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Commander Castiel had always been considered a peculiar man.

First there was his name. He had inherited his title and his estate from his father, Sir Castiel, an even more peculiar man himself. After the death of his wife in childbed, Sir Castiel left for India, never to be seen again.

His newborn heir had grown up in Devonshire at his aunt's estate, henceforth only known as Castiel Milton. Until he came of age. When he reached his seventeenth year, the young gentleman reclaimed his heritage, emancipating himself from his aunt, and from society.

Castiel Milton, hereafter Sir Castiel himself, was expected to study and attain the proper education of a gentleman. The young heir, however, after spending only a few months on his estate evading eager fathers in search of a husband for their daughters, contradicted everyone’s expectations of him once more. Fleeing his affluent life, he joined the Navy as a midshipman.

For years, Sir Castiel would not return to Angelfield Hall. Society already considered him a lost cause, seeing him following in his father’s footsteps when Commander Castiel returned from the war.

Broken and even more reclusive than ever after the Battle of Trafalgar, the commander had changed. Sir Castiel shunned society and was rarely seen at all.

His disinterest in finding himself a wife befuddled some. People started to talk, but no one could figure out the strange gentleman hidden away behind the walls of his own home. Soon, more exciting gossip boiled over in London and Bath, and the commander was forgotten by most.

Until he was not. When a scandal involving Sir Castiel’s disgraced cousin and a young noblewoman, who had not even been fully introduced into society, shook the centres of society at the end of the Season in 1808, word of it eventually reached Angelfield Hall.

It did not come as a surprise to the commander. Nicholas Milton had always been a scoundrel, despite being the favourite of his family, particularly of Sir Castiel’s aunt, even after claiming the devil’s name for himself. Yet, instead of his cousin, Castiel had become the black sheep of the family before leaving his aunt for good, never looking back.

Thus, Commander Castiel could not care less about the reputation of his family or his cousin in particular. He would not have given any further thought to the events if it had not been for the young beguiled woman. She was still unaccounted for when Lucifer reappeared at a London ball within the span of a month — in the company of the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Scotland.

As it was to be expected, the scandal was quickly passed over and no one seemed to care about Miss Kelly or her whereabouts. It finally roused Commander Castiel from his solitary.

Aware that his aunt would be the last person to help the deceived girl, the commander contacted Miss Kelly’s family only to discover that despite his anguish, her father had disowned her on account of her elopement. The commander’s pleading for forgiveness could not turn the father’s bitter heart.

Hence being on his own, Commander Castiel finally overcame his stupor and threw himself into the search of the young woman. It took him several months of travelling the whole country until his steadfastness turned out fruitful.

He found her with child, ill and penniless in a horrific place. Death and despair greeted him, and the stench of the workhouse proved worse than anything he had encountered during his time at sea.

Her poor state prevented them from returning to Angelfield Hall immediately. The commander would not risk her life or the life of her unborn child. Instead, he brought her to a nearby estate where he cared for her as best as he could, providing the best doctors and physicians money could buy.

However, not one of the gentlemen was in high hopes for her to survive the next weeks, least of all the birth itself. Miss Kelly’s fate was already sealed.

***

Castiel watched her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful. Bile burned his throat when he thought about the day he had brought her here. She had begged him not to leave her side, terrified he would be gone when she woke. How could anyone, even the devil himself, let her rot in that hellhole?

The months on her own had left deep marks on her body and on her mind. Even a week after coming here, to their refuge at the lake, a home from home, Miss Kelly’s eyes were fallen in. Her paper-like skin had a ghostly shade that left no doubt about her state. She was barely alive, but she was fighting. A new life was growing inside her, and she protected it with all her might. As much as Castiel tried to ignore the impressively enlarged abdomen, his eyes kept returning to the bump hidden under the covers.

He had never expected to see a woman like that. Some men like him, deviants — mollies — would decide to marry a woman, either in on the scheme or oblivious all their lives, and produced children with her, yet Castiel had always known that would never be the case for him. And after—

His breathing accelerated and he felt lightheaded. After—

Tears filled his eyes as he gripped the seat cover of his chair. Years of mourning had not helped him overcome his feelings. He would never love again. Not like that. Never love like he had loved during those few precious months at sea. Despite being forced to hide their love, for the first time in his life Castiel had been free. Free to be himself, and still loved and cherished as if nothing was wrong with him, as if—

The memories threatened to choke him, his grief raw like it had been on the first day. The day when Dean—

Castiel closed his eyes, compelling himself to breathe. Although it had been all but four years by now, the anguish was still piercing through him, as fresh as the day he lost him. The echo of the cannon sounded in his ears and he flinched. Looking down at his hands, they trembled and he clenched them into a fist.

“Commander?” Miss Kelly’s feeble voice barely managed to get his attention, but she came through. Tear streaks covered his face as he finally looked at her.

Castiel swallowed. “I’m sorry, Miss,” he heard himself say hoarsely. Instinctively, he sat straight and forced a smile on his face.

Miss Kelly’s eyes turned soft with understanding, and with the candidness of a dying woman she asked, “Who was she?”

Her words were like a dagger to his heart, ripping open a wound that had never properly healed. For years, he had mourned in secrecy, unable to share his sorrow, unable to forget. Another tear escaped him, and he turned away.

How could she know?

“Sir?” Miss Kelly sounded appalled by her own outspokenness. “Forgive me. I did not mean to pry. I—I have no idea what got into me to presume…”

Castiel took her hand in his and her eyes widened in shock. It startled him that after everything she had gone through, the customs and stupid rules of society were still imprinted so deeply on her mind.

Lowering his eyes, he pulled back. “Forgive me, Miss Kelly. I never meant to cause you distress.”

“Sir, please.” Her hand searched his and, when she found it, she held on. “You did not… Though, I am no fool. I know I am dying. I just hope my child…” She gulped before continuing, a tear running down her shallow face. “Sir, I owe you everything. Everyone shunned me, but you… You were looking for me. You never gave up on me and you found me. You brought me here and gave me this, despite—despite…” Her voice gave out and silence engulfed them when she abruptly sat up. “Sir, I fell from society,” she announced vigorously, only to fall weekly back into her pillows. Yet, she still smiled when her eyes found Castiel’s, adding, “So, please, there is nothing to hide from me. I am as good as dead. I will not be able to tell anyone on Earth about your secret until Heaven takes me home. Please, Commander. After everything… I’m in no position to judge you.”

Castiel huffed. “Yet you are,” he admitted sadly. “If I conceded the truth, you would rather wish to be back in the workhouse than to share a roof with me.” He tried to pull his hand away, but Miss Kelly held on with a strength she should not possess.

“There is nothing that will shock me anymore, Commander. I know I am asking too much of you, but there is nothing that will forfend my fate. When I am gone, my child will have no mother. As you already know there never was a father, and—” She sniffed, obviously holding back her tears.

“Miss Kelly…”

She shook her head. “Commander, Sir, please, when I am gone, promise me you will care of my child. You are a good man.”

Castiel shook his head. “You are mistaken. If you ever learned…” He swallowed, having already said too much. She was not allowed to know. And yet, Miss Kelly’s eyes turned pleading.

“Please, Commander. You are the only one I trust.”

“You should not,” Castiel replied distantly, but it still did nothing to break Miss Kelly’s pleas. If anything, her gaze turned determined, and Castiel realised that she deserved to know everything. He owed her as much. He owed it to her unborn child, the one she wanted him to look after. She needed to know because it was her right to make an informed decision.

Silence filled the room while Castiel was preparing himself for his imminent doom. His heartbeat accelerated. Breathing became a challenge, and sweat covered his skin. He had fought seemingly forlorn battles at sea, weathered fatal storms, and lost half of his men in the plague. Yet, never had his life been on edge as it was now. Not even when he had kissed his aide and subordinate offhand.

Adoring green eyes appeared in front of his inner eye and Castiel could feel the memory of gentle fingertips ghosting over his heated skin, calming him. Lifting his eyes, he stared at Miss Kelly when he admitted his unthinkable truth, “I am a deviant. I—I’m…” His voice stuttered and broke but he forced himself to continue. He huffed. “You should rather have inquired ‘Who was he?’”

His words were still ringing in his ears when an eerie silence shrouded them. Time seemed to stand still. Miss Kelly’s eyes had grown wide in shock. She was gaping at him, her hand covering her mouth, but she did not flinch. Instead, she tightened her grip on Castiel’s hand. Frozen stiff, he was dreading her verdict, her inevitable wrath.

However, nothing suchlike occurred. Her eyes turned soft, and she granted him a gentle smile. Carefully, as if testing the waters, her thumb moved over the back of his hand. “What was his name?” Miss Kelly asked with a tenderness, Castiel did not deserve.

A sob ripped through him, and he could not hold back the tears he had shed in solitude for years. It had been far too long since he had lost him.

“Dean,” he whispered his confession.

“He must have been very lucky to have you.”

Miss Kelly’s sympathy opened the floodgates. She listened intently, and, for the first time, Castiel talked about the love he lost to the sea. During all this, she did not judge him once; she rather encouraged him to go on.

And thus, he did. Enlivened by her compassion, he talked about his forbidden love for Ensign Winchester, about their plans for a future that never was supposed to be. He talked until Miss Kelly’s eyelids drooped. Eventually, her exhaustion overwhelmed her and sleep took her in.

Castiel watched her for a long time after she had fallen asleep. After everything he had related to her, he felt raw, and yet, she still was intent on entrusting him with the care of her unborn child.

Over the following weeks, Miss Kelly’s health proved stable thanks to the intensive care of her doctors and Castiel himself. Nevertheless, no one was under the delusion that she would survive childbed. Even her survival thus far was a miracle itself, least of all the prospect of giving birth to a healthy child.

Castiel rarely left her side. Whenever Miss Kelly was in the condition to talk, they spent hours in conversation. She wanted to know everything about his years on sea, and about Dean. Having never shared this part of his life with anyone, Castiel selfishly embraced the opportunity.

Their acquaintance quickly turned into a profound friendship and an idea, self-serving as it was, developed on Castiel’s mind. It would serve them both, yet he still felt guilty about his motives, although Miss Kelly would certainly understand and humour them.

If he was honest to himself, Castiel had made up his mind for some time, weeks even. As much as his feelings had led him astray, it proved to be the logical conclusion. Without asking for Miss Kelly’s consent first of all, he had prepared the necessary steps. Too strong was his confidence in her approval.

Therefore, the next day, Castiel ended the narrative of Dean and his plans for the future rather abruptly, when he elaborated his plans, “My dearest Miss Kelly, I have mourned my love in secrecy for years. You, of all people, are all too aware why I never entertained the thought of taking a wife for my own. Though, despite such reasoning and my obvious deviant behaviour, would you, loveliest Ann, consent of doing me the honour of becoming my wife? I promise you I will care for your child as it was my own. Through our bond, your child will be my official heir and I will raise it in Angelfield Hall in your loving memory.” Tears streamed down his face, knowing what he was asking of his friend.

However, Miss Kelly was beaming at him through tears of her own. “Yes, Sir” —Castiel raised his brow challengingly and Ann laughed when she corrected herself— “Castiel. Yes, of course, I will gladly become your wife. I could wish for nothing more than my child growing up with you as their father. It is a dream come true. I would have never dared entertain such frivolous hope.”

Castiel smiled sadly before admitting, “I must be honest to you, my dear Ann. You are certainly aware of my rather selfish reasons. As much as I will grieve you, I will embrace the opportunity to mourn my dearest Dean. Yet, I promise you, your child will have everything it needs. I will make sure of it.

“I know. I have no doubt you will raise my child as your own with all the love you can give.” Feebly, she cupped his jaw and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You should have been allowed to mourn your lost love openly years ago as everyone else. None of it is selfish. God Almighty created you as you are, and no one should stand above a God-given nature. It should be your right. As long as you remember me as well, I am content. Everyone who takes you as their husband is very lucky, and I will cherish the little time we will have left.”

Thus, their engagement was arranged. Within an hour, a parson took their vows and, henceforth, Commander Castiel and the former Miss Ann Kelly were husband and wife. It was not a moment too soon. During the night, Miss Kelly went into labour and at the same time the next day, she gave birth to a healthy son.

Her own health, however, declined rapidly. At first, she was holding her infant child by herself, but on the hour, her strength diminished, and Castiel took the little boy in his arms. He was still amazed and terrified by the life he was now responsible for.

Tears streamed down his face when Miss Kelly reached for him and smiled at them with one last burst of vigour. “Thank you, Castiel. For everything. Take care of my boy. Tell him I love him. Tell him…”

Castiel took her hand, yet her spirit and soul had already abandoned her body, leaving nothing behind but a haunting silence. Carefully, he closed her dulled eyes before placing a kiss on her forehead.

An empty darkness embraced his heart as he held wake, pulling him in, when a cry pierced the night. Roused from his fathomless grief, Castiel remembered. For the first time, he beheld the helpless infant in his arms.

“I will,” he pledged to her absent soul and the weeping boy. “I promise, I will.”

***

Doubts about his vow grew inside Castiel when he handed off the child to the wet-nurse. Like father, like son. Though, unlike his father, he would not abandon his ward — his son.

Jack.

Miss Kelly had christened him with one of her last breaths and Castiel would do everything in his might to love him as his own. Thus, it was his responsibility to care for his needs. Unable to feed him by himself, Castiel had found a good woman to ensure Jack’s survival.

Mrs. Mills had lost everything when an illness took her husband and infant son within a week. With nothing left behind in her village, she was willing to leave with Castiel for Angelfield Hall and care for Jack despite her own loss.

She was strong, and Castiel could not be more thankful for her commitment. And, within weeks, he discovered the reasoning behind her taking care of others. Simply being around Jack dulled the pain he had felt for years.

His son would not bring Dean or Miss Kelly back, but he gave a new meaning to Castiel’s life. For the first time since he stepped down from his post on the Angel’s Grace and in the Navy, maybe even in his entire life, he had a responsibility that was not bound by duty. The love he felt for the tiny human grew every day.

Castiel could not fathom how his father and his aunt had not been overwhelmed by that love. Each time he was watching Mrs. Mills and Jack, he could see it shining in her eyes, despite her overwhelming grief for her own family.

With a child to look out for, Castiel’s perception of time changed. Summer quickly turned into autumn, and the anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar was near. For once, Jack’s presence would not soothe him. The anguish for Castiel’s loss all those years ago paralyzed him, and nothing could rouse him from his endless darkness.

His staff already knew better than to bother him during the third week of October. Mrs. Mills, however, seemed to have no such qualms. On October 21st she confronted him in the library where Castiel had withdrawn from the world.

“Sir—”

Castiel glared at her, but she stepped nearer.

“Commander—”

He winced. People occasionally called him by his military rank, but he preferred to forget about it. About everything...

“You listen to me, Commander.”

“Mrs. Mills,” Castiel finally growled at her. “You are treading thin ice. This is none of your—”

“None of my business?” She huffed. “You really think so? Well, think again, Sir.”

The fire in her eyes struck right into Castiel’s heart. Too similar was her defiance of authority. As he had told her, she was treading thin ice, but still, she managed not to overstep. A trait in character very similar to Dean. Too similar.

Thrown back in time, Castiel crumbled. All resistance was broken, and he listened to her words.

“I don’t know what happened to you at Trafalgar, Commander. You might have fought a battle and lost men dear to you, but I won’t take any of your grieving shit. Look at me. You might have lost men, but I’ve lost my family. You think this is easy?” Mrs. Mills laughed. “Seeing Jack every day after losing Owen? Watching him with you after losing Sean?”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered, aware that she was right. Although her knowledge of his loss was very limited, and lacked the essential part.

Mrs. Mills glowered at him. “I don’t need your pity, Sir.”

“I know you don’t.”

“But do you know who needs your attention? Your son. He still has a father, and he needs him. Even now. Even though you’re currently pretending to be like every other wealthy arsehole…”

Castiel raised his brow, and Mrs. Mills smirked before lowering her head and correcting herself, “Excuse me, Sir — gentleman…”

For the first time in days, Castiel smiled. Encouraged by his reaction, Mrs. Mills went on, “Gentlemen and women, who dump their offspring on governesses and servants to dawdle. Yet, when I look at you, brooding and hiding behind your books and papers, you are still nothing like them. You need Jack. More than ever. Your wife is gone. Your men are lost at sea. They’re dead, Sir. Nothing you do will bring them back. Yet your son lives, Commander. He lives, and he needs you. You are a good man, Sir, and your wife wouldn’t want you to mourn all day.”

His wife. Castiel huffed. If Mrs. Mills only knew the truth. However, he was not allowed to tell her, or anyone else for the matter. He did not dare. Miss Kelly had already been dying when he confessed his deviance.

Yet, Mrs. Mills was right. Neither Miss Kelly nor Dean would have wanted him to neglect Jack in order to mourn them. Both Dean and Castiel had suffered enough due to the absence of mourning fathers during their childhood. Castiel would not be like them. He would not repeat the errors of his ancestors. Jack deserved his full attention.

Nodding at his servant, Castiel rose from his chair.

“You’re welcome, Commander,” Mrs. Mills called after him when he left the room.

He should have thanked her properly, but someone else needed his attention more urgently. When he reached the nursery, Jack was sleeping soundly. Though, it did not stop Castiel from sitting next to him and watching him.

His weary heart lifted at the sight, and his tongue loosened. Castiel started to talk. He told his sleeping son the story about a brave man, a soldier who was lifted from the ranks and became an officer. A man, who had never belonged, until he did. Until Castiel had found him. Until they had found each other. He told his son the story of Ensign Dean Winchester.

***

Autumn turned into winter. Christmas came and went by, and before long, another summer arrived. Jack was walking by now, and to Castiel’s utter horror, his first word was Dean. Castiel immediately refrained from telling his son about the man he had loved so dearly, was still loving, and returned to remembering him in silence.

It hurt his heart not to be allowed to talk to his son about the man Castiel would have loved to see him as a father, as Jack’s father. He yearned to see Dean interact with his son, teach him, like he must have taught his little brother all those years ago in the filthy streets of London.

Dean’s brother. Sam. Once again, Castiel was reminded that he had not contacted him after his return from sea. Sam deserved to know about Dean’s fate, and yet, Castiel had never been able to bring himself to face the man himself. Dean was gone, and as much as Castiel wanted to acquaint himself with Dean’s family, he had no right to introduce himself to their life.

They were oblivious about Castiel, and were probably better off never making his acquaintance. Besides, too many years had gone by. What kind of commanding officer was he to trudge into their lives, years after an incident at sea, a battle that claimed thousands of souls. He had no right to intrude into their lives.

Once again, Castiel channelled his grief inwards. With every step Jack took, however, literally and figuratively speaking, his agony weakened.

Mrs. Mills — Jody — left his household eventually. After having become a dear friend to Castiel, he aided her to find a little cottage not far from his estate — a place where she intended to care for young women in need. Whatever their history, not one of them should suffer the same way as Miss Kelly had after being betrayed by a man and disowned by her own family.

However, Mrs. Mills would not become a stranger. She often called at Angelfield Hall, and when she heard of a young woman of Irish descent, incapable of hearing, she introduced her to Castiel.

Miss Leahy quickly rose in Castiel’s favour. Although she started out as an underhand for Mrs. Baker, his housekeeper, Castiel noticed her potential. Miss Leahy was educated and very well-behaved. Yet, she never showed hesitation against any assigned task, how hard and unworthy of her education it might be.

An idea took shape in Castiel's mind. With Jack growing up by the day, he would soon need a governess. A deaf governess was a gamble, yet, once again, Castiel let himself be led by his selfishness.

Miss Leahy would be Jack’s closest companion in his household. Joshua, his steward, and Mrs. Baker would still be around, but they rarely were close to Jack for a longer time than necessary. Thus, with Miss Leahy incapable of hearing, Castiel still might…

The consideration was too daring. Nevertheless, Castiel could not disregard it. His secret would stay safe, even if Castiel grew weak once in a while, talking about the man he still loved more than anything — anything, except for Jack.

While Castiel did not grow weak, Miss Leahy, however, became an essential and very dear member of the household. Although deaf, she was not voiceless. On the contrary, she spoke English, Irish, was educated in French and German, and used a language of signs for communication. Castiel had read about such a way of communication during his long years of seclusion, yet never encountered anyone proficient in it. Rather than disregarding her unique skill like many others had before, he embraced it, and requested her to teach him and Jack.

Not only did the common language form a significant sympathy between Miss Leahy and Castiel, it tightened the bond between father and son. Castiel was at par with Jack, both condisciples in their attempt to learn Miss Leahy’s language. Even at a young age, it offered them a way to communicate more easily than speech would have allowed it.

Jack swiftly became fluent. He loved Miss Leahy dearly, and spent hours with her in the library and on the grounds. Castiel often accompanied them. The darkness that had shrouded his heart for years lifted incrementally, and although the memory of Dean still hurt, he was thankful for the short period of time he had been allowed to be with him.

Castiel still followed the news from the war raging on the continent. By now, British troops were fighting their way from Portugal through Spain. The public picked up tales of war heroes, one story more fantastical than the other.

Especially one officer, clearly mythical, reappeared in many tales. He was told of having captured a French Imperial Eagle, the standard of the Grande Armée, above all things. Over the years, he became a legend among the public. Castiel, however, preferred the factual news and paid little regard to questionable tales society loved so much.

If he had, he might have caught the name of said officer earlier. A name that was grievously familiar. It was not meant to be, however.

While the war raged on the continent, years went by in peace in Angelfield Hall. Aside from occasional visits to London and Bath, Castiel remained at his estate and watched his son grow up into a fine boy.

Jack loved the world, and every single one of God’s creatures. Even at his young age, he accompanied Castiel on long walks through the countryside. Together they explored the world. Castiel educated him about nature and the unjust social hierarchy they benefited from — unlike Dean and his brother, or Miss Kelly after her family cast her out when she fell in disgrace.

Her son listened intently, and devised a worldview that was a lot more distinguished than anything Castiel had adapted for himself. Despite his complicated upbringing Castiel still had grown up in wealth. He might have never learned what it felt like to love and to be loved until he met Dean, but he had never been forced to endure poverty. Even at sea, Castiel had been used to a certain standard of living. He had been privileged all his life. Dean on the other hand…

Castiel’s heart yearned. Not for the first time, he pictured Dean accompanying them on their walks or coming up to them after a ride.

Jack’s little face would light up in joy at the sight as he sprinted towards the other man, clad in garments Castiel had never seen him wear. Dean’s smile would mirror Jack’s and mend Castiel’s battered heart.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed out. Only when Jack squeezed Castiel’s hand, he discerned his error.

Jack stopped and glanced at Castiel enquiringly, his head tilted. It was a habit he must have picked up from Castiel who swallowed, anticipating his son’s query.

“You oftentimes mention a gentleman by that name, father.”

Castiel could not help but smile. “Do I indeed, Jack?”

His son nodded eagerly.

“It would have amused Dean greatly if he had heard you call him a gentleman,” Castiel admitted.

Jack’s eyes grew wide. “Why?” he cried out in amazement.

Castiel chuckled at the shocked expression on his son’s face. “Not everyone is born a gentleman, Jack. And Dean” —Castiel’s heart always hurt when he thought about the unjustness— “was anything but that. He was a fellow soldier, and a dearly beloved friend.”

“The dearest,” Jack concluded proudly.

“The dearest friend I’ve ever had, indeed,” Castiel confirmed as Jack nodded in acknowledgement. Tears pricked Castiel’s eyes, but he fought them to keep his composure. It was bad enough that his tongue had slipped once again and talked about the man who never left his thoughts, and his heart.

***

After the Battle of Paris and Napoleon’s abdication, the tales of the war eventually died down. Castiel visited London several times in 1814 without encountering an anecdote. Yet, when he returned in May 1815, his life was altered irrevocably.

As it was, Castiel was contemplating the peculiar disappearance of his neighbour Lady Celeste after her brother had returned to the continent to join the army again, following Napoleon’s bold return from Elba. One disappearance would not have made him suspicious, if it had not been for the frequency of the occurrence. Besides, he still was convinced that only one child of the Lord and Lady of Middleton had survived infancy — a girl.

Therefore, Castiel nearly missed his acquaintances’ chatter about society’s most darling officer, when a name pierced through his self-imposed inattentiveness.

“…Major Winchester—”

“I heard he is a lieutenant colonel now, thanks to the Prince of Orange.”

“Of course, the Dutch. Whoever pulled him from the ranks…”

Castiel’s heart fluttered. As much he tried to listen attentively, blood rushed through his body and he only caught snippets of the conversation.

“Wasn’t it Old Nosey himself?”

“Colonel Winchester? Colonel Dean Winchester?” Castiel heard himself blurt out.

“My dear Commander,” Mr. Harrington bellowed, “where did you hide these last years?”

“Under a stone, Harrington,” Mr. Cartwright quipped. “Only Castiel would be so ignorant of the hero of Talavera.”

“Talavera?” Castiel echoed. “That was six years ago.”

“Indeed.” Mr. Cartwright nodded. He went on about the war, but Castiel trailed off, his heart and mind racing.

Dean. Dean was alive. He was a Colonel. A Lieutenant Colonel.

Breathing hard while his head turned, Castiel leant against the next best wall.

Dean lived.

“Are you alright, Sir?” a servant inquired, and Castiel nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I am alright. Thank you. Better than alright, indeed.” He smiled. For the first time since that doomed day all those years ago, the weight on his shoulders, on his heart, had disappeared.

When the servant withdrew, Castiel had already made up his mind. He would travel to the continent to join the war.

***

It broke Castiel’s heart to leave his son behind, but his decision was set in stone. Within a day, he had persuaded an old acquaintance to put in a good word for him with Whitehall and, within hours, received notice to join Wellington’s staff as soon as possible.

Deciding against returning to Angelfield Hall, Castiel sent word home before leaving for the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. Jack would be fine without him for the time being, yet Castiel could not live another day without laying eyes on Dean again. What if—

He did not dare to imagine what might happen if he arrived too late. Dean might have survived against all odds throughout all those years on the battlefield, but he soon would fight another battle.

For weeks, Castiel heard only rumours about the illustrious, yet resented colonel. Dean seemed like a ghost, a myth, even among his fellow officers. He never appeared in society, evading the ridiculous balls the noble held almost every other day in Brussels.

And then, one night, the sound of cannons shook the foundations of the city. Napoleon’s army had arrived at the battlefield. Unable to sleep, Castiel stayed at the headquarters all day before joining another ball at night.

“Commander,” someone hastily approached him. “I noticed you have inquired about the whereabouts of Colonel Winchester. I am afraid to tell you—”

“Oh, God,” Castiel exclaimed, knowing deep in his heart that he had lost him for good.

“Sir, he is not dead. Not yet,” the aide added sheepishly, and Castiel grabbed the young lieutenant by his lapels.

“Where is he?” he said, glaring at the boy who shuddered under Castiel’s vigorousness. Appalled by himself, Castiel let go.

“At the hospital,” the aide murmured. “He is severely injured, but…”

Castiel did not listen to him as he rushed out.

***

Ten years. Castiel trembled when he rushed through endless rows of agony and gore. Men screamed as nurses and surgeons attempted to help the wounded and soothe the ones already condemned to death. None of them were officers, though.

“Colonel Winchester?” he inquired and a nurse nodded towards a room ahead.

Blood covered the floor and the smell was worse than aboard his ship during the peak of the plague. His stomach rebelled, yet Castiel fought through. A surgeon stepped aside, and then, he saw him.

Dean.

Castiel’s blood froze in his veins, and he forgot how to breathe. Swaying on his feet, nausea gripped him while hope blossomed in his heart.

Despite the years spent apart, despite a decade on the battlefield, Dean looked so peaceful and the sight curdled Castiel’s blood before his heartbeat sped up. It felt like no day had passed since he had lost him. Dread and hope mingled as years of despair plummeted from his shoulders. He yearned to be near him, yearned to hold him. Clenching his fists, Castiel forced his feet to keep still, to keep himself from hurrying to Dean’s side.

“Sir,” someone approached him, yet Castiel did not pay them attention. Dean was there. Dean was here. He was alive, and Castiel could not allow himself to lose his composure.

“How bad is he?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Time will show, Sir. There’s not much to be done for him now. But you need to go now.”

“Then I will take him with me. I will not leave without him.”

“Sir—” the young lieutenant tried to argue, but Castiel stared him down.

“My card,” he said coarsely, “I await him at my place as soon as possible. I expect you can arrange the transport. Am I understood?”

“Sir—”

“Lieutenant, that’s an order.”

The young man straightened. “Yes, Sir,” he gritted out, saluted and turned around.

“You won’t do nothing with the Colonel,” another voice grumbled behind Castiel, deep and threatening.

“Oh, won’t I?” Castiel dared whoever stood between him and Dean.

A burly Sergeant Major glowered at Castiel who was awed by the man’s loyalty to Dean. “Damn right, Sir.”

“And why is that, Sergeant Major?” Castiel lifted an eyebrow and the other man grinned.

“You gotta go through me, Sir.”

“You’d fight an officer to protect him?”

The sergeant shrugged and grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir. Although you’ve no idea what I’ve done for him already. Surgeon’s order, Sir. The colonel stays.”

The sergeant’s brashness irritated Castiel, yet his devotion was remarkable, so he connived the man’s disobedience and humoured him. “Even if I avouch a better treatment than he’ll get in this place?”

“It’s a ffycin cachdy,” the sergeant grumbled, only to add, “A fucking shithole, Sir.”

Castiel chuckled. “I cannot fault you there, Sergeant.”

“Sergeant Major Lafitte, Commander.” Sergeant Lafitte saluted. “What’s a Navy officer doing in Brussels anyway?”

Castiel swallowed before admitting the truth. “I was looking for a dear old friend.” His eyes wandered towards Dean. “And I finally found him.”

***

For a week, Dean’s condition barely improved. The bullet had severely injured his thigh. Although Castiel had commissioned the best doctors in town, who assured him of Dean’s remarkable recovery, he dreaded the worst as the days went by. Dean would not wake up, and Castiel rarely left his side.

Doubts and anxiousness filled Castiel’s waking hours, and harrowed him at night. Even if Dean awoke from his torpor, Castiel was ignorant of the amount of Dean’s feelings towards him, if any remained after ten long and eventful years.

Sergeant Major Lafitte’s frequent visits fuelled Castiel’s worst suspicions. The sergeant’s loyalty was far more than a sergeant’s dedication towards his commanding officer. However, Lieutenant Bradbury, an officer who had served under the colonel and obviously a dear friend of Dean, reassured Castiel of the deep friendship between the two men.

Pulled from the ranks, the colonel had never belonged. According to the lieutenant, Sergeant Lafitte had been the colonel’s closest companion since his early days as a captain. Based on years spent together on the battlefield their irregular bond had grown ever since.

Moreover, from the first moment of their acquaintance, the lieutenant construed Castiel’s turbulent emotional state for what it was. Yet, since Castiel had already been aware of the lieutenant’s guise for some time, either secret was safe in the hands of the other. As it turned out, Lieutenant Bradbury, the Lady of Middleton, became a fast and dear friend. She calmed Castiel’s fears until the moment Dean finally opened his eyes.

After years of mourning, Castiel felt alive again. It was as if nothing had changed between them. Their bond had endured throughout a decade. Despite the hardship they both had suffered apart, the bond they had once shared had in fact tightened.

Only Dean’s poor state of health and the presence of their friends during their journey home prevented them from consuming their reunion right away. The yearning intensified until they eventually arrived at Angelfield Hall. Nothing stood between them anymore. Within the walls of their future home, they finally allowed themselves to be as free as anyone like them could be.

***

Not even Jack would stand between them. The boy’s initial bashfulness towards the peculiar colonel vanished the moment he learned that the colonel was none other than the Dean of Castiel’s tales. Jack welcomed his father’s dearest friend enthusiastically in their home, and their lives.

In fact, Jack never questioned the blossoming relationship between the two men. Instead, he swiftly embraced Dean as a member of their family. The commander’s heart burst with joy when he first laid eyes on his son and the man he had thought to have lost to the sea all those years ago, walking hand in hand over the grounds.

With the arrival of Sam Winchester, and his ensuing engagement with Miss Leahy, their family grew. Moreover, they were fortunate to have a staff that was not only quietly accepting their deviance, but also fully supporting and sheltering them from the dangers society posed to their kind.

After the colonel’s return, the commander could no longer hide the nature of their relationship from another close friend. Mrs. Mills joined the little circle of those in the know about the extent of their happiness, and together with the help of Lady Celeste and her lovely wife Gilda, Jack’s former wet-nurse expanded her endeavour to create a safe place for mistreated young women to give them the chance for a better life.

***

“You look happy, Commander,” Dean whispered as he nuzzled Castiel’s ear.

Castiel smiled, watching their son talk vividly with Eileen and Sam outside in the garden. For a moment, his thoughts returned to Miss Kelly until his eyes found Dean’s. Dean licked his lips and Castiel wondered how he could have ever been without him. “I am, Colonel. I am very happy.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna show you how happy you make me.”

“Is that a promise?” Castiel teased.

“Damn right it is, Cas.”

***

A life Commander Castiel had finally found for himself.