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"They said, they’re rare to be found.
They said, their beauty is beyond your imagination.
They said, their songs are so heavenly.
They said, they will make you a fortune.
They said, if you see them, capture them.
They said, make them bleed, for their blood is the jewel of the deep.
They said, make them cry, for their tears are the treasure of the seven seas.
But be warned…
They said, their beauty is only a deception.
They said, their voices will make your ears bleed.
They said, their songs will lure you to death in the darkest depths.
They said, their eyes will hypnotize you.
Do not fall for them, they said,
because they’ll feed on your soul."
*
Dean was in the middle of washing the dishes when the telephone rang. It wasn’t his cellphone, but rather the old landline they still had in the house though none of them used it these days.
Weird, he thought to himself as he dried his hands on the dish towel slinging over his right shoulder, Who the hell knows our landline number? I don’t even know our landline number.
He checked the time on the old clock hanging over the kitchen entrance on his way to the phone, it wasn’t even noon yet. Whoever was calling had better have some really good reason to do so, because he didn’t appreciate being interrupted in the middle of his daily routine. He still had to make mushed potatoes, to go with the meatloaf he had already put in the oven, before he had an hour to himself. He was planning on trying to finish another chapter in the book he was slowly reading at that time, before he had to go and bring Sammy back from school.
“Hello.” Dean answered the phone, not sure if he was hoping it was just a telemarketer that he could brash off or not.
“Hello sir, is it the Winchester residence?” A serious female voice came from the other side.
“Yes,” Dean answered, trying to recall if he could recognize the woman’s voice, but couldn’t. “Who am I talking to?”
“Is Mr. Winchester present?” Was the woman’s replay, which put Dean on edge. Why wasn’t the woman answering his question?
“He is not here at the moment.” He kept his annoyance out of his voice as best as he could. No use in getting the woman on the other side defensive before he knew what was going on. “This is his son speaking, what is it about?” Who said I couldn’t be polite if I wanted to, ha?
“Is there another way to reach him? I tried his cellphone but it seems to be off. It is very important.”
Again with the whole ‘asking another question instead of answering him’ thing. He was starting to lose his patience.
“Listen, lady, my dad works on a boat at sea, so he probably has no reception, and he’ll be back home only after sunset. I don’t know who you are, but if it’s a very important matter, maybe I could help?”
There was a pause, where Dean could hear the woman’s muffled voice talking to some unknown person, and then she was back talking to him.
“Yes. My name is Mrs. Ross from Truman high school, it is about Sam Winchester, is there an adult I could speak to?”
Sam’s school. Something happened to Sammy. Dean felt the burning sensation of panic starting to form in the pit of his stomach. Stay focused! You can’t help Sammy if you don’t even know what happened to him. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he answered.
“Yes, it would be me. My name is Dean Winchester, and I’m Sam’s 19 years old older brother. What happened to him?”
There was another pause, shorter this time, before he finally got some details from Mrs. Ross from Sammy’s school.
“He was in a fight. From what we gathered, he was the first to physically attack the other boy, though he was provoked. We do not tolerate violence in our school, but given the fact that Sam is usually a good student, and that it was the first time he ever acted out, we will not suspend him. However, he is not in a state, both emotionally and physically, to stay at school for the rest of the day. We need you to please come and get him.”
*
Dean was out of the house and into the car the moment he hung up the phone, dishes and mush potatoes be damned. He got to the school in record time, and almost ran to the office where they told him Sammy would be waiting for him.
Sam was sitting on a chair facing the door, and immediately stood up and opened his mouth to say something when Dean came into the room. Dean didn’t give him the chance to speak, though.
“Ah-ah!” He said while lifting his hand in front of Sam’s face, which sported an ugly looking black eye and an equally ugly looking split lip, effectively shutting whatever Sam was about to say. “Take your bag and let's go, we’ll talk in the car.” Obediently, Sam did as he was told, and silently followed Dean out.
They were both quiet as they entered the car. Dean tried to calm himself, telling himself that it’s not the end of the world, that it was only a fight, and that in the grand scheme Sammy was fine. It’s not like he didn’t get into a fair share of fights before he dropped out of school. Hell, he usually was the one instigating them.
But that was the thing, Sammy was not him, should not be like him. Sammy was better than him in all aspects, he shouldn’t go around starting fights and jeopardizing his future. This train of thought did the opposite of calming him down, it got him furious. He turned the key in the ignition, and slammed his fists on the wheel.
“Dammit Sammy! What the hell?!” Was all he could say.
Sam flinched from the sudden bang of Dean’s fists hitting the wheel, but other than that, his features were the perfect picture of youth defiance.
“He had it coming!” He barked at Dean, who glanced at him for a second before turning back to watch the road. “And also, he started it!”
“Really Sammy?! Really?! He started it?! What are you? Five? I thought you were smarter than that.” Dean really thought that after 15 years on this planet, Sam would have learned to control his anger in a better way than this.
“He was saying mean things about you. Wrong things. I couldn’t just let that slide.”
Sam sounded so sincere it malted Dean’s heart, and all of a sudden, he wasn’t so mad at his brother anymore.
“Thank you for defending my honor, but I'm sure that whatever he said didn’t warrant you beating him up and risking suspension. You want to go to a good college, don’t you?” He glanced at him for a second, “Getting in fights and being suspended are not the right way to do that. Doing that will get you to, well, being me, and you don’t want to be a fuck up like me. I don’t want you to be a fuck up like me.”
That earned Dean a mixture of sad and annoyed expressions from Sam.
“Dean, you are not a fuck up. You’re just in a fucked-up situation. A situation you could very well get out of if you really wanted to, by the way.”
That was not fair.
“First of all, taking care of you is not a fucked-up situation. Don’t give that look! I know that’s not what you were talking about, shut up! Second, and I know you don’t like me saying that, but it’s true, I am a fuck up.” He could see Sam opening his mouth from the corner of his eyes. “No, listen to me now, your elder is talking. I couldn’t finish school, I can hardly read, I can’t do anything right, that’s why dad doesn’t trust me to help him on the boat. I could’ve been another person to help earn money for our family, but instead, the only thing I’m good at is taking care of you. So now we have to think of a reason for your messed up face, that is not you starting a fight and getting sent home in the middle of a school day, so dad won't be mad at me for failing in the only thing he thinks I’m still good for.”
They were already parking in the driveway of their house at that point. They got out of the car and made their way into the house in contemplative silence. Dean was about to go check on the meatloaf he suddenly remembered was still in the oven when Sam gave him a hug.
“I don’t understand why you care so much about what dad has to say about you. He’s almost never around, and he clearly doesn’t care about us that much, so why should you?”
Dean had nothing to say about that, or rather, he had too much to say about that that it gave him a headache. So he just told Sam to go wash up while he would find him a bag of frozen peas to put on his black eye.
Sammy had his heart in the right place, but he didn’t know their dad like Dean did. John cared about them. He cared about them a lot. That was why he worked in the field he worked in - hunting the monsters of the sea, so he could simultaneously protect them from the things that killed their mother, and earn money to put food on their table by selling whatever was valuable from the monsters’ corpses.
*
Dad didn’t believe the excuse they came up with as to why Sam’s face looked like someone hit him. When Sam eventually told him what happened, he sent him to his room with a stern ‘Don’t do it again’, and then continued to call Dean in every insulting name he could think of after a day of hard work.
Dean was walking down the shore outside their house. They lived there forever. Their dad always worked on the boat, even before their mom was killed by a sea monster. After that, he turned his occupation from hunting big fish to hunting monsters of the sea. His dad’s words echoed in Dean’s head as he climbed the rocks of the breakwater wall that extended into the sea a short distance away.
Good for nothing son! Can’t do anything right! I gave you one job, to take care of Sam, and you let him get into a fight to defend your honor?! Disgusting! And you want me to let you come hunt with me?! When your brother has more balls than you?! Pathetic!
Dean knew he was right, but it still stung. That, in turn, made him feel even more pathetic. He wasn’t even strong enough to take the truth like a man. His eyes started to prickle, and a new wave of shame washed over him as he realized he was about to cry. Man don’t cry, but then again, he obviously wasn’t a man.
The wind was blowing hard, causing big waves that splattered on the rocks below him, sending drops of sea water to mix with the tears that were running freely and shamefully down Dean’s face. It was late and he was cold, but he couldn’t go back inside yet. He needed more time to pick himself up, to gather strength from somewhere so he could continue with his pitiful existence. He had to do it for Sammy. It was his only job, and even if he wasn’t that good at it like he wanted to believe, he wasn’t going to quit doing it.
So he stayed there on the rocks for a little longer, so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the wind was peeking up, sending higher and higher waves to break below him, until it was too late. The next wave didn’t break on the rocks below him like the previous ones, but hit him instead with the force of the cold, wet, bitter wall of salt water that it was, and sent him sideways into the deep dark water below.
Dean was never afraid of the sea, just of the monsters that lived in it when he was a little child, but now he was terrified of it. It was cold and cruel, its strong currents sucking him under and to all directions like he was a ragdoll and not a 6ft tall 19 years old young man. He kicked and flung his hands around in a desperate attempt to bring himself back up to the surface, but the currents were too strong, the sea was too strong, and he felt in horror as the fight was leaving his body. It was cold and wet and dark around him, and then there was nothing.
*
Someone was pounding on his chest, hard.
Why is someone pounding on my chest? That’s not a nice way to wake up somebody.
Dean wanted to tell whoever was pounding on his chest to stop that, when an acute need to throw up overtook him, so he did just that. As he was retching and heaving, he noticed several things all at once: He was cold and wet, he was bone-deep exhausted, his lungs were burning, the pounding on his chest stopped, and someone was propping his upper body up and to the side so he was not vomiting on himself.
It was then that he remembered what happened: The call from Sammy’s school, Sammy’s black eye, the fight with his dad, the wave taking him under.
He was drowning, but not anymore.
He tried to open his eyes and move away from whoever was holding him upright, but a coughing fit took over him, and he was struggling to breathe again. Somewhere over his panic he could hear a raspy deep voice telling him to calm down, to take deep breaths, that he was alright. The hand that was previously holding his left shoulder was now on his chest, over his heart, and for some reason, that contact felt like an anchor in Dean’s stormy mind, and he found himself being able to breathe easily once more.
When he finally opened his eyes, he felt like his breath might be taken away from him for the third time tonight. Before him was the most stunning and terrifying creature he had ever seen, and it was right in his personal space. On instinct, Dean screamed and scrambled backwards and away from the creature, that from a bit of a distance he could see was a merman. If it wanted to catch me, it would have to work for it. But the creature didn’t seem like it was about to give chase, it merely tilted its head to the left, the big blue fins that were coming out of the sides of its face twitching, and looked at him with what looked like a perfect imitation of a confused man-fish-puppy hybrid.
“What is the matter?” The creature asked in that deep gravelly voice that was both exactly what Dean would expect from a creature like this one to sound like, and the complete opposite of what Dean would expect from a creature with that fair facial features and blue eyes to sound like.
Even though he wanted to believe he was a strong young man, Dean had to admit to himself that even if he wasn’t so damned exhausted from trying not to drown, he couldn’t have stood a chance against what was in front of him right now, not with those big talons and sharp teeth. His best bet was to be nice and polite, and to hopefully talk himself out of this situation alive.
“Hello sir.” Dean's voice sounded rough, and it was hard for him not to groan from the pain of using it after vomiting and coughing salt water. “Please don’t eat me.”
It wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but it was the only thing that came up in his currently exhausted, freezing, and fear filled mind.
The creature recoiled a bit, like it was physically taken aback by Dean’s plea. The fins that came out of its shoulder blades, which Dean noticed were the same blue as its face fins, tail, and eyes, fanned out, and its expression morphed from confusion to puzzlement.
“I don’t want to eat you. I don’t eat humans.”
He was relieved for a moment before he remembered what his dad told him about the mermen: They feed on humans’ souls.
Shit! No good! Think of something… Think of something…
“My soul is gross, you don’t want it, I swear!” He rambled, “If you let me go, I promise I won’t bother you, and I won’t tell anyone I saw you. Please don’t eat my soul!”
Apparently, begging was what he could think of.
The creature tilted its head even more, and squinted its eyes. Then, in what looked like a deliberate act, folded its head and back’s fins and tucked them close to its body.
“I don’t eat souls either.” The creature sounded almost sad to Dean’s ears for some reason. “And you are not my captive. You sank next to where I was about to go to sleep, and you weren’t breathing, so I brought you up here and did chest compressions until you breathed again.”
Dean was stunned. The creature saved him.
He must have been sitting and staring past the creature, trapped in the static in his own head, for longer than what he felt like, because the creature, who was looking at him until then, said: “I’ll leave you to it.”, and started to turn away.
“Wait!”
He was being rude to the creature. It saved him, and he was accusing it of wanting to eat him. He always told Sammy not to judge someone by the way they looked, and he did just that now. To his surprise, the creature stopped his movement and was back to looking at him. If he was in its position, Dean wasn’t sure he would do the same.
“Thank you for saving me, and sorry for assuming you were going to eat me.”
“You are welcome.” The creature said, and it looked like it had a smile in its eyes.
It accrued to Dean that it was after sunset when he left the house and walked to the shore, the sky was covered with clouds, so no star or moon light, and they were right next to the water at the base of the breakwater wall, where the lights from the house couldn't reach, so there was supposed to be no way he could see the creature like he did. Looking around him for the first time since being rescued by the creature, he saw a jar on the ground next to them, filled with water, and in it was a tiny glowing jellyfish, emitting soft pinkish light that illuminated a small circle around them.
“I was going to come back for her after you’ve left.” The creature must have seen Dean looking at the jellyfish, and felt a need to explain. Dean appreciated that. “I can see fine in the deep dark water, but the darkness on land is different, she agreed to help me with that.”
“That’s very kind of her, and of you. I’m Dean.” He scooted closer to the creature and extended his hand.
The creature observed Dean and his outstretched hand for a few seconds, before slowly extending his own hand, closing its fingers gently around Deans’, perhaps being mindful not to harm him with its talons, and shook it firmly once before letting go.
“Hello Dean. My name is Castiel, and this is Meg. It’s nice to meet you.”
Thay stayed there in silence for a moment, looking at each other in the deem light Meg was emitting for them. Dean had so many questions running through his head all at once, and he was just about to ask the creature, Castiel, how it knew CPR when a violent shiver ran through his body. The shiver broke Castiel from its staring trance.
“You are cold and wet; you should go home before you get sick.”
It was right, Dean knew that, but Castiel was fascinating, and he wanted to know more about it. Him. Dean wanted to know more about him. Castiel was polite, and he saved him. He was not an it, not in Dean’s eyes, not anymore.
“I want to see you again so I could thank you properly for saving my life.” He said as he stood up, grimacing as his wet clothes clinged to his body as he moved.
“You already thanked me, there’s no need for more.”
“I still want to see you again, though.” He rubbed his neck with his hand, not looking directly at Castiel. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to, after I’ve been rude to you, but I clearly have some wrong information about you and your kind, and I would like to learn about you. Plus, you seem nice,” Dean could feel heat spreading through his face as he continued talking, “I'd like to have someone nice to talk to during the day, other than my brother.”
Castiel was studying him carefully, calculating something in his mind, and after weighing the options he had, he seemingly came to a final conclusion.
“You seem nice as well, and it would be nice to have someone to practice my English with. Meg is a great companion, but her vocal abilities are lacking.” Was Castiel making a joke? “I forgot how nice it was to hear spoken language. But I don’t know if it would be safe for us to meet. As you said, your kind has some wrong ideas about my people, and if someone would see us, they might hurt us. I don’t want anyone to see me, I worked very hard to make sure I was never seen.”
“You made an exception for me.” Dean tried to catch Castiel’s eyes with his, but Castiel did everything in his power to avoid it.
“You're different.” He said eventually, still not meeting Dean’s eyes.
Dean wanted to ask why he was different, but decided not to push it for now.
“Then you can make another exception for me.”
He didn’t know where the courage to speak like that to a powerful merman he just met came from, probably a mixture of the roller-coaster ride of emotions he felt that day coupled with the hunting blue eyes Castiel had and the fact that he was truly and utterly lonely, so he continued.
“No one is here but me between 9 am to 2 pm. My father leaves at dawn and comes back at sunset, and I’m the one who brings my brother to and back from school, so there is no chance he would just appear during that time. It will be just the two of us, I promise.”
Apparently Castiel’s resolve wasn’t that strong, because this was all it took to make him agree.
“Fine. We can meet here, where it’s hidden. When will you be here tomorrow?”
Excited, Dean said: “I’ll be here at noon. It’ll give me enough time for chores and will give us about an hour to speak before I’ll have to go get my brother.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
Castiel stayed with Meg illuminating Dean’s way up the rocks, before returning underwater.
*
The bad and the good thing about being John Winchester’s son was that he usually drank and passed out after he got back from a day in the see, which meant he was already in the land of the dreaming when Dean came home that night, wet and cold, so he didn’t have to make an excuse for what had happened to him. Sam, who trusted Dean completely, accepted the story he told him about how he got drenched by a big wave, and said nothing more about that subject.
The next day, Dean finished his chores in record time, too excited about meeting Castiel, and too worried about not finishing them on time, and therefore being late. He didn’t want to be late to his first meeting with the one he hoped would be his friend. Because he had more than an hour until the meeting, he decided to make a little snack for Castiel and himself to eat. After a short deliberation in his mind, he settled on making grilled cheese sandwiches.
When he got to the bottom of the breakwater wall at 11:59, he looked around to find Castiel, but couldn’t find him. Worried that Castiel decided he didn’t want to meet him after all, he set on the small patch of sand to wait. He didn't have to wait long at all, because the moment his ass met the ground, Castiel’s head popped up from the sea surface and got bigger as he made his way to the shore. When he got to the shore, and with the grace of a seal, Castiel flopped himself near where Dean was sitting, and greeted.
“Hello Dean.”
In the short time between last night and now, it totally left Dean’s mind how deep Castiel’s voice was, and how impressive he looked. In the daylight, what looked to Dean as solid blue fins and tail, were actually made out of an assortment of small irradiant scales in various shades of blue, which glimmered in the sun in tiny rainbows. His talons were also a shade of light blue, a color he couldn’t detect with only the light emitting from Meg. What he remembered correctly, however, were Castiel’s eyes, they were just as blue as last night. He was stunning.
“Hey Castiel, I was worried for a second you weren’t going to come.”
Castiel did the same head tilt he did last night when Dean asked him not to eat him.
“We had an appointment.”
“Yeh, we did.” Dean smiled at Castiel’s choice of words, which reminded him of one of the questions he had for him.
“May I ask you a question?” When Castiel nodded, he continued. “How do you know English? Is that the language all Mer-people talk?”
Castiel gave him a little smile.
“No, it is not the language of the Mer-people. Our language depends on where we live in the sea. Different regions have different dialects, and Mer-people from one ocean have entirely different languages than Mer-people from another ocean, just like with humans and continents.”
That made sense.
“As for my English, when you hear and listen to a language as long as I do, you are bound to learn it eventually. And I made an effort to learn it, so it came even faster than most.”
“How long did it take you?” Castiel made it sound like it was a long, long, time, but he didn’t look much older than Dean, maybe five years his senior.
“The basic understanding of it took me ten years or so, but it was because I rarely had the chance to hear it at that time, so it wasn’t a regular consistent study. After I had to move closer to the shore, I had more opportunities to listen closely, and for longer periods of time, so I started to really pick up the nuances of the language. I wanted to practice speaking, but couldn’t, because I had no one to speak to. Then I found a working radio station in an abandoned ship and started practicing speaking through it to random ships. It took a while too, because I had to be careful not to be found, so I couldn’t do it in the daytime. The radio broke 15 years ago.” Castiel sounded sad.
Something wasn’t adding up.
“How old are you? I counted more than 25 years of just learning English.”
Castiel looked nostalgic.
“I am extremely old in human standards, but fairly young as Mer-people go. I’ll be 232 years old in three months. What did you bring in the bag?”
Dean completely forgot about the snacks he made for them, too captivated by Castiel’s explanations, and the fact that he was 213 years older than he was.
“I made us something to eat. You said that you don't eat humans, nor souls, but you must eat something, so I made us some of my younger brother’s favorite snacks - grilled cheese sandwiches.”
He took the sandwiches out of the bag and handed one to Castiel, who just held the offered food in his hands and looked at it longingly, like it was a faraway desire and not something he was holding.
“You don’t like that?” Disappointment rushed through him, though he couldn’t have known what Castiel liked to eat, he only knew of two things he didn’t eat, and that’s all. He did, however, wanted to make Castile happy, and he wasn’t doing a good job at it, judging by the sad look on Castiel’s face. “I’m sorry. If you tell me what you like, I’ll make it for you tomorrow, if you'd like.”
“It’s not that.” Castiel quickly reassured him. “I don’t even know if I like it or not, I just can’t eat. You have nothing to apologize for, you didn’t know I can’t eat. I should be the one to apologize to you, you went through all the trouble of making me something, and I can’t even have it.” He was whispering.
“What do you mean you can’t eat? At all? Is that a Mer-people thing?”
Castiel looked even more sad, his face fins fanned a little and then sagged down.
“It is not a Mer-people thing, it’s just me, I can’t eat. I mean, technically, I can put things in my mouth, chew and swallow them, but I can’t taste them, and I won't feel like I ate anything, so it’s useless for me to even try.”
“Why?”
What could make someone have a condition like that? That sounded horrible.
“And how are you not starving to death?”
Castiel breathed in deeply and let it out slowly before shaking his head.
“I was cursed. I will tell you why another time. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” He paused. “Tell me something about yourself.”
Dean could respect Castiel’s wish not to talk about it. It didn’t mean he would not revisit it another time, it seemed too important to be glossed over.
“There is not much to tell. My name is Dean Winchester, I’m 19 years old, I live at the house right next to this shore, I take care of my little brother and the house while my dad is at work for most of the day, and that’s pretty much it. Kind of lame, I know.”
“Being a caretaker is the farthest away from being lame.” Castiel sounded sincere. “It takes responsibility, and empathy, and mental strength, it is an honorable role to take upon.”
Castiel looked at him in what looked like almost pride, but definitely respect. No one has ever framed it this way to him before.
“Well, my father doesn't see it that way. He says this is not enough, but that unfortunately I’m not good at anything else. If he had it his way, I would also be good at working on the boat so I could, between taking care of Sam and food and the house, help him earn money.”
“That doesn’t sound fair.”
“Well, he’s not entirely wrong. I mean, I really am not good at anything in particular.”
“I don’t believe it’s true.” Why was Castiel sounding sad? “If you had things your way, how would that be?”
Dean didn’t need to stop and think about it, he knew the answer to this question, because he thought about it almost every waking hour of every day.
“I wish I had some big talent or skill that could make me rich fast, so I could promise Sam, that’s my brother, a better life out of this hell-hole of a town, and so my dad would see that I’m not a waste of space and food.”
The sad look Castiel gave him made him uncomfortable, so he averted his eyes and glanced at his watch. To his amazement, it was almost time for him to go pick up Sammy. He felt bad about the relief he felt about having to leave, but he didn’t need Castiel’s pity. Before Castiel had time to say something about Dean’s answer, Dean began to stand up, gathering the untouched sandwiches.
“I have to go pick up Sam now. It was very nice talking to you. Do you want to meet here at the same time tomorrow?”
To his delight, Castiel’s face morphed from pity to happy, and his face fins perked up.
“I had a nice time as well. I would love to meet you here tomorrow. Have a safe trip and a pleasant rest of the day.”
With that, Castiel flopped himself back to the sea, waved, and disappeared underwater.
*
The rest of the day went the same as every weekday. Dean brought Sam home, made sure he ate and did his homework, cleaned the house and made dinner, and then made sure his dad ate dinner and made it to his bed after his early night drinking. The difference was, however, that Dean couldn’t stop thinking about Castiel and the curse he endures.
During the night, he thought about curses, and why one may get cursed. It could be that one meets an evil and vengeful individual, and somehow rubs them the wrong way, and gets cursed as a result. But it also could be that one is an evil and vengeful one, and the other curses him as a punishment.
The next day, Dean made up his mind to ask Castiel to tell him about the cause of the curse. He had to know why he was cursed. Was he the former one or the latter one of his musings. He hoped he was the former. If Castiel was a bad guy, he would have to tell his dad about him, and have him hunted down. He really didn’t want to do that, he liked the fact he had a friend for himself, and a special one like a merman.
When Dean got to their meeting place, Castiel was already on the shore, holding something in his hands. He sat down next to him, took his shoes off and dug his toes in the wet sand.
“Hey Castiel. What do you have there?” He said while gesturing to his hands with his head.
“Hello Dean. I found this yesterday on my way back from our meeting, and I thought you might like it.”
He opened his palms to reveal a small shiny seashell.
“I also felt bad that yesterday you gave me a gift and I got you nothing, not even the satisfaction of accepting yours. So, here, this is for you.”
Dean took the shell that Castiel presented him and inspected it. It was cone like and had green, black, and white stripes spiraling around it. It was smooth and shiny and delicate.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to, though. I wasn’t expecting anything, I just thought it would be nice to bring food. I’m good at cooking, and wanted to share, that’s all.”
He wasn’t used to getting presents, and didn’t know what to do with it, so he just put it in his pants’ pocket. It seemed to be the right thing to do, because Castiel’s eyes followed Dean’s action, and his face fins perked up in the same way they did yesterday when he was happy to be invited to meet up again.
He didn’t want to bring the mood down, but he had to ask Castiel about the curse, it could be detrimental to the future of their relationship.
“Hey, uhm, about yesterday,” Dean was rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, looking at his toes disappearing in the sand in front of him, “Could you tell me about what happened to you with the curse?”
Castiel’s loud sudden intake of breath made Dean look at his face, seeing his distress written all over it.
“I know it must be unpleasant for you, but it is something big that happened to you, and I think it’s important that I’ll know about it.”
Still not saying anything, Castiel’s face hardened, and Dean felt he had to even the playing field somehow, so Castiel would feel they were on equal footings.
“If you tell me about what happened to you, I’ll tell you about my mother’s death.”
It seemed to take the edge off, and with a faraway look, Castiel started speaking.
“I don't know what you know about Mer-people, but from what I remember, what you know is lacking. Mer-people are usually conflated with other sea creatures, like Sirens and Krakens, but we are usually not hostile like the others. Like the sirens, we are very tribal, and have a very strict hierarchy. We have a leader, and rules, and those rules are to be obeyed.
You asked me before about what we eat, if we don't eat human's souls, and the answer is: fish. I know, very underwhelming.
When I was about 200 years old, we had a terrible period of food shortage. The world above the water was suffering from a drought that caused a dwindling of the fish and other sea life population, and food was scarce.
The orders were to hunt whatever we could, and share it only among our people.
I was a part of a hunting expedition, tasked with finding fish near the shallow water. I managed to capture three fish, more than I was expecting to get, when I saw two young human children, both thin as skeletons, trying to fish as well. I couldn't leave them like this, knowing that they wouldn't catch anything the way they were trying to fish, so I got close enough to be able to throw one of the fish I caught next to them. They didn't see me, but they did see the fish, and they grabbed it and ran away with it.
I didn't think anyone saw me do that, but unfortunately, someone from the expedition did. l don't know who, but they reported me to our superiors. I was put on a trail for disobedience, and was sentenced to be cursed by the tribe's witch.
He tailored the curse to my crime: preventing my fellow tribemates' food, and thus damning them to hunger. He made me unable to eat, yet also unable to die from lack of food, a permanent state of hunger. I was also banished from the tribe, and was bound to stay near the shallow water, where I committed my crime.”
That was crushing.
“And yesterday you told me that my situation is unfair.” Dean choked out. “All you did was to help a couple of kids by giving them one lousy fish out of the three you had, and they punished you like that? That's unfair. You are a good person, you don't deserve that.”
They sat in silence for some time, thinking of what Castiel had said. If Dean wondered about whether Castiel was good or evil, this story proved to him without a shadow of a doubt that he was pure at heart. No evil person will do such a selfless act, and the fact Castiel was punished so severely because of it infuriated him.
“Is there any way to break the curse, so you won't be starving anymore?”
“I don’t know.”
There must be a way to break that curse. He promised himself to do whatever it would take to find it. He won’t tell it to Castiel yet, he didn’t want to bring his hopes up, or for him to dismiss him by saying it would be a fruitless effort. He’ll make time to search for it.
Castiel was the one to speak next, pulling Dean out of formulating a plan about how to find resources about curses and breaking them in his mind.
“I know you offered to share the story of your mother’s death with me as a trade-off for my curse story, but I feel like my story was depressing enough for one afternoon. Will it be fine with you to not do that now, but instead for you to tell me something pleasant about your life?”
Dean agreed gladly, and spent the remaining time they had before he had to go bring Sam from school, recounting the time Sam was five and he was nine, and they were playing dress up.
“Sam thought getting dressed up as Batman gave him the ability to fly, so he jumped off of a shed, and broke his arm. I had to carry him to the E.R. on the handlebars of my bike, still dressed up as Superman.”
It wasn’t the most pleasant moment he could think of, but it was one that made him laugh, even if in retrospect he could see how irresponsible he was, being the first one to jump off that shed and letting Sam copy his actions.
*
They spent their weekdays like that for a while, meeting at noon on the small patch of sand at the bottom of the breakwater wall, trading stories. Castiel told him about the life under water, about the fish and other sea life he befriended over his years of exile, and about the differences between living near the shore in comparison to living in the deep dark where his tribe dwelled.
For his part, Dean told Castiel about living with his father and younger brother, about his adventures at school before he dropped out, and about all the things he would like to give Sammy if he had the opportunity.
He tried to tell Castiel about his mother’s death, like he promised, but every time he brought it up, Castiel asked him to tell him something else instead. He also didn’t forget the promise he made to himself to find a way to break Castiel’s curse, but unfortunately, he still had nothing. He felt disappointed with himself about that, he really wanted to help Castiel, who became as important to him as Sam was.
It was a Wednesday, about three weeks after their first meeting, and Dean was on his way to their meeting spot. It was five minutes before noon when he arrived, so he was not surprised to see the spot empty. In these three weeks, Castiel mostly came out of the water only after Dean was there. Only a couple of times before he was there before him. Dean sat on the wet sand, took his shoes off, the way he did every time he was there, and dipped his toes in the cold water.
Today he planned to tell Castiel about the time he almost kissed a boy from his class in a party when he was 16 years old, but got punched in the nose for it by the said boy instead. He never told this story to anyone before, too embarrassed by what happened, and too afraid of the reactions he’d get from his dad and Sam, so he just kept it to himself. But yesterday Castiel told him about a boyfriend he had once, more than 150 years ago, and how he missed the sensation of another person pressing him down under them, and the security and warmth that came with it. It made him feel confident that Castiel wouldn't judge him.
It was already five minutes after noon, and Castiel still didn’t show up. Dean started to worry. He was never late. He tried to rationalize this, maybe he found something nice to give him and got distracted, or maybe Meg needed help with something and got him delayed. Dean sat there for the whole time they were supposed to meet, but Castiel never showed up. Feeling worried and sad, Dean reluctantly got up and went to get Sam from school.
The next day went the same way. Dean showed up a few minutes before noon, waited for Castiel to arrive for the whole hour, then went to get Sam. He tried to mask the worry and hurt he felt when Sam got in the car, but he couldn’t fool him. Sam was on him the moment he got into the car.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” He answered defensively.
“You look like someone kicked your puppy. Did dad say something to you last night? Because if he did, you need to stop listening to him, you are not worthless.”
Dean didn’t want to tell Sam what really happened, so he took the opening he was given.
“Yeh, it was dad. Thank you for reminding me I'm worth something.”
Even though that was not what happened, it did make Dean think. Maybe that was the reason Castiel stopped showing up to their meetings?
They did spend a lot of time together. Maybe, just as he figured out now that he could trust Castiel with his secrets, Castiel figured out Dean was a loser that was not worth his time. That made sense. He was a loser, and Castiel was a majestic sea creature with a bad curse on him that made him miserable. Why would he want to spend his time with Dean, who couldn’t even find a way to begin looking for a way to break that curse.
As sad as it was, Dean knew he had to come to terms with the fact that Castiel didn’t want to be his friend anymore. It broke his heart, but he figured that what he gets for hoping for things to be different than what they are.
He tried not to think of Castiel the next day. He did his daily routine with a heavy heart. He made breakfast, drove Sam to school, and cleaned the house. He couldn’t stop himself from going to their spot at noon, but he waited only ten minutes before returning home. After that, he sulked for the rest of the hour until he had to go get Sam. He made sure Sam ate and did his homework, he made dinner, and waited for their dad to come home.
When their dad arrived, he was uncharacteristically happy. He smiled, asked Sam how school was, and was generally in a good mood. He even drank only one beer, which made Dean both relieved and uncomfortable, knowing he wouldn’t pass out early that night.
After he cleared the table and sent Sam to his room for the night, John called Dean to sit with him in the living room. He sat timidly on the couch while John went to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of beer. He sat on his chair, which was on Dean’s left, and offered Dean a beer, grinning.
“Son, I got us one of those nasty monsters.” He said happily.
“It got tangled in one of my nets the other day. I had to hit it over the head pretty hard with the harpoon gun in order to knock it out, just so I could drag it to a cave and tie it up. It almost took my head off with its tale once it started to regain consciousness. Took me more than an hour to make sure it was all chained down properly.” He sounded proud of himself.
“I left it to dry in that cave for a few days now, so I hope it weakened it enough for the both of us to milk it for what it’s worth. What do you say about us going out there tomorrow morning to work on the sucker?”
Dean was excited. After the last miserable few days he had, it looked like something was going to finally go for him. Dad was finally willing to let him help with something that had to do with his hunting. Still not with the hunting itself, the monster was already caught, but with handling it, which was enough for him right now. He needed a win, and getting the chance to prove his worth to his dad was definitely a win in his book. He eagerly agreed.
*
The next morning was Saturday, which meant Sam had no school. After breakfast, Dean made sure Sam had enough food for the rest of the day, and made him promise he’ll do all his homework and then stay in the house until they would come back. When he was sure everything was as safe and organized to Sam as possible, Dean ran out the door to join his dad on the boat.
“I tell you, son, this monster is a jackpot. I heard legends about it, but never saw one until now. If we handle it correctly, it could bring us a fortune for a very long time.” His dad had this faraway look in his eyes, like he was already seeing all the things he could do with the money this monster was going to bring them.
Dean thought about it as well. If they had a lot of money, he could send Sam to that private school he mentioned, the one that had the best debate team in their district, and that had a high acceptance rate to the Ivy League Schools among its students. Sam could go to any university he wanted without worrying about getting a scholarship or drowning in student’s loans. Sam could become the lawyer he always wanted to be, instead of being wrapped up in the hunting business he never wanted to be a part of. Sam could be free.
Those thoughts made him so eager to get to that monster already, to start doing whatever they were about to do to it, so he could start making Sammy’s bright future a reality.
About ten minutes into their sailing, Dean saw a small island ahead of them, with a rocky narrow shore leading to a rocky cliff face. As they drew nearer, Dean could see that the cliff was not a straight wall like he thought it was, but was in fact ridged and full of nooks and crannies.
They were a couple of hundred meters from the shore when his dad spoke again.
“When we get to the cave, I’ll need you to do exactly as I say. This monster is strong. I hope the time I left it there to starve took the edge out of it, but even so, I need you to be focused and ready to act as fast as you can. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.” He straightened up to attention on reflex. It was his time to shine, and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t do whatever it’d take to make his dad proud.
The entrance to the cave his dad talked about was concealed behind a big rock that created a small cove where they tied the boat. Dean’s instinct to obey his dad, and the knowledge that the monster chained down in the cave could be extremely dangerous even when tied, were what kept him from running ahead. Exhilarated by the anticipation of what was to come, Dean was sure his dad could hear his rapid heartbeat as they walked side by side to the cave’s mouth.
All eagerness to perform well for his dad died at the sight in front of him. At the far corner of the short cave, lying helplessly on the floor, with three chains bolted to the cave’s walls, two looped tightly around his tail and another securing his wrist behind his back, looking weak and defeated, was Castiel.
He stopped on his tracks, feeling dizzy, and like he was going to throw up. All these days he was feeling sorry for himself for being abandoned by Castiel, Castiel was actually captured. By his father. Who was standing a few steps from him, looking at him curiously.
He probably took his shocked appearance at face value, interpreting the horror he was sure was reflecting in his eyes as a reaction to Castiel, and not to the condition Castiel was in, because he just clapped Dean on the shoulder and smiled.
“I know, terrifying, right? They say this monster can hypnotize you and then eat your soul if you look straight into its eyes. I don’t know if it’s true, but I wouldn’t try to test it out.”
It was Castiel. He was talking like that about Castiel, the most nice and caring creature Dean had met in a long time. He looked Castiel straight in the eyes plenty of times, what his dad was saying was bullshit.
“What I do know for sure to be true, is that this monster’s blood and tears are worth a fortune. I figured, if we didn’t drain all of his blood at once, and feed him enough to keep him just barely alive, we would have a steady supply of liquid red gold in our disposal. What do you say?”
Dean couldn’t make a sound.
“Dean…”
His name sounded like a prayer on Castiel’s lips, which made Dean’s heart break. Dean knew the days Castiel was left captured in this cave without food did nothing to his strength, due to the curse, but he didn’t know the extent of the injuries his father inflicted on him. Nor the mental effects those days of isolation had on his state of mind.
“Did it just call you by your name?”
His dad asked in what could only be described as a snarl.
“Do you know this monster??? Answer me!”
“Yes.”
Dean fought the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He would not cry in front of his dad. He would not give him the satisfaction of mocking him for being weak.
“Let me get this straight, you knew it existed, yet you didn’t tell me? And, what? You decided to befriend it instead of capturing it and making us rich?”
His dad was fuming with anger. Dean didn’t say anything, so his dad continued.
“Please tell me you did this in order to trick it to trust you enough so you could capture it without it fighting you, and that I interrupted you and your ploy by grabbing it before you could make your move.”
Dean looked back and forth between his dad and Castiel. He could see the pleading reflected in Castiel’s eyes, the hope that the trust he gave Dean was not the ruse his father was alluding. He could also see the anger and challenge reflected in his father’s eyes.
His father was giving him an out. He was giving him the opportunity to redeem himself to him. He was sure his father knew he didn’t befriend Castiel just to trick him, but he was willing to let it go for now, and maybe even let it slide as an error in judgment, if he took this explanation and went on with what his dad wanted to do to Castiel.
Admitting he was friends with Castiel would be like him hitting his father with an iron rod, and the retaliation would no doubt be way worse. He could imagine the pain he would feel from his father’s beatings. He would probably be lucky if he’d stay alive after that. Maybe his father would use the many knives they brought here to ‘bleed the monster’ on him as well.
It would be so easy to go with his father’s suggestion, and it was so tempting to get his approval that way. But that would mean to totally betray Castiel. The mere thought of hurting Castiel more than he was already hurt made Dean want to puke. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he did that.
“No.” Dean said after steeling himself, “Castiel is my friend. I never wanted him to be captured by you, or by anyone else for that matter.”
He didn’t know where the confidence in his voice came from, but he was grateful for it, because he felt as far away from confident as possible.
“So, what you’re saying is that you thought only about yourself instead of the well-being of your family? Of your own flesh and blood?”
His father’s voice seemed calm and collected, and to a stranger listening in it would seem like they were just having a polite conversation, but Dean knew better than that. He could see the rage simmering behind his father’s eyes, and the loathing he felt for his son at that moment. Then, those eyes changed, and menacing washed over his dad’s features.
“You were ready to sacrifice Sam’s future for your own pathetic personal pleasure? You ungrateful useless excuse of a son!”
That was a blow under the belt he wasn’t expecting. The harsh intake of air he took was doubled by Castiel’s own shocked inhale.
“If you really care about Sam, you will pick one of the knives and some jars, go to your friend over there, cut open one of his veins, and collect blood. Oh, and try to make it as painful as possible so you could collect his tears as well.”
Dean was frozen in place. He just received a direct order from his dad, one he didn’t think he could obey. For the first time since he could remember, there was something more important than pleasing his dad, and he didn’t know what to do.
“Dean, it’s ok, do it. It’s for your brother, I can take it.”
It was like a record screeched inside Dean’s head as he heard Castiel saying what he just said. He was doing it again, sacrificing his own well-being for others.
“A benevolent monster! Who would have thought?” His dad laughed mockingly, then focused his attention solely on Dean. “Look how pathetic you are, needing the monster to give you permission to do your job! You better do what you were told, and do it well!”
Slowly, as if on auto pilot, Dean retrieved the knife he packed on his person. It was his favorite knife, small, but efficient. He sharpened it the night before to perfection, cleaned and oiled it. If he had to be cut by a knife, this would be the knife he’d choose. The sharpest the knife, the less painful the cut; The cleanest the knife, the less chance of infection. It was the best tool for this job.
Knife and jars in hand, and eyes cast shamefully on the ground, he took the few steps that separated him from Castiel. When there were only a few centimeters between them, he dared to look at Castiel’s face, and what he saw broke his heart even further.
Castiel had shimmied himself to a somewhat comfortable position propped up against the cave’s wall, the chains still holding him even though it was obvious to Dean that even if he wasn’t chained, he would not have run away. He nodded to Dean with understanding and resolution written on his face like the open book he got to be with Dean in the little time they got to know each other.
He kneeled down next to Castiel, took his bounded arms, and placed them on his own thigh. Castiel didn’t resist, just patiently observed Dean as he gently maneuvered his limbs. He lifted the knife, all the while silently repeating ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…’ as he felt tears running freely down his face. He was glad he had his back to his dad. Those tears were for Castiel and Castiel alone. They were part of his penance towards him, his way of conveying his regret without words.
Castiel didn’t even flinch when the knife touched his skin as Dean cut a small incision across his pulse point on one of his wrists. It was small enough to be easily closed without stitches, only pressure, but not too small, so the blood could flow freely without coagulation closing it. Or so he hoped, he didn’t really have any experience with those kinds of things.
As blood started to fill the jar he held just below the cut, careful not to have it touch the wound and thus cause more pain than he already does, Dean watched Castiel. Castiel had his eyes closed, head tilted up against the cave’s wall, and he looked peaceful, like this was an alright thing to be happening to him.
He could imagine this was how he looked when he was cursed all those years ago, accepting the punishment he believed he deserved after he knowingly disobeyed an order. But this was different. This time there was no crime committed by him to deserve any punishment, not that Dean thought he deserved to be punished and cursed for the kindness he did before. This time it was Dean who broke the rules of his father by being kind to Castiel, and yet, Castiel was the one paying for his disobedience.
This wasn’t fair! Castiel shouldn’t be the one to suffer for Dean’s mistakes, and Dean didn’t consider being kind to Castiel and becoming his friend as a mistake. It dawned on him that the mistake he was doing was obeying his father’s order to collect Castiel’s blood. He cared about Sam, more than he cared about himself, but he cared about Castiel as well. Sam’s well-being shouldn’t come at the expense of Castiel’s. He shouldn’t need to choose, and his father shouldn’t make him do so.
Speaking of which, Dean quickly glanced around him, and saw that his dad was still in the same place as before, a few meters away from them, but he had his back towards them, facing the cave’s mouth instead.
Something had to change.
He needed to release Castiel from the chains somehow, and to incapacitate his dad, but he didn’t know how. His dad was a seasoned sea hunter, he tied Castiel well, and was stronger than Dean. But Dean was quicker, and had the element of surprise, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t want to physically hurt his dad, no matter how big of an ass hole he was. He would release Castiel, but he’d do it his way, not the violent and destructive way his dad did things. He’d find a way, but for that he’d need more time, and preferably, his dad away from Castiel.
“Cas.”
Dean shortened Castiel’s name in the hope that in the hushed voice he said it, Castiel would hear him and understand he was calling him, while it would sound like a cough to his father. It seemed to have worked, for it looked like his father was still looking outside and paying them no attention, yet Castiel was now looking directly into his eyes.
Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but Dean shook his head and put a finger to his mouth to indicate he needed to stay quiet. Castiel nodded in understanding, and tilted his head in question. His face fins, which looked pale and weak, twitched. Dean inwardly flinched; he didn’t deserve the amount of trust Castiel was giving him at that moment.
Dean maneuvered Castiel’s unharmed hand, and placed it on the bleeding cut so that his fingers were applying pressure on it and thus stopping the bleeding. He mouthed Castiel to ‘Keep the pressure on it’, and waited for him to confirm he understood before letting go, careful not to move the jar from its place in front of Castiel’s wrist.
They stayed like that, looking in each other’s eyes while Castiel put pressure on the cut, for about a couple of minutes. All the while, Dean was coming up with a plan. In the time he was collecting Castiel’s blood, he managed to fill less than two centimeters, which was not a lot, but perfect for what he wanted to achieve. He motioned for Castiel to take his fingers off the cut. It wasn’t bleeding anymore.
“Hey, dad, we have a little problem here.”
“Oh, is it you not wanting to do your part as a member of our family?”
Despite the sarcasm, Dean heard his dad’s footsteps as he made his way towards him.
“No. It’s his blood, it stopped flowing.”
His dad crouched next to him and examined what was in front of him: Dean holding a mostly empty jar under a cut on Castile’s wrist, a cut big enough that it was supposed to be bleeding freely, but was evidently not bleeding at all.
“I think maybe he heals faster than humans, but I’m not sure.” Dean mused out loud.
“Yes, we do heal faster than humans.” Castiel said matter-of-factly. “It is essential to our species’ survival to not heavily bleed in the water and thus attract predators.”
It was a lie, though, and Dean knew it. Castiel had told him, after accidentally nicking his finger with a sharp edge of a selfish, that their biological evolutionary survival mechanism for injuries was that their blood doesn’t mix with, or dissolve in, water. It stays suspended in the water like balloons. Their tissues healing and coagulation, however, functioned just like humans’. He was thankful that although Castiel didn’t know his plan, he was willing to play along, and was struck again with the feeling he was not worthy of the kind of trust Castiel put with him.
“Shut up, monster! Nobody was talking to you!”
“Dad!” Dean cut through his shouts, “If it’s true, then our method of collecting his blood is ineffective. We need something that will keep his vein open, like a blood donation kit.”
His father turned to face him with a glint in his eyes.
“I knew you’d sober up once you understood the importance of what we were doing here. This is an excellent idea! We could get a whole blood transfusion rig, and plenty of collection bags. It’ll make selling it a hell of a lot easier than in jars, knowing the exact volume of blood in each bag. It will make it look professional as well. Good thinking, son.”
His dad got up and patted him on his shoulder. It was the first time in a long, long, while, years probably, that Dean received something other than cruelty or indifference from his dad.
Oh, the irony.
While his dad went out of the cave, Dean used the opportunity to whisper “I’ll be back for you” to Cas, then took the jar with the blood he already collected, and got out of the cave as well, and into the boat where his dad waited for him, leaving Castiel to be in the cave alone, again.
Saying that he didn’t want to waste time, as soon as they got back to shore, his dad ordered him to get in the car so they could go find a place that sold medical equipment. It was still pretty early in the day, so they had time to search for what they needed. They had to drive to the next town, and visit two different pharmacies in order to get all the gear to efficiently collect blood from Castiel.
It was already early evening when they got back to their one town, and Dean realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Apparently, his dad came to the same conclusion.
“What do you say we’ll go out to eat and celebrate our new found fortune, and your clever idea of who to obtain it?”
Originally, Dean planned to get his father drunk at home during and after dinner, to make sure he would be passed out and out of his way, but he could definitely change it to get him drunk in whatever place his father wanted to go celebrate. He sent Sam a message, letting him know they’d be coming home late, because, unlike his dad, he remembered they left Sam alone, so he was sending him update messages on their whereabouts throughout the day.
It was easier than he thought it would be, and he didn’t think it would be hard at all, to get his dad so drunk that he passed out in the passenger seat on their way home from the diner they ended up in. Not for the first time in his life, but hopefully for the last, Dean dragged his intoxicated unconscious dad to bed. After making sure he was really and utterly out of it, and after moving what they bought that day from the car to the boat, Dean went to find Sam in his room.
“Sammy, I need to talk to you about something.”
Sam put down the book he was reading, and made room for Dean to sit next to him on his bed.
“As you know,” Dean began, “dad caught a sea monster.”
“Yes, that was why he was so happy last night, and where you two went today to deal with.” Was Sam’s reaction.
“Yeh, well, so apparently, it is someone I know.”
Sam looked puzzled.
“What do you mean, someone you know? You know the monster?”
“He is not a monster!” Dean hated the way Sam said the word ‘monster’, and that it was directed at Castiel. “He is a merman, his name is Castiel, and he is my friend. I met him a few weeks ago. Or more accurately, he saved my life a few weeks ago, and we became friends. Don’t look at me like that! He’s a good guy. His species eat only fish, so they couldn’t be the ones that killed mom.”
When the judgmental look left Sam’s face, Dean continued.
“The point is, I’m going to free him. I already got dad drunk enough that he wouldn’t wake up before noon tomorrow. I’m going to take the boat, break Castiel free from the chains that dad tied him up with, and then sail as far away as the boat will let me before it’ll need fueling. Then maybe I’ll stop and settle there, or keep on sailing until I’d find a different place to settle in. I hope Castiel will join me, but even if he doesn't, I’m leaving anyway.”
He spoke the last part of the sentence looking at his hands. He didn’t dare to look in Sam’s eyes when he told him he was leaving. Sam was his responsibility most of his life, and it broke his heart to have to leave him behind, but he knew he couldn’t stay if was going to free Castiel, and he was going to free him. He was going to leave them the blood he collected from Castiel, so they would have more money than what they had now, plus he wouldn’t be there, so it would be one less mouth to feed, so he was sure they could manage. Maybe Castiel would let him take some of his blood before he’d sail away, so he’d have some money to start with. But even If he wouldn't, that’d be fine too, he’d figure it out.
“OK. I’ll start packing for the both of us.” Sam said, which made Dean shoot his head up to look at him so fast it almost gave him a whiplash.
“What?! No way! You’re staying here, with a guaranteed roof over your head, and with school that you need to finish if you want to go to college, and I know you want to go to college.”
Sam looked at him like he just fell from the moon. “What do you think is going to happen after you leave? Do you really think dad will let me go to college? He’ll probably make me quit school, after he won’t have you around. And do you really think I don’t know you act as my shield when it comes to dad’s rage? Who do you think he’ll turn to with all of it when you’re gone? I’m going with you!”
It felt like a punch in his guts to hear Sam talking like that. He knew it would be difficult for both Sam and his dad to adjust to life without him around, but he never thought about the devastating future Sam had described, though now, when he was thinking about it, it was the most probable one. Whether he was fine with taking Sam with him or not didn’t seem to matter to Sam, though, because he was already on his feet, throwing clothes into a duffle bag.
“Fine. But you have to promise me that after we’ll figure things out and settle down, you’ll be going back to school. I will not let you throw your future away just because we got thrown a curveball.”
“Right back at you.” Sam countered without missing a beat. “I bet you could get a GED and learn whatever you want to when you wouldn’t have dad to put your spirit down all the time.”
Dean couldn’t help but smile from what his brother just said. He was a good kid. He did a good job with him. With this thought on his mind, and an even stronger than before determination to do right by Castiel, and now by Sammy too, he got up to start packing up food for the road.
*
He couldn’t find the keys to open the locks his dad used to chain Castiel up, but he did find an industrial heavy duty bolt chain lock wire cutter in the boat’s cabin. After tying the boat at what Dean hoped was the right spot, both holding flashlights, and Dean holding the cutter as well, he and Sam made their way to the cave Castiel was chained in.
Inside, lit by the beams for their flashlights that were shining directly on him from where they stood at the mouth of the cave, was Castiel, asleep, with his tail curled around himself as much as the chains allowed him to be. Dean felt Sam halting behind him, heard him gasp and then huff, and then he was walking right past him and closer to the sleeping creature.
Castiel, probably woken up by Sam's noises and the sudden sound of his approaching footsteps, opened his eyes and, obviously confused and distressed by the blinding light directed on him, cried out in terror, and then started to snarl menacingly, exposing his sharp teeth. Immediately, Dean was by his side, pushing Sam’s flashlight away from his face on the way.
“Cas, it's OK, it's me.”
Castiel’s body sagged against Dean’s when he realized who was next to him.
“Dean… You came back.”
“Of course I did. I told you I would.” He smiled at Castiel, noticing he didn’t look much worse to wear than when he left him this morning.
“This is Sam. Sam, this is Castiel.”
Castiel smiled and nodded, while Sam awkwardly waved.
“Hello Sam, nice to finally meet you.”
When nothing else happened after that, Dean got up and showed Castiel the cutter he brought.
“I’m going to cut you free now, so hold still. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you in the process.”
I took some maneuvering, and the strength of both his and Sam’s combined, but they managed to break the locks and unchain Castiel.
“Thank you! Thank you both!”
Castiel sounded relieved, but it didn't last long.
“What do we do now? Wouldn’t your dad come back and try to hunt me again? And what about you? Wouldn’t your dad be mad at you?”
“Well…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Sam and I are not going back home to our dad. We are setting sails to find a new place to settle in, far away from here. I was hoping that maybe you would like to come with us, if you want, of course. You don’t have to.”
He was looking at Castiel in anticipation of what he was going to say. He would be disappointed if Castiel wouldn’t want to come with them, but he would totally understand. Castiel just went through a traumatic ordeal because of him, so leaving a familiar place to join him to an unknown future was a lot to ask for.
“I would love to come with you,”
Dean’s heart soared with happiness to hear that.
“But,”
And then it crashed to the ground. There was always a ‘but.’
“I can’t leave the shallow waters, remember? It will make your trip longer and give your father more opportunities to catch up with you. I don’t want to be a burden.”
Dean would have none of this bullshit. “Then it’ll take longer, I don’t care. And Sammy has no say in that because he’s here despite what I said, so he already wasted his veto card for tonight.”
Sam gave him a bitch face for that, but didn’t otherwise argue with him.
Castiel seemed to think about what he said for a while, so Dean took that time to examine him to make sure he was not badly injured.
“Fine.” Castiel said at last. “I’ll go with you. And to compensate you for your added risk of taking me with you, you can take my blood and use it anytime you need.”
“You don’t have to do it, man, you owe us nothing.” He needed him to understand. “I want you to come with us not because of your blood, but because I like you. You are my friend. I’ll never exploit you like that. I mean, it’s generous of you, and maybe it will come in handy sometimes, but I would never ask you to do that for us.”
“I know you would never ask me for that, you are too kind and caring, that is why I offered.” Castiel looked at him fondly. “I would be glad to help in any way I could. I can’t build you a house to live in, and I can’t protect you from the dangers of the land, but I can give you the means to have a better financial prospect, and I would be honored to do so.”
“You can’t say things like that, Cas.” Dean’s face was heating up. “You make it sound like I’m important or something like that.”
“That’s because you are important. I may have known you for a short time, but you are a good man, and you are my friend. You know I don’t have many of those anymore. Apart from Meg-”
Castiel abruptly stopped.
“Meg! She’s probably so worried about me! I have to find her to let her know I’m fine, and to tell her I’m leaving. Will it be OK with you to wait here for while I do that?”
That was a no-brainer.
“Of course, go ease her mind. I know I almost went crazy from worrying about you when you didn’t show up to our meetings, and she knows you for much longer than I do. Besides, I made you wait for me for hours today, I think we can wait for you for a while. Tell her I said Hi, and that I thank her again for helping you save me.”
Castiel seemed hesitant for a second.
“I will need you to help me get to the water, though. I don’t think I have the energy to wriggle all the way there.”
“Yes, right, no problems. Sam, you take his tail, I’ll take his upper body, OK? Cas, is it OK?”
With Castiel’s approval, they lifted him up and carried him to the water line, near the boat. As they lowered him to the water, Sam asked, obviously concerned.
“Are you sure you are strong enough to swim? Maybe we could take you there with the boat? Don’t take it the wrong way, but you look weak, and from what I understand, you were kept in that cave for days without food.”
“Non taken.” Castiel smiled. “Thank you for your concern, Sam, but assure you that I’m fine. I’m weaker than usual, this is true, but I’m far from too weak to swim. Besides, I know my way underwater, and could probably navigate my way blind. I don’t, however, know how to navigate above the water. It shouldn’t take me long. In the meantime, Dean could explain to you why being without food all those days has no effect on me. I’ll be back.”
With that, he slipped gracefully underwater, and swam away.
Indeed, while waiting for Castiel, Dean gave Sam the recap of what happened from the evening he was saved by Castiel. He told him about what he knew about Cas, about his people, and about the curse they casted on him. All the while, Sam seemed fascinated, and kept asking questions that Dean had no answers to. Most were questions Dean has thought about as well, but didn’t have the opportunity to ask Castiel yet. Now that they were going to travel together, and then settle in the same place, he would have all the opportunities he needed.
About half an hour later, they saw a dim light underwater, approaching them. Not long after, Castiel’s head popped up out of the water near the boat, and the dim light seemed to circle around his body, which was still under the otherwise dark water. Before either Dean or Castiel could say something, Sam wandered out loud.
“How are you glowing underwater?”
“I’m not.” Castiel answered.
Dean chuckled. “It seems like I’m not the only one who refuses to let you go. Did she come here to fight me over you? Because I have to say, I don’t think it’ll be a fair match.”
“What?” Sam looked between Dean, Castiel, and the dim circling light, puzzled.
“Sam, I’m not the one that’s glowing. This is Meg, my glowing jellyfish friend I was going to say goodbye to.”
Sam’s face lit up in understanding, as he presumably connected the dots between the name, the fact that Dean asked Castiel to thank Meg for helping to save him, and the glowing jellyfish Dean told him about just a few minutes before, the one that was in a jar and illuminated their first meeting. Sammy was very smart, but sometimes it took him a while to put two and two together.
“And Dean, no, she’s not here to fight you, although now that I have the idea in my mind, I think I would like to see it. She is actually here to join us. When I told her I’m leaving, she firmly informed me that she’ll be coming along. I did make her promise me that when she feels tired or when she feels that we go too fast for her, she’ll tell me and I’ll put her in this jar I brought, and either me or the boat will carry her for a while.”
“And she just agreed to this?” Dean asked.
“Like you said earlier, I told her she had no say in that matter, because she was going to be here despite what I said, so she had already wasted her veto card for tonight.”
That made Dean throw his head backwards in a full body laughter.
“She also said she would do it if I would do it as well. Not the jar and he carrying me, but that if I’m too tired or if it’s too fast of a swim for me, I’ll tell you and let the boat carry me for a while. I agreed, so here we are. I hope it’s alright with you.”
Still trying to calm himself from laughing so hard, Dean dried his eyes.
“It’s not a problem at all. And I like your ideas a lot, both of yours. Meg, hop in the jar; Cas, let Sammy and me hop both of you to the boat. It’s the middle of the night, after you were captured for a few days, and we all need a rest. I’ll take the first shift at the wheel, get us away from here, while the rest of you sleep. In the morning, Sammy, you’ll take over and I’ll get some shut eyes. And who knows, maybe your curse only binds you to the shallow waters when you are in it. Have you ever tried sailing above it?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
“Great. Something to try, then. But first, let's get everybody on board. The faster we leave, the farther away we’ll be when our dad will eventually wake up. And the farthest away from him - the better.”
“Aye-aye captain!” Sam mock saluted.
They made sure Castiel was comfortable where he was perching on the deck, and that Meg’s jar was firmly secured to the railing beside him, and with a final look towards the place they called home until that very moment, and where their dad what drunkenly asleep and still blissfully unaware of what was going on, they sailed away.