Chapter Text
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago…or so it goes, there lived two young boys. There was nothing particularly special about these two boys. They were not the offspring of gods, or dryads, or any of the many strange creatures that lived in their world. They were simply, completely and totally human.
The two boys grew, as young boys are wont to do, and as they did they grew equally in strength and beauty. Though it was often said that the elder of the two was the more beautiful, it was the younger who drew the unfortunate attention of the local priest. It was in his eighteenth year when a priest of Lucifer made the unfortunate comparison between his god and the young man, declaring the young human even greater in grace and beauty than his own patron.
This, as everyone knows, is a terrible thing to do. Through no fault of his own, except perhaps what fault can be attributed to one for being young and attractive and enhancing these natural gifts through such things as exercise and a penchant for healthy foods, this young man attracted the ire of a God. For the gods are fickle things, and rather than directing his anger at the disciple who made the unfortunate comparison, he instead chose to direct his displeasure towards that hapless mortal who had inspired the priest’s ardor.
Sam, as this young man was known, was not at first aware of this unfortunate circumstance. He was not to learn of it for several years, when he began to court a young woman by the name of Jessica. She was clever and fair and, in the words of his brother, Dean, perfect in every way except for the incurable mental affliction which caused her to prefer Sam over any other. However, their union was not to be. Mere days before he had planned his proposal, she was killed in a fire, leaving Sam heartbroken, and wondering if he had done something to incur the wrath of the fates.
It was barely a year later before his suspicions were truly raised. After all, while unfortunate, a single event could be attributed to natural causes. However, when Sam’s next attempt at courting concluded in the discovery of a monster living in their village and with a far more violent end to their courtship than is generally desired, he began to truly suspect he might be cursed.
It took one final disaster to have him convinced, but even Sam could no longer call it bad luck when his latest paramour turned out to be a sorceress who attempted to trick him into raising monsters from the very pit of Tartarus itself. Sam finally realised he was cursed in love and was determined to find out why.
Luckily for Sam, oracles and priests were rather better informed in those days than our current sad times, and it didn’t take him long to find an answer. Lucifer had cursed him to only ever find love in monstrous forms. Despair filled him at this news, but he knew better than to argue with a god. He thanked the priests respectfully, as was only polite, and returned home, resignation added to the weight of despair he already carried.
It was unfortunate for Sam that it had been that same priest from years before whose temple he had visited to receive answers. It was even more unfortunate that in the intervening years, Sam’s beauty had only increased, while the priest’s idiocy seemed only to have grown, for he once again repeated his previous opinion, favorably comparing the young man to the god he served so unfaithfully.
If not for the priest’s ignorant adherence to his opinion, that might have been the end of it. For even the god was not above being moved by the young man’s despair, and his polite manners. But to once again hear the opinion, which had first so enraged him, uttered a second time reignited his wrath. He immediately called once more for his brother, Gabriel.
Gabriel came unwillingly enough. For as a god himself, he knew surely what his brother would ask of him again. It was he who sent forth the golden arrows, striking the young man and condemning him to love that which was monstrous. It was not a task he relished. He had no ill will towards the unlucky mortal who had drawn his brother’s ire, and did not enjoy the tasks he had set him.
In fact, on his first attempt, he had been so moved by pity that he had intentionally mistimed his shot, instead gifting the mortal a suitable match. However, his brother had discovered his deception and rectified the situation. It was then that the god of love had discovered that he did not enjoy having the deaths of innocents on his conscience, and had not tried again to foil his brother in his petty vendetta.
As expected, Lucifer once again compelled Gabriel to use his powers to bind the mortal to a suitably monstrous being. It was with heavy wings that Gabriel made his way once more into the mortal’s bedchamber. He could not refuse his brother’s command for fear of retribution, but it pained him to do this task. As the god of love, he found no joy in bringing sorrow. Even his arrows seemed to grow heavy in his hand as he brought them forth to prick the sleeping man.
As he stood, caught in melancholic contemplation, a noise startled him, almost causing him to prick his own hand with the golden tip. The noise also roused the slumbering mortal, enough for him to turn his face upwards towards the god. Not for the first time, Gabriel could not help but agree with the priest who had caused this mess in the first place with his incautious words. Sam was beautiful enough to tempt even a god. And that was when the god came up with his best trick yet. For who more monstrous than he for the boy to fall for? Certainly more fitting than the maid he had intended, the one who was secretly an empuse in disguise.
Task complete, in the strictest sense of his word, Gabriel retired as Sam woke to be accosted by his brother who demanded an explanation. Sam had been too overcome with melancholy to face his brother with the news of his curse. He knew his brother would be incensed and he was right.
Unlike Sam, who had always had a measure of faith, even respect for the gods, Dean was regularly blasphemous and irreverent and this occasion proved no different. He railed against Lucifer’s curse, raging against the unfair god.
It did not take long before he was interrupted by a booming voice that mocked and snarled, curling with an unseen sneer. It informed the brothers in no uncertain terms that Lucifer’s curse was very much still in effect and would remain so. In fact the next monster would level the kingdom if Sam did not consent to leave immediately to meet it.
The brothers were brave, able warriors and steadfast in the face of danger. But even they quailed slightly at the voice. Even so, silence had barely descended before their argument began. Sam was ready to walk out the door that moment, to spare his friends and family. Dean was equally determined to keep his brother safe. But after too much time spent on angry words, in the end, the younger brother won out, as was inevitable.
And so brave Sam packed a bag, said swift farewells to his friends and family, a more lengthy good bye to his brother, and set off for the hills as instructed. There, after many hours of walking, he came upon the hill that bore a striking resemblance to a bear, and there he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, the warm sun and soft grass made him drowsy. After a restless night his eyes were drooping and he finally succumb to sleep, still grumbling about monsters and their abysmal lack of punctuality.
When he awoke, the sun was setting and he was no longer outside on the hill. He was now in a magnificent dining hall, larger than anything he had ever seen. Before him, an enormous table, large enough to hold at least a hundred was set for only one. Sam moved cautiously towards it, and was only a little startled to find that his clothes had been changed to ones far more luxurious, and that the chair was moved out in anticipation as he got closer.
It seemed he had left his disbelief behind him on that hill, for nothing about the evening surprised him. Not the invisible servant who waited on him, not the food that appeared to his liking as soon as he thought of it, or the cup that refilled itself. Perhaps that fact was enough to explain Sam’s strange behavior, for he had grabbed that cup first of all, intending to drain it dry before realizing that was impossible. Nor was the wine watered as he was used to. In short, Sam was rather inebriated before the meal had even started and as soon as he noticed the fact, he resolved to remain so for as long as possible.
Night descended as the meal ended, plunging the room into inky darkness. Sam was still nursing his cup, reluctant to let it go, even as invisible hands plucked it fingers. Those same hands gently gathered him up, lifting him to his feet and supporting his rather unsteady steps through the darkness.
There were no candles lit, not even starlight peeking through the windows to illuminate his path. Yet Sam was not surprised when he found himself dropped unceremoniously upon something soft that felt suspiciously like a bed. He gave no resistance as those invisible hands slipped under the hem of his tunic, dragging it over his head, nor when those nimble fingers started tugging at his belt and boots. He knew the bargain he had struck.
In fact, it wasn’t until he felt a blanket pulled over his vulnerable flesh and a pillow tucked under his head that he allowed himself to feel anything at all through the numb haze he had hidden behind. But when he tried to form words out of his fuzzy thoughts, he was shushed gently by the same disembodied voice, though much quieter now, and no longer disembodied. For that was definitely the weight of something pressed against his side, and the breath from that same something ghosting over his face.
In the end, comfort and wine won out. Sam was too exhausted to fight the pull of sleep, and as nothing seemed to be required of him this night, he sunk gratefully into sleeps sweet embrace.
When he awoke, sunlight was streaming in from high windows, and there was nothing to betray the presence of another being in his bed. For the briefest moment, Sam attempted to puzzle out why he was able to see the sky through those windows now in the daylight, but not the night before. It took him only a moment to discount it as just another magical aspect of his new home.
He found food waiting for him when he found his way back to the large dining hall. Further exploration throughout the day uncovered a library larger than any he had ever seen, more books than he could ever hope to read in a lifetime. Another room held a gallery of paintings, and yet another a row of weapons. When nothing forbade his movements, he took down a sword hat was weighted to his liking and practiced, aware more than ever of the importance of maintaining his skills. The afternoon he spent quietly reading. Whenever he grew hungry, he wandered back to the dining hall to find a meal waiting for him.
In this way he whiled away the hours. He made no attempt to escape, or even set foot outside of the castle. Sam was very clever and knew that a prison did not need chains or bars to make it so. He contended himself with the amusements that were provided, until darkness fell.
As the castle fell to shadows, the being reappeared, as much as anything can be said to appear in blinding darkness. This time though, the being spoke, enquiring after his health and happiness. The last drew a soft bark of laughter, but further pressing had Sam speaking for the first time all day. More than he’d intended, the hours whittled away by amusing conversation with his captor until he was yawning as much as speaking and those gentle hands prompted him back towards the bedroom.
In full possession of his faculties this time, Sam knew enough to be wary, but the ritual of the night before repeated itself. He was undressed only enough to be comfortable for sleep before blankets and pillows were pressed against him, only then followed by the now familiar weight of his companion. And once again, Sam proved that he was more than just a pretty face by not questioning that which he had no desire to change.
In this manner the weeks flew by. Sam found himself alone each morning and through the day, left to his own devices. He had gained permission to wander the grounds and often spent the days lying in the sunshine. Only as darkness fully descended and he was left blind and groping in the dark did those gentle hands reach for him, steadying him easily, and that teasing voice fill his head. Sam slowly found himself anticipating his evenings, enjoying the playful banter, rising to the challenge in that mocking tone.
They spoke of many things, of books and laws, of gods and monsters and men. Sam gave tiny pieces of himself, childhood memories, stories he liked, offerings to the rapacious monster who was never satisfied, always wanting to know more, more about Sam, to familiarize himself with every nook and cranny of Sam’s heart and soul. And slowly, Sam found himself giving over those very things.
In return, he received stories and laughter. He was left to imagine the smiles that must accompany that laughter, and the eyes that must crinkle in amusement. For he never saw his companion, was never allowed to touch him. Sam knew only that his hands were soft and human, and lately, unbidden, he was left to wonder what other features might be human and whether he would ever be able to find out.
Sam was aware that whatever manner of creature held him was not human. If the castle’s magic itself was not enough, there was a strange rustling that accompanied his movements, senses Sam could not define giving him an impression of shifting limbs and size far greater than an ordinary man. But less and less did that concern Sam. He knew he was cursed to love a monster. And lately, as soft chuckles and gentle teasing sent curls of heat licking over his skin, he was less inclined to fight his fate.
But still their nightly ritual went unchanged. Sam never slept alone, but he was always left in peace, only a warm weight through the blankets betraying another presence in his bed.
That changed after almost three months. The days had been getting shorter, night coming earlier. Sam found himself thankful for the waning of the year, giving him more time with his nightly companion. It was a bitterly cold night and Sam knew the first snow of the year would fall that night. He could smell it in the air.
Each morning Sam found new clothes laid out for him, smelling fresh and clean and perfectly fitted for his frame. But even the sumptuous clothes couldn’t keep out the chill. As the temperature plummeted with the sun, and with no fire to keep warm, Sam retired to his bed before the light was gone, seeking the extra warmth the blankets would provide.
When his companion joined him, Sam didn’t waste his opportunity. Hands came close in the dark to check on his health, the being clearly surprised to find him already in bed and he snagged one hand, pulling him off balance. Sam knew surprise was his only advantage and he used his instincts, honed after spending months in the dark to unerringly tangle his free hand into what felt like soft curls and used the leverage to pull a thankfully human face close to his own. Then there were lips against his and Sam sighed in relief as he finally got some of the contact he craved.
Husky laughter filled his senses, and then there were hands pulling the blankets away from his body and he shivered in protest before an even warmer body replaced them. It felt like a human body, though smaller than his own, and he was thankful for that too. Though he was more than aware that many monsters could change their skins, that thought was lost as his companion did his very best to distract Sam from his thoughts with tongue and teeth. Sam was more than willing to let himself be distracted.
Hours later, curled together in the dark, Sam was still awake. It occurred to him then that he didn’t even know the name of his bedmate. Nor was he completely satisfied. While he could not deny the pleasure their evening had brought, he had still been forbidden to touch. It left him feeling unsettled, coming apart in the dark, denied any knowledge of his lover beyond the touches on his skin. And still that strange niggling sense that there were more that he couldn’t see, that ever present rustling reminding him that what was pressed against him was not human flesh.
It became a part of their routine. Each night Sam was left gasping and blissed out, but unfulfilled, mulling it over in the dark. Eventually he started to push, to try and reach out, to question the rules he’d been accepting of in the beginning. At first he’d been hesitant to upset the monster in the dark lest he find himself as the next meal served on the table. But that was unlikely now, if his contended purrs were anything to judge by.
So Sam pushed, seeking a name, seeking to touch, anything he could get. Finally, he pushed too far. There was a night his companion did not appear. It didn’t last long. In the end they reached a compromise. Not the sort that brought Sam any satisfaction, but he could not deny he was grateful all the same. He was allowed to see his brother.
It had been long months without his family, spending most of his time alone. Sam was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Dean. But he still chafed at the rules. And if the being knew him as well as he should have he would have known Dean was the last thing he should introduce into that mix. For no sooner had Dean strode into the castle, brought courtesy of the west wind, than he was running to his brother asking after the ‘monster of the castle’.
Dean’s enquiries awoke every one of Sam’s concerns and fears, and while the brothers enjoyed their time together, pleased beyond measure so see one another, they shared fewer and fewer contended looks, exchanges becoming darker and darker with suspicion. Sam tried valiantly to resist, to defend his lover from his brother’s suspicions. But how could he, when they were nothing more than an echo of his own?
As darkness came, so did the wind, but Dean pulled Sam into one last hug and as he did he slipped a small candle and some matches into Sam’s pockets. Sam was careful not to react, but he met his brother’s gaze and nodded once, a subtle shift, but enough. The brothers had always been able to say so much with just a look.
That night, so late, even the being by his side was fast asleep, Sam reached with shaking hands for his clothes, left rumpled on the floor and pulled out his candle and matches, desperately try to strike a flame without alerting his companion. Finally the wick caught. Sam was almost afraid to look. Dean had filled his head with all sorts of terrible images, scaly beasts and deformed monsters. But when Sam looked at the being beside him, he saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life.
His hair was golden in the candlelight, skin smooth and creamy. Broad shoulders with a narrow waist, but soft in all the right places, and Sam’s fingers itched to touch. But what Sam was really focused on was the source of the rustling, the thing he’s sensed but never been able to make sense of. Two enormous golden wings were tucked in against his back; feathers rucked up against the sheets, carefully pulled away from where his body was nestled against Sam.
So enthralled was he, that he stared too long. Sam managed to tear his eyes away from the shimmering golden appendages in time to see equally golden eyes slide open and fix on his own sadly. Sam didn’t try to apologise or protest. He knew now who it was that had slept by his side those past months, just as he knew what he had done. For love is blind, but Sam had chosen to see, chose fear and jealousy over the love he held so dear. And between one breath and the next that love was gone.