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Castiel ran through the wood, clutching what remained of his possessions to his chest while holding his lantern in front of him. The last thing he needed was to trip on a branch and twist an ankle, not with the witch hunters following so closely behind him.
He hadn't wanted it to come to this, running from Lawrence under the cover of darkness. He'd planned to stay for a while, quietly making his potions and trying not to draw too much attention. For a while, his plan had worked. No one paid much mind to the private, quiet proprietor of the local apothecary shop. Ruby had noticed him, though. When she came to him to ask for a concoction to kill her abusive employer Nick, he couldn't refuse. The old man was truly ghastly, and the tears pooling in Ruby's eyes made it impossible to refuse her. So what if he'd thrown in a charm or two to maximize the pain old Nick would feel? It wasn't as though he didn't deserve it. And though Castiel wasn't a flashy sort of witch, he wasn't without his vices. He hadn't had the thrill of a killing curse in a long time.
That was his downfall. Nick's death was more gruesome than the story of a surprise heart attack that Ruby had prepared. It was, most said, the work of the devil himself. After just one hour of questioning (some might say torture) from resident witch hunter John Winchester, the girl had folded and exposed his role in the murder.
Castiel cursed as he nearly lost his footing in the thick brambles. He couldn't blame Ruby, not really, especially since the original poison she asked for wasn't nearly as obvious as the one he'd created. Still, he was now forced to leave the first place that had felt like home to him in all these years. It was rare for a witch to find a community outside of a coven, but Lawrence had come close even with the legendary Winchester witch hunters up the road.
Ah, yes. There was still the matter of John Winchester's son Dean. While Dean had carried on his father's legacy of witch hunting and worked alongside him, the younger Winchester took no pleasure in it. In fact, Castiel suspected that Dean knew the truth. He had practiced here undetected for several years, never bothered even once by the witch hunter squad despite his rather obvious profession. The only explanation that made sense was that Dean was covering for him, helping him conceal his true nature. Why, Castiel couldn't guess. Normally, humans with souls as bright as Dean's were repulsed by the darkness in his own, even if they couldn't say why. But having Dean linger around the shop wasn't entirely unpleasant. The attention felt better than Castiel dared admit.
Now, he supposed he'd have to live without those green eyes. He cursed his own temper and showmanship. Why couldn't he have just stuck to Ruby's plan? Castiel stumbled into a clearing, panic setting in as he heard the barks of hunting dogs nearby. There was nowhere to hide here. He'd have to try to fool the hunters. He carefully set down the lantern in the center of the clearing next to his small pack of clothes before diving under the nearest bush, covering himself in branches.
The hunters rushed into the clearing, their dogs going right for his things. Castiel could tell by their boots that it was John, Dean, and their partner Robert Singer. Dread pooled in his stomach. Dean wouldn't be able to stop both of them, and that was assuming he even wanted to. He had to hope that they would be fooled by the seemingly abandoned belongings.
"Hey Dad, it looks like he dropped his things here to confuse the dogs. He's probably long gone by now, why are we still out here?"
"The boy is right, John," Singer added gruffly. "He won't be back to trouble us again if he has any sense of self preservation. I say we call it quits, I'm getting too old for these wild goose chases."
Castiel watched John's feet move in a slow, careful circle as he made his way around the edge of the clearing. Mercifully, he walked directly by Castiel. "One witch is a threat to everything we hold dear. He killed Nick, remember?"
Singer scoffed, "That old bastard had it coming to him, that witch practically deserves a thank you."
Singer's boots pointed in Castiel's direction. He held his breath. Singer drew closer and closer before he knelt, making eye contact through the branches. Castiel shivered, ready to run if need be. But Singer simply winked at him before straightening up.
"Nothing here, John. It's like Dean said, witch threw the dogs off the scent by leaving his clothes behind."
As Singer walked away, Castiel's mind raced. Why had the old man covered for him? He didn't have much time to contemplate as the voices began to fade and the dogs stopped whining, trotting after the departing hunters. He could barely make out Singer's last remark directed at Dean.
"Let's head back to the village. Our work is done here. Dean, why don't you do one last scan of the perimeter? Maybe that'll help with your paranoia, right John?"
"Yessir," Dean said. Castiel braced himself as Dean's boots were now alone in the center of the clearing.
Dean knelt by the pile of clothes, gathering them into a neat bundle. He was careful, almost reverent, like a lover would be. Affection bloomed in Castiel's heart. Could this be why Singer had left Dean alone -- to give him a chance to say goodbye? Castiel didn't dare cry out despite the warmth spreading in his chest. What if he was wrong about Singer's motivations?
"Castiel? Are you still here?" Dean called out. His voice was soft and full of hope. Castiel knew he shouldn't trust it, knew it could be a trap to make killing him easier. But Castiel allowed hope to win over his pessimistic nature for once.
He stood, brushing the leaves and thorns from his body. "Dean? I don't understand, why are you here? Why did Singer cover for me? I don't want to get you in troub-"
In seconds Dean had crossed the space between them, silencing him with a kiss. Castiel slumped as the adrenaline of the hunt left him, replaced with the sheer joy of Dean's lips on his own. Dean lifted his hands to cradle the back of Castiel's neck, pressing their foreheads together.
"That's why," he whispered. "Cas, the second I heard about Nick and Ruby I knew it was you. Only one witch I know would be suicidal enough to risk it all to help some girl they barely knew. I wanted to buy you enough time to escape, but Bobby figured out I was the one leading the dogs the wrong way. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together with the way I've been lurking over at your shop."
"I thought you appreciated the quality of my teas," Castiel protested weakly. He knew it sounded like a feeble excuse, and it was. He knew exactly why Dean had come by so often. He simply couldn't believe that Dean Winchester of all people would want him like this.
Dean chuckled. "I mean, you do make one hell of a hangover cure. But I wasn't exactly there for the merchandise."
Castiel sighed, closing his eyes. "This is truly goodbye, then." Somehow it hurt even more knowing that the person he wanted so desperately wanted him too. They'd wasted so much time.
Dean pulled back, forcing Castiel to look at his face. His brow furrowed. "Why would this be goodbye? I'm leaving with you."
Castiel snapped to attention. "No, Dean, you can't. A witch's life is hard and dangerous, always on the run with nowhere to call home. I can't let you tether yourself to me and ruin your life."
Dean smiled as he wiped a stray patch of dirt from Castiel's face with his thumb. "It may surprise you, but you're not the only witch I have a soft spot for." He took Castiel's hand. "My brother Sam was born a witch too."
John Winchester had a witch for a son? Castiel was shocked. Dean continued, "Dad sent him away as soon as his powers started manifesting. He was maybe 16? Still sends me letters now and again. Last I heard, he was shacking up with some witch named Rowena over in Lebanon. I figured we could head there and live with their coven while we figure out our next move." He paused, eyes narrowing as he appeared to search Castiel's face for agreement. "That is... if you want to? I probably should have mentioned this sooner."
This time it was Castiel who surged forward to kiss Dean. In all his years, he'd never succeeded in making a pure soul like Dean consider giving in to his darker impulses. Truth be told, he hadn't found anyone worth the trouble. But seeing principled, innocent Dean Winchester blinking in the light of the lantern and pledging himself to Castiel in the darkness of the wood, the domain of witches... oh, that felt better than he ever could have imagined.
Dean broke their embrace first, leaning down to pick up the lantern. Castiel couldn't help the pleased grin on his face. Dean returned the look with a smirk of his own.
"What is it?" Dean teased as they started to walk.
Castiel squeezed Dean's hand. "Well, it's just... looking at you just now. For the first time, I feel truly... wicked."