frowned. The druid was standing calmly, hands by his sides, with no weapons visible, but Dean still was wary. "...Are you following us?"
"I'm following disturbances in the forest… You seem to be as well."
"Do you know what happened here?" Dean motioned at the ground but didn't move his eyes from the stranger's face.
"No… I found a horse wandering southeast of here, a brown mare, but no sign of her rider."
"Where's the horse?"
"Probably farther east by now. I took her to join one of the bands that roams this side of the woods."
Dean snorted. "Wasn't aware druids were horse thieves. What if her rider wants her back?"
The druid frowned and looked deeper into the forest. Dean caught the instant those blue eyes hitched on the bloodied tree he had been examining. "...I think you and I can both agree that's unlikely."
Dean considered the situation. Druids weren't supposed to be evil or aggressive to travelers… unless the rider had been doing something to harm the forest, which didn't seem particularly likely. He decided this man, however strange, probably wasn't the cause of the disappearances, especially if he had been out of the area days ago.
"Well, my brother and I are going to be out here tonight trying to find whatever is doing this. Just keep clear of us in the dark, okay?"
"You shouldn't stay out here at night," the druid objected, frown deepening. "It isn't safe."
Dean smirked. "That's our job, stranger. We can take care of ourselves."
"My name is Castiel." The man's forehead formed even deeper creases in his annoyance, and the flicker of emotion on the druid's too-calm countenance made Dean smile more broadly.
"Well, nice to meet you, finally. I'm Dean Winchester."
"I know." At Dean's confused look, he added, "The Brothers Winchester aren't exactly strangers to the Deep Forest."
With a shrug, Dean glanced back toward the road. "Well, like I said, keep out of our way tonight. We have no quarrel with you… or the forest."
"Be careful, Dean Winchester. Whatever is doing this… It does not seem like a will o' wisp to me."
That, Dean could agree with… Something wasn't right about the blood and signs of a struggle here. The druid didn't move to leave, just kept regarding Dean with an open stare until Dean finally had to turn his back on him or look ridiculous trying to weave his way sideways through the trees. Dean couldn't help but imagine, as he walked back toward the road, that Castiel's gaze was upon his back the entire way.
Before dark fell, Sam and Dean split up to cover more of the road and offer tempting lone targets. It wasn't without risk, but a lot of supernatural predators wouldn't target people traveling in groups. Dean trailed behind until he could no longer hear Chaser's hoofbeats. He barely had to guide Aepyceros; the horse could see the road better than he could in the moonlight. The forest was dark on either side of them, and the occasional rustle of something moving in the brush kept Dean's senses on alert. There were no ghostly lights in the distance, no growls of a predator or silences that would indicate the passing of one unseen. They walked for so long that Dean started expecting to see that Sam had turned back to meet them.
"Dean! Help!"
It was the voice of his brother.
"Sammy?" he called.
"Help! Over here!"
It certainly sounded like Sam, but Dean paused at the edge of the road, watching Aepyceros's ears prick toward the noise. He didn't like the idea of possibly running his horse into a trap... but he might need the speed. He urged the gelding into the woods, drawing his sword and murmuring words that caused the area around them to be cast in reddish light. Whatever awaited them would surely hear the trampling of brush, so no use going in blind. Aepyceros gamely crashed through the thickets that lined the road, the cracking and snapping momentarily blotting out any other noise. When they were through the worst of it, Dean called out again.
"Sam!"
"Dean!"
Dean urged Aepyceros into a trot, watching for any low branches and just keeping the horse pointed in the right direction. Then, he saw it, a twin red glow that would mark his brother's sword. The light shifted in motion, and Dean could hear grunts as his younger brother fought something he couldn't make out at this distance. He gave the gelding a kick and charged to aid.
A branch came out of nowhere, snapping across Dean's shoulder and toppling him over Aepyceros's side. For a dreadful moment, Dean thought his boot would catch in the stirrup, but with a wrench it came free and he hit the ground hard. He was still struggling to suck in a breath to call a command to halt his mount when something bony twined around his leg. It wrapped and squeezed and Dean felt sharp spines pierce his flesh through his breeches. He let out of yell and swung his sword up to see. A thick, black vine with thorns was tightly gripping his leg from calf to thigh.
He saw the second, smaller vine too late as it whipped into his hand, slamming the sword from his grasp. It tumbled out of reach. Dean immediately went for the utility axe strapped to his belt.
The second vine whipped toward his hand as soon as he started swinging. He managed only to nick it before it snapped around his wrist, drawing blood as it pried the axe from his clenched fist. The vine tangled around his leg gave an abrupt lurch, and Dean slammed hard into a tree, the impact making white fizzle across his dark field of vision.
" Acueumantena!"
The voice was deeper than Sam's, and Dean recognized it from earlier in the day. Blue-green light flashed and a bolt snapped into Dean's view. Temporarily blinded, Dean laid back to give the druid room to cast. There were several more flashes Dean could see through his eyelids, and the smell of burning wood. The vine that still had a firm grip around Dean's thigh pulled more urgently, tearing at the thorn wounds and bouncing Dean roughly over the ground. The sound of pounding boots was followed by pain as the other man bodily threw himself onto Dean, pulling back against the thorned vine. There was a grunt as Castiel shifted and then a splintering noise. Something acrid spattered onto Dean's face as the pressure around his leg released. He coughed and swiped a sleeve across his eyes before trying to push up, yanking the remains of thorns from his thigh.
"My brother..." Dean shoved Castiel off of him.
"Stop, Dean! That is not your brother."
Castiel tried to grab onto his arm, but Dean elbowed him away, grimacing as his leg throbbed. He rose with a groan and turned in a circle. He couldn't see the red light of Sam's sword any longer. "Sam!"
"Dean! It was an illusion. Your brother is farther up the road."
Dean turned back to look at Castiel, who was only dimly lit by the light that still surrounded the sword on the ground nearby. The druid could just as easily be an illusion himself… but he had just helped Dean fight off the brambles from hell, so Dean was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Let's go then," he growled. The throbbing pain in his leg seemed to lessen as he forced himself to hobble to the nearest tree. He clicked his tongue a few times. "Aepyceros!"
"Dean, listen to me," Castiel pleaded, moving to join Dean by the tree. "That vine around your leg, the thorns, they were poison. Stop and let me heal you."
"It's fine. Let's get to Sam first."
Dean made to step toward his sword, which still lay on the ground, but Castiel grabbed his shoulders and pushed him against the trunk of the tree. In an instant, Dean had his dagger drawn and held between them, angled with an edge toward the druid's throat.
Castiel regarded him stoically and held firm. "You don't have the time," he grated. Then, more gently, he added, "Have faith; the forest will protect your brother until we can get to him."
Dean realized his leg was going numb, and an icy sensation was seeping up his hip and side. Well, that's not good… It seemed Castiel was right; he wouldn't get far with only use of one leg. He lowered the weapon and slid it back into its sheath, glaring into Castiel's eyes. "Fine. Hurry up."
Castiel released one of his shoulders and slid a hand down to rest on his thigh. Dean clenched his teeth and tried not to shift in discomfiture at the intimacy as Castiel began murmuring a spell. A soft glow appeared under his hand. As he worked, Dean's chest started to feel heavy, and the burn of cold reached his neck, leaving one side completely numb.
"Not working..." It took Dean effort to slur out the complaint.
Castiel frowned, letting the spell die out. His gaze flicked to Dean's face and he stared for a moment. A brief expression of uncertainty was the only warning Dean had before the druid's eyes flared with a blue glow and Dean found himself being pressed bodily to the tree. Castiel covered Dean's lips with his own, swallowing a startled curse, and a magical current washed over him, like a bucket of cold water. Shivering, Dean tried to push the other man off. Either Castiel was stronger than he looked or the poison was taking its toll because Dean couldn't seem to budge him. The cold subsided and something warm and soft seemed to fill Dean's chest. He felt dizzy as it spread through his head and shoulders, pushing back against the creeping numbness. Everything slid out of focus, and a moment later, Dean slipped into blackness.
His mind dragged itself into a light doze, a small part of it alert to something out of the ordinary.
"Dean Winchester, can you hear me?"
The strange voice immediately made Dean struggle farther into wakefulness. There was a hand on his hair, and his head seemed to be resting on someone's lap. He lurched up, throwing himself into a roll, which he immediately regretted when the world kept spinning, even after he had stopped. Dean faltered after managing to shove himself up onto his knees, unable to work out how to get his legs out from under his own weight for a moment.
The blurry sight of someone—Castiel—approaching and reaching for his face made Dean flinch back, but the man just momentarily touched his cheek, causing a wash of coolness that cleared Dean's vision and brought everything into startling focus. Dean breathed hard for a few moments, his heart still pounding from the abrupt awakening.
"I apologize. You're going to feel that later, but we're out of time." Castiel's eyes were soft with compassion, and one of his hands hovered uncertainly in the air, not quite reaching for Dean's shoulder. "The forest can't protect Sam for much longer. Can you walk?"
Dean hoisted himself up, the events of that night so far coming back to him. "What the hell was that thing, that... plant?" Glancing around, he saw that his sword and axe had been set on the ground nearby and stepped to retrieve them.
"It's been corrupted by some sort of dark magic. There's something here, something powerful, but I can't see it." Castiel peered into the woods, and Dean followed his gaze, nearly leaping back when he saw the large creature that was approaching. It was shaped like a hart, but with thick, leafy branches growing from its skull and eyes that shone with green fire. Castiel approached it calmly and raised a hand, letting the beast sniff him before moving to its side. A thick root burst through the ground, curling upward to form a step for the druid to mount. He held a hand out to Dean once he had settled himself onto the creature's back. "Come on."
"Oh, no thank you," Dean replied, raising his hands and taking a step back. He brought fingers to his lips, ignoring the bitter taste of gods knew what and letting out a sharp whistle. He followed it with a few tongue clicks for good measure. "Aepyceros!"
"Dean, there's no t—"
A squeal and the beat of approaching hooves cut off Castiel's protest. Aepyceros cantered into the clearing, rolling his eyes at the strange green-eyed hart and snorting as he came to Dean.
"There's my boy... " Dean ran hands over the horse quickly, looking for wounds, before dragging himself into the saddle. "Lead the way, green witch."
Castiel shot him an affronted look but just wrapped his fingers into the deer's russet coat before it bounded away.
"Hya!" Dean urged Aepyceros to follow, hoping the horse would be able to keep up with the fleeter forest animal.
Castiel pulled up, and Dean brought his horse alongside.
"It's just up ahead." Castiel pointed into the dark. It was oddly quiet... the sort of silence that Dean took as a warning in the Deep Forest. In the middle of summer, the night should have been alive with a chorus of insects.
"So what's our move? Fire?"
The druid frowned unhappily. "I'd like to avoid that if possible."
"Well, you tell me. We're up against evil, poisonous plants… a sword's only going to do so much."
"We need to find the source that's corrupting them. If we can eliminate that, the vines won't be a problem any longer."
Dean drew his sword, checked that his utility axe was fastened in its holster on his belt, and slipped on a pair of chainmail gauntlets. Despite Castiel's caution, he also fastened some leather bands inscribed with fire runes around his wrists. He'd rather have the fire-casting capability and not use it. When he was prepared, he looked up and found Castiel waiting for him. The blue eyes that had been so calm before reminded Dean of gathering storm clouds now.
Dean nodded. "Let's go kill some plants."
He let Castiel lead, keeping Aepyceros behind and his sword dark. Tiny beams of silver moonlight pierced through to the forest floor wherever there was a gap in the thick canopy above, but Dean couldn't see a thing in the dark shadows between. He became aware of the rustling and creaking of branches ahead of them. When Castiel stopped, he raised his hands and suddenly there was light. It was soft, gold-green, and it seemed to be radiating from above like sunlight. Glancing up, Dean found that the leaves on the surrounding trees were glowing.
A noise brought his attention back down to the ground, and he realized that what he had taken for a large tree trunk was actually a column of tightly wound vines.
"Your brother is inside there." Castiel pointed at the writhing pile.
"So, let him out," Dean demanded.
"Those aren't all under my control. I can't remove those shielding him without leaving him vulnerable."
Dean eyed the cluster, spotting darker vines with gnarled bark that was sloughing off in places. A few had wicked thorns like the vine that had attacked him earlier. He gave his sword a practice swing. "Guess it's time to do some pruning then."
He nudged his horse close and started slashing. Within seconds, the vines went on the attack, lashing out at Dean. He wheeled away and back, trying to draw as many off as he could. Castiel kept out of the way, but Dean could see he had his hands raised and was muttering, his eyes gleaming softly. A black vine flashed toward Dean's face and was blocked by a leafier brown one, giving him time to spin out of the way. Cut by cut, chunks of black vines fell, and the air grew thick with the stinging scent of their sap.
The entire cluster suddenly loosened, and Dean could see Sam inside, struggling to free himself.
"Dean!" His brother met his eyes quickly, his face showing relief, before he returned to cutting himself free.
Dean doubled his efforts, concentrating on creating a gap. Finally, Sam tumbled loose, and Dean spun Aepyceros around to place himself between Sam and the remaining vines. He glanced back and saw Castiel offer Sam a hand and start pulling him onto his mount. Aepyceros screamed and bucked to the side abruptly. As Dean struggled to keep his seat, he became aware of movement in the darkness outside Castiel's circle of light. It was something big.
He urged Aepyceros back and had to fight to keep the horse from bolting completely. The gelding snorted and squealed, tossing his head and prancing into short rears. Castiel's deer mount didn't look much happier; it let out a screaming whine. The druid frowned, squinting into the dark.
"What the hell…" Dean growled, keeping his horse turned toward the approaching shuffling with some effort. There was a rumbling groan, and Dean got a good idea what was going to show itself.
He glanced over at Sam and Castiel. "Where's Chaser?"
With a snarl of challenge, the bear came into the light. Well, it was bear shaped, at least. Whatever dark power had turned the vines against them had gotten to this animal as well. It was too large, almost swollen with unnatural energy. There were bald patches, oozing green ichor, all over its coat. Its eyes were milky gray and unseeing. As Dean looked more closely, he could see tiny vines wriggling out through its skin in places. Thick globs of drool hung from its jaws, which were gaping open in a display of aggression. It shuffled and then rose onto its hide legs, letting out a roar at the group.
"Damn it," Dean swore. "Chaser was carrying the bear spear… Can we get to him?" He looked to Castiel, clarifying, "Our other horse!"
Castiel nodded. "Come on!" The hart snorted and spun, nearly unseating Sam before he grabbed onto Castiel. It would have been more amusing if Dean hadn't been worried about an imminent bear charge. Dean let Aepyceros follow, and the horse surged into a run.
Behind them, there was a growl. He began weaving his mount, darting Aepyceros around trees and through narrow gaps. Somehow, the light was following them, flowing from treetop to treetop, and Dean thanked the druid for that miracle. If they could keep ahead of the bear long enough, it would tire.
It roared behind them, and there was the snapping and crashing of vegetation, but the sounds seemed to get more distant. The bear was scuffling with something. Looking over, he saw Castiel's head bowed, looking as though he were speaking to the hart's back.
He's casting still , Dean realized. The druid was trying to hold off the bear even while guiding them through the forest. It occurred to Dean that he'd seen Castiel do a series of very powerful spells for such a short period of time. The man's endurance wouldn't hold out forever, druid or not.
They turned before hitting the thick brush that would mark the areas directly surrounding the road, heading north. Finally, the hart slowed, and Castiel raised a hand to point. Vines were wrapped around a cluster of trees up ahead, and Dean could see the dark shape of Chaser inside pacing them nervously.
"Please let that spear still be on his back," Dean muttered to whatever god might be listening, guiding Aepyceros up to the makeshift pen. Sure enough, the spear was still strapped to Chaser's side. It's long metal blade was a welcome sight.
Dean quickly dismounted, and climbed through the vines, reaching out a hand to cup Chaser's nose soothingly before unbuckling the straps that held the spear in place. Really need to save up for another one of these…
There was a scuff as Sam slid off the hart's back, and he was waiting outside the pen to meet Dean when he clambered through with the spear in hand. "Let me," Sam requested, reaching for the spear.
"Not a chance." Dean tightened his grip and stepped back. Sam scowled and made to speak.
"Sam," Dean cut in, "you're better than me at the spellwork. Figure out what the hell works on possessed plants." He turned to Castiel, who was still seated on his mount. "...Unless you think the bear's behind all this."
"I do not." The sound of wheezing and padding footsteps caused Castiel to turn and stare into the woods, looking worn. "It's coming."
Dean scanned before finding a tree that had a split at about the right height. He slapped Sam's shoulder and pointed at the tree. "Give me a boost."
Sam started to move with him, but roots emerged from the ground at the base of the tree, arching up into rungs against its trunk. Dean glanced at Castiel, whose eyes gleamed with that unearthly blue light again. He and Sam exchanged a look before Sam nodded and returned to Castiel's side by the pen and Dean moved to climb to his perch.
"Try to get it to pass by here," he called back over his shoulder. Even though he knew the druid's magic had to be flagging by this point, they had to get this shot.
The roots receded and were gone by the time the bear approached. Its breathing was labored and rattled wetly, but it still moved with purpose, hunting them. Dean felt a breeze kick up, the branches around him rippling as it fanned his face. It would keep him upwind, he realized. Was it more druid magic? Just how much strength did Castiel have left?
As the bear came closer to Dean, Sam waved his arms, shouting. "Hey! Bear! Here, bear!"
Dean's mouth twitched, and he had to hold in a laugh. Concentrate , he chided himself, hearing the voice of his father in his thoughts. He tightened his grip on the spear and shifted it into throwing position. He'd have to pierce the bear through its back, avoiding the spine and shoulders. He took in deep breaths, the last one just before the bear began to pass by. Dean heard nothing but the wind through the leaves and the rasping wheeze of the bear's breath as he exhaled and released the spear with a snap.
It flew true until a cluster of black vines flashed up and slapped it aside. The spear wheeled askew, its shaft bouncing across the forest floor. The bear spun toward the tree and roared, dead eyes fixing on Dean.
"Oh shit…" Dean eyed the distance to the fallen spear and moved before he could think too hard about it, scrambling as far as he could along one fork of his perch before leaping down and hitting the ground in a roll.
" Dean! "
He didn't stop, stumbling and grabbing the spear even as he saw more vines slithering toward him. He turned and knelt, finding the bear sprinting to his position, closing fast. He barely had time to fix the wrapped base on the ground and angle the shaft up before the bear was upon him. The blade slipped through its ribs, low on its chest, and momentum carried the bear's body forward, jamming the spear deep as its jaws gaped toward his face.
The earth ruptured, roots forcing themselves up between Dean and the bear, pinning its neck. Castiel was suddenly there beside him, reaching down to grab Dean's shoulder and drag him away as the bear foamed and sputtered, keening.
Dean met the animal's clouded eyes one last time as Castiel pulled at him and prayed, Die quickly .
The chaos came flooding back in as Dean stood and took in their situation. Black vines were closing in around them, and although the more natural colored forest vegetation was fighting back, it seemed they were surrounded. Sam was near the horses, hands clenched around silver bracelets, shouting a protective incantation. It seemed to be keeping the vines at bay, but they flicked at the edges of his spellwork, probing for weakness, waiting. It would only be a matter of time.
"Damn, what's doing this?" Dean asked Castiel.
"It's here, but I can't see it," Castiel growled in frustration.
Can't see it…
Dean grabbed Castiel's arm and pushed them into a jog toward Sam.
"Sam, it's a hag!"
His brother's eyes widened. Dean got himself and Cas into the radius of Sam's protection before rummaging on his belt for the rune-carved amethyst he needed. He raised it in front of his face and began chanting the familiar words to cast a revelation.
A whining scream of fury rose around them, and terror rippled along Dean's awareness, nearly making him stumble over the words before he steeled himself to continue. When the spell was complete, he felt the surge of energy wash over him and outward. White light converged several yards away and then melted into the ground.
The hag, stripped of her invisibility and illusion, was a withered thing, all gray, creased skin and black, stringy hair. Crazed silver pupils fixed on him.
"Seeing me won't help you," she laughed, voice raspy as a gravedigger's spade.
Dean took in the black vines that continued to press in on Sam's spell, his brother's face gleaming with sweat, and the weary way Castiel was leaning onto Dean's side.
"I think it's time for some fire," he murmured, glancing at Castiel's face. The druid gave him a short nod.
Dean took in a breath and raised his hands into fists, palms toward his face, fire runes facing the hag. He concentrated for a moment on the bands, bringing the runes to life. The hag was talking again, but he couldn't afford to listen. Castiel's voice rumbled back, engaging her, giving Dean time. Dean thought of the earth beneath him, of the burning summer sun over dried fields of grain, of the boiling of cooking pots, of the searing flame of a blacksmith's forge.
" Talioda feru!" Dean yelled, releasing the spell. The bands around his wrists burned hot orange and a spiral of flame shot forward, slicing through the vines toward the hag. She disappeared in a pillar of fire that swirled for several heartbeats.
When the flames died away, the hag still stood, unscathed. She smiled.
He heard Sam stumble over one of the words in his protective chant and recover. Dean lowered his hands and drew his sword.
Dean leaned his head close to Castiel's. "Do you have any power left to hold her?"
"I'll try." The man's mouth set into a grim line.
Dean swallowed and thought of what would happen to Sam if they failed. Hags liked to play with their food. "Just tell me when."
A few beats passed as Castiel closed his eyes, gathering magic as Dean had a few moments before.
"Yes, don't give up yet," the hag purred. "I'm having such a good time, you know."
"Now."
Dean rushed forward. A wall of vegetation gathered in a corridor as the forest did battle with the hag's corrupted plant life, hemming in Dean and this target. When the hag turned and realized she was cornered, she faced Dean, baring her pointed teeth, bringing up hands tipped with curving talons to defend herself. They'd be sharp as blades; Dean knew from experience.
He didn't bother circling, driving in his first strike as soon as he was in range. She was fast—too fast. Each swing found only air as she danced and shifted around him. A swipe left bloody, burning gashes along his forearm. Another caught him across the cheek, and he tasted blood. A quick jab seemed to catch her by surprise, but she twisted around and raked along his arm, using her other hand to twist and tear the sword from Dean's grasp. She lunged forward, talons latching onto his throat, more digging into his sternum.
"I'm going to enjoy you boys," she snarled, yanking up with unnatural strength until Dean was on his tiptoes, struggling to breathe. "You're young, strong... You'll hold up a while."
Dean became aware of Castiel's chanting when it rose in volume over Sam's. The phrases were guttural, foreign to his ears.
"Save your breath, druid," the hag sneered. "The forest is lost to you!"
Castiel didn't stop, and around them, the vegetation began glowing. Every tree, vine, and leaf that wasn't touched by the hag's power shimmered with faint turquoise light. Dean felt the hag's nails dig into his skin as her hand spasmed.
"Stop or he dies," she threatened.
" Don't... stop," Dean wheezed, hoping Castiel wasn't foolish enough to relent. As least some of them might get out of here alive. The hag's grip tightened further, squeezing his throat shut.
Vines lashed forward, wrapping around the hag, even as she clutched Dean tighter. He couldn't breathe, and spots started to flicker in his eyes as everything grew dimmer. Castiel's voice still cut through him though, radiating with a power as fathomless as the ancient Deep Forest itself, rising into a final screamed phrase.
Everything exploded into light. Even though Dean reflexively shut his eyes, it was like looking up into the sun, searing white but as cold as frost around him. The hag screamed, high and incoherent, and it rang in Dean's ears as her hand grew to ice around his throat, a cold burning. The feeling faded, and Dean felt himself falling and hitting the ground. He buried his face in his arms, trying to get relief from the brilliant light. His ears still rang, even after he was sure the hag was gone, and it wasn't until he felt a hand shake his shoulder that he raised his head.
Dean had to blink a few times to make out anything except blackness. Sam stood over him, a soft halo of red light centered around him thanks to the sword in his hand. His hair was plastered to the sides of his face; he looked tired but uninjured. "You all right?"
"Yeah." Dean pushed up and winced as the hag scratches burned. It was a familiar pain though; hag venom could be treated. He found his sword with Sam's help and brought it to life. Then, he looked around at a changed forest.
Dark, shriveled leaves hung off all the trees. Withered vines littered the dry forest floor. It was eerily silent. As he raised up his sword and moved back toward where Sam and Castiel had been standing, Dean saw the remains of Castiel's ungodly hart first, decayed as though the animal had been dead for months, pale hide stretched over bone, antler branches bare. The druid lay nearby. Dean let out a slow breath as he saw the man's flesh was still intact. Castiel was unconscious, face pale, but as Dean leaned down to put fingers to his neck, he felt life pulsing through him. He was alive.
"What happened?" He turned to look at Sam, who was glancing around, forehead creased in worry.
"There was a bright light… It came from everywhere—the druid, the trees, the ground. The hag just was gone . Dean, I think… There are legends about forest druids wielding the raw power of their forests. I think that's what he did. Look at this place."
Suddenly thinking of the horses, Dean glanced up in panic. He could make out Chaser, pressed as far back as he could in the dead vines that penned him in. Aepyceros stood by him, head draped over the barricade to press cheek to cheek with the other horse. Dean sighed and glanced back down at the druid.
"Castiel. Castiel!" He shook the other man's shoulder and lightly slapped his cheek a few times. The man didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow. "He's out cold..."
"Hey, maybe we should get him out of here. Druids get their power from the forest, right? Everything's dead here."
Dean debated trying to carry Castiel before looking around for some saplings to make a travois. The ones in the area were like dead wood when he chopped through them. Sam figured out what Dean was doing and had already gotten rope by the time Dean had gathered a pile of relatively straight poles. His younger brother helped brace and lash the cross beams. Then, together, they hoisted the druid on and secured him with a few loops of rope. It couldn't be comfortable, but it was better than nothing.
"I got it," Dean said when Sam reached for the top end. "You'll have to lead Aepyceros."
While Sam freed his horse from the vine pen, Dean wandered over to where the skeleton of the bear sat like a misshapen tent. The bones were twined with dead vines, oddly bumpy and gnarled where they should have been smoothly curved. Dean grimaced and worked loose their spear, bits of the remains crackling and sending up puffs of dust in the process. He carefully held his breath until he was well away and wiped the spear in the dirt before handing it over to Sam.
Dean lifted the travois and headed back in the direction of the road. Sam walked alongside leading both horses, quiet but casting intrigued glances at the prone form on the sledge. Dean thought the druid was probably lucky to be unconscious. Sam could be insatiable when it came to magic and lore… His younger brother would have a deluge of questions for a real, live forest druid.
The dead zone extended to the road and across it. The growing light of dawn revealed the extent of the damage. Not a single scrap of green could be seen for miles. It was as though this part of the forest were in the dead of winter. Even the wreath around Castiel's head and the vines that armored his extremities were bare. By the time the brothers found living plants, the sun had risen and pale yellow light was slanting through the trees. Dean kept going until they were once again under a sea of green. Coming across several ancient oaks, Dean pulled Castiel under the largest and stopped.
"Well, it's as good as any spot," Dean observed, accepting a canteen from Sam. "...Think we should take him to a healer?"
"I don't know if we should bring him into town…" Sam craned to look at the branches above them. "Druids never leave their forests."
Both brothers jumped as a shrill croak sounded nearby. Turning, they found a raven watching them from the ground a few yards away. It flapped its wings and made another series of croaks before hopping toward Castiel's pallet.
"Hey, back off! He isn't dead yet!" Dean made to shoo the bird away. It stood its ground, beady black eyes fixing him with an unimpressed stare.
"Do you think it's trying to tell us something?" Sam asked.
"What? That it's hungry?"
"No, like… druids befriend animals, right? Maybe the raven knows something that will help Castiel."
Dean gave his brother a skeptical look. "Really, Sammy? It's a bird."
The raven called again, hopping a few feet into the forest and then turning back to look at them.
Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean. See?
Sighing, Dean hefted the handles of the travois again. "Lead on, bird."
They followed the raven for miles, farther into the Deep Forest than Dean had ever been with Sam. As the sun rose toward the center of the heavens, Dean was starting to feel winded and dizzy, although he shrugged off Sam's offer to pull the dead weight for a while.
"Hey, look at that."
Dean squinted where Sam was pointing. In the hazy, gold light, what Dean had originally taken for a large boulder covered in moss was actually a small house. He pulled Castiel over and then set his weight down. The house's walls and roof were covered in so much growth that Dean couldn't tell how it had been constructed.
"I thought druids lived inside trees..."
"That's dryads , Dean."
Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged, trudging to the door and finding it unbolted. Inside was a small room with a single bed, a hearth, and a simple table and chair. He turned back to Sam.
"Well, hope this is the right place…"
The raven let out a few croaks from its perch on a young maple above them before taking flight and winging away into the forest. Sam met Dean's eyes and shrugged. Guess that settles that.
Back at the travois, Dean struggled to lift Castiel's torso upright, stumbling a bit as he lost his footing. Sam sighed loudly and gave him a pointed look. With an annoyed huff, Dean stepped aside to let his younger brother take most of the man's weight, supporting the druid's legs instead as they shuffled him into the small room and got him arranged on the bed.
When Sam started to gather materials for a fire to break the chill, Dean lowered himself to the floor and leaned back against the wall for a moment. Fatigue was making itself known after a hard night's work. He closed his eyes and listened as Sam moved in and out of the room.
When he groggily pulled himself out of sleep, Dean stared around at the dirt floor in confusion. He was lying down, a blanket rolled up under his head. The glowing embers in the hearth explained why he was sweating in his coat. He vaguely remembered waking to Sam cleaning his wounds and nagging him into drinking a mug of tea. What he was struggling with was where the hell he was... Blearily, he realized there were a few flowering vines running over his side and legs, although it didn't really make sense for them to be growing in a dark room. He glanced up and found a hand dangling close to his face.
Castiel .
Propping himself up, Dean examined the man on the bed. The druid's chest rose and fell smoothly, the deep breaths of restful sleep. His face, slack and tranquil, had some color back in it now. The twisting circlet of vines around his head was budding with new leaves coming in the brilliant gold-green of spring. Dean stared for a few minutes, a feeling of peace sinking into his bones.
Then, he locked it away and stood as quietly as possible to check outside, where he knew Sam would be waiting.
A few months later, Dean was breaking down a snare that a troll had left for unsuspecting hunters when something twigged his senses. He straightened and turned, then jerked back with a start.
"Gods, man, you need to stop doing that!"
Castiel, standing barely a foot away, tilted his head and eyed Dean coolly. The thick wreath of leaves topping his unruly black hair had several pale blue wildflowers blooming in it that day. It did that sometimes, Dean had discovered.
"Hello, Dean. I see you and Sam got to the troll already," Castiel observed, choosing to ignore Dean's rebuke.
"Yep, just cleaning up a few of its traps… How are things in the deeps of the Deep Forest?" Dean shifted his weight but didn't move back, instead straightening his shoulders and stretching to full height.
Castiel's gaze took in his stance before fixing on Dean's face again, blue eyes unperturbed. "...Quiet."
"That's what I like to hear." Dean grinned more on reflex than anything, distracted by the way the foot of air between them seemed to be charged with energy, like a spell gathering. Castiel always had an aura of power around him… although Sam insisted that Dean was imagining it.
"It's not always that way this late in the autumn...." Castiel inched closer, turning to look at the trunk of a nearby poplar. "Winter is when the forest is most vulnerable."
"Guess every place needs a good spring cleaning, even the woods…" Sunshine , Dean thought. Standing near Castiel was like finding yourself in a beam of sunlight on a cool morning. He felt an unreasonable urge to lean into the warmth. "Hey, where do you even go in the winter? Do you hibernate or something?"
Castiel's lips twitched. "I have a place. I'll show you sometime, if you like."
"Yeah," Dean ageed, then cleared his throat. "Good to know where to find you. Just in case."
Castiel turned back to meet Dean's gaze again. His eyes were the same shade of blue as the wildflowers on his diadem of leaves.
"Just in case," he agreed, solemn.
This time, he gave Dean plenty of warning before leaning in and closing the distance between them.