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Chapter Text

Dean and Sam arrived in the small town, which lay cradled in the midst of a dark forest, in the middle of a snowstorm. They’d been traveling in their sleigh for two days, while wolves hunted them across the mountains of Transylvania.

Dean’s legs were frozen stiff.

He hadn’t moved them in quite some time, as had just been sitting on the sleigh’s seat next to Sam, waiting for their journey into Transylvania’s wilderness to finally be over. Snowflakes swirled and tumbled all around them, as if they couldn’t decide which way to go: upwards to the dark sky, or downwards to the snow-covered ground. Dean watched them settle on Sam’s eyelashes, where they slowly melted, just to freeze again onto his skin.

Eventually, Dean could see the glimmering lights of the small village in the valley below. It was where all those mysterious deaths had been reported. Sam had heard about them from a colleague, but said colleague’s report had lacked all the precious details that would’ve allowed them to tell what kind of case of the supernatural this would turn out to be. Dean knew Sam was silently hoping for vampires, which could allow him to prove his theories about bats and the vampire’s sleep cycles right. As they headed down to the village, Dean’s gut told him that Sam might be right.

The cold had frozen Dean’s joints to the point he was unable to move them. The only source of heat was his hulking brother sitting next to him, but that didn’t help all that much, with the freezing wind blowing around their faces. He was frozen through to his bones—couldn’t feel his toes anymore, couldn’t bend his knees.

The village’s tiny red brick cottages scattered around the town square. They sat like squat little men, their coat collars stiff and raised to cover their necks from frostbite, ducking their heads in the cold winter night. Dean guessed that the snow wouldn’t melt until June… July, maybe. Sam led their carriage to a halt in front of what had to be the inn. The windows of the big room downstairs were lit up. There had to be people inside.

The winter wind whistled loudly and gripped the tavern’s shutters with its chilly hands, crashing them against the red brick walls.

“Brrr…” Sam said loudly, calming down their unruly horse. It stepped nervously from left to right, like it felt the same unease Dean experienced as he looked at the vacant town square. He couldn’t wait to leave this place again and return to the safety of their home. But it was their duty to hunt monsters, and he was here to help his little brother.

“That’s it?” Dean whispered, wrinkling his forehead. He dragged the heavy woolen cloak closer around his shoulders. He couldn’t grab it right, and it slipped through his stiff fingers, settling on his shoulder, with only half of it covered. “Doesn’t look like much,” he added.

“I know. But here is where it happened. We should head inside.” Sam peeled his hands off the leather reins. “My fingers are practically frozen.”

Dean tried to wiggle his toes inside his shoes, but he couldn’t even feel them, let alone move them. “Yeah, alright. We should stay here for tonight. Can’t spend another night in the cold.”

“Not really,” Sam said.

The door to the inn opened and a little man appeared, immediately surrounded in the fog of his own frozen breath. He came down the steps, and, standing on the snow right in front of them, he bowed amiably and rubbed his hands together. “Come in, quick,” he said, looking past them and into the darkness. “You must be freezing.”

Sam slowly climbed off the carriage, blowing hot air onto his fingers. “Thank you,” he said.

“It’s not good to stay outside this late at night. I’m Chagal, the innkeeper,” the little man said. “Come on, come on.” Chagal pointed at the open door.

Sam went around the sleigh, loosened the rope that bound all their bags to the back of it, and pulled Dean’s heavy, brown leather suitcase out.

With stiff legs, Dean climbed down off the sleigh. His feet hit the ground and he sank into the snow, ankles-deep. He walked, encumbered, to Sam and took his bag from him. Sam turned around, quickly unfastening the rope that held down his own suitcase.

“There you go,” Sam said while Dean was already wading through the snow towards the inn door.

Chagal was holding it open for him, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. “Hurry now,” he said.

Dean walked into a wall of heat that, for a brief moment, took his breath away. The smoke that filled the inn’s main room made his eyes water. Customers sat around the table, and the moment Dean carried his heavy leather suitcase inside, the room fell silent. Men stared at him, their mouths open and their eyes wide, as if he was a ghost. They looked like rough mountain folk, with their thick beards and tanned, leathery faces. People working and living in an inexorable environment, always fighting against nature.

An older woman rushed in, carrying a bucket of water, which she poured into the empty cauldron that hung over the fire. She must be the innkeeper’s wife, Dean assumed, since she looked about the man’s age.

“Come here,” she said, looking at Dean and pointing at the fireplace. “Sit and warm up.” She dragged two chairs to the fire and waved for him to come over.

Dean looked back at his brother, who carried his own heavy bag into the inn. The door fell shut behind Sam, and Chagal quickly barricaded it with a heavy plank, then crossed himself and let out a sigh.

As if the door’s loud thud had lifted the tension off the folks inside the inn, their mumbling reared up again, laying itself over the tavern like a thick woolen blanket. Dean exhaled deeply as, at least, some of the tension he’d felt outside left his body. They had arrived at their destination safely, after traveling through the unforgiving mountainsides of Transylvania.

“Sit, come on,” the innkeeper’s wife said, then turned towards a younger woman, whose rosy cheeks shone deep red in the fire’s light. “Magda, help these young men.”

The maiden smiled shyly at Dean as she fell to her knees over by the fireplace. She was pretty, in a rough way, with her muscular arms and thick neck.

Heavy hands landed on Dean’s shoulders. “Come on. Magda will help,” said Chagal, leading Dean over to the fireplace. The innkeeper’s wife stripped Dean of his cloak as he sat down, and Magda opened his shoes, pulled his socks off, and rubbed across the cold skin of his feet. With a moan, Dean sank deeper into the wooden chair. Her warm hands against his skin felt amazing, and he couldn’t help but notice her ample cleavage and rosy bosom while she worked on his feet. He forced himself to stare at it longer than he wanted to. Breasts didn’t interest him at all, but he’d learned to pretend.

Magda looked up at him and smiled. Her mistaking his attention for affection relaxed him. It had taken him long enough to learn how to mask his misguided sexuality properly. He was interested in men. It was a cold, hard fact of his pathetic, loveless life. And since it was a desire that wasn’t to be spoken of, he couldn’t confide it in anyone. Not a priest, not Sam. In this he was alone. He’d learned that early in life.

Sam sat down next to him and nodded. “Feels good, hm?” he said, grinning at him. Sam’s gaze quickly turned to Magda’s cleavage.

Behind them, Chagal asked his wife: “Rebecca, are the rooms ready for the gentlemen?”

Without answering, she went to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

Magda gently lowered Dean’s feet into a bowl of steaming water she’d taken from the cauldron, then, thankfully switched from Dean’s feet to Sam’s. Dean, finally freed of the burden of having to stare at that woman’s breasts, looked into the crackling fire.

Sam turned around, and suddenly, his eyes lit up with boundless joy. He stared at the ceiling, patting Dean’s shoulder, and pointed upwards. Up there, tied to the rafters hung huge bunches of garlic in festoons. Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d never seen this much garlic in one place, which could only mean one thing: people here were afraid of vampires.

Sam tapped his shoulder again, turned around, and pointed at the windows. There hung more bunches of garlic. On the windowsills sat vases that contained large bunches of dried white and violet garlic flowers.

A huge grin manifested on Sam’s lips, and he gently nudged Dean with his elbow. He leaned towards him and whispered in Dean’s ear, voice quivering with excitement: “Garlic…”

“Garlic.” Dean nodded. “I’ve noticed.” Dean stared at the garlic, swallowing a lump in his throat. It would be only a matter of time now until they could fulfill the mission that’d brought them here… hunt down the monsters that were haunting these people. So, Sam really was right… It was vampires that killed the people here, and, obviously, they knew.

Sam turned around and waved at Chagal, who stood by the dinner table.

Chagal nodded, then hurried over to them. “Are you not pleased with Magda’s service?” he asked.

“Yeah, um… very pleased.” Sam nodded. “Chagal, do you have a minute?”

“Any length of time you may desire. The whole winter, and indeed, all of summer as well. At Yoine Chagal’s, it’s your home away from home.”

Sam cleared his throat, rubbing over his stubbled chin. “Right. So tell me…”

“Yes?”

“That garlic?”

“There’s no garlic here,” Chagal said coldly.

Sam pointed at the bunches of garlic and looked up. “What’s that up there?”

“Up there?” Chagal raised his eyes deviously, then rubbed his neck. “That’s just a bit of garlic.” He straightened himself, shook his head. “Don’t mention the garlic to me. Business is already bad enough.”

“There’s a castle nearby, isn’t there?” asked Sam.

Chagal’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “On the word of Yoine, there’s no more a castle here than a windmill!” He turned around, then said loudly into the room: “Does anyone know a windmill in the district?”

The whole room fell silent. Just the shuffling of feet disturbed the sudden quiet.

Sam turned around. “And a castle? Does anyone know a castle?”

One man opened his mouth, but a gurgling sound was all that came out of his throat. Quickly, the man sitting next to him slapped his hand over his mouth.

“No castle, no windmill,” Chagal said. With a crooked grin, he shrugged, then turned around and hurried towards the kitchen.

***

Once they’d warmed up, Chagal led them up a wooden flight of stairs and to their room. It was small and sparse, with only two single beds nearly filling up the whole room, leaving not much space for their bags. Beneath the window dangled another thick strand of garlic, and on the nightstands sat candles that lit the room dimly. Sam slowly walked inside, staring first at the garlic, then at the window, then at the garlic again. He cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything.

Chagal’s cheeks glowed as he walked around the room. “One of the only two in the house that have their own bathroom.” He maneuvered their luggage to sit in between the beds, then walked to a closed door which was located directly opposite of the innermost bed. “Look.” He opened the door.

Dean followed him and stared inside a tiny room, in which a slipper-bath took up nearly all the space. He hadn’t expected a bathroom in a countryside inn like this one. It didn’t seem like it had any connection to a water line, but, still, he was pleased. He nodded.

“We can bring warm water up, if you want to take a bath,” Chagal said. “Magda can heat the water up for you.”

Dean’s muscles still felt stiff. A warm bath might do wonders in helping him relax. “That sounds great.”

“Of course. I’ll tell Magda to fill it up,” said Chagal. “She’ll knock at the bathroom door from the inside once the bath is ready.” He bowed his head. Oddly enough, he exited their bedroom backwards, shutting the door behind him.

Dean walked back into the bedroom. He was already looking forward to relaxing in the bathtub.

Sam sat down on the bed next to the window. Still staring at the garlic, he muttered: “Incredible.” He stood up suddenly, like he’d been suddenly ripped from a daydream, and went for his suitcase. He gripped the handle, laid it on the floor and opened it. Inside the suitcase, right next to the wooden stakes, lay a leather-bound book. Sam opened it, then held it out for Dean to take. He pointed at a paragraph. “Read this to me.”

Dean took the book, held it close to a candle, and read: “According to Alibori, they cast no reflected image. Thus, for example, one cannot see them (and nor can they see themselves) in a mirror, nor in any other object serving the same purpose, such as water, window-panes, etc.…”

Loud steps sounded in the hallway, and a door creaked nearby. Confused, Dean looked up and around.

“Go on,” Sam said.

Dean blinked. “Yeah, okay. So, water, window-panes, etc…” Dean lifted his head and listened into the silence. He turned his head around as someone knocked on the bathroom door from the other side.

“It’s just your stupid bathwater,” Sam shrugged.

Dean grinned up at him, closing the book and laying it to the side. “My wonderful bathwater you mean.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

***

Dean relaxed into the hot water. He pushed all thoughts of garlic and vampires to the peripheries of his mind, sinking deeper into the tub. Absent-mindedly, he teased his hard nipples with his thumb, enjoying the pleasurable sting that went right to his thickening cock. If he could’ve been sure that Sam was not going to step into the bathroom whenever he saw fit, his hand would’ve traveled lower, beneath the waterline where his eager cock begged to be touched.

Dean forced his hands to hold onto the bathtub’s sides instead. He stared up and through the skylight into the night’s eternal darkness, but his mind quickly wandered back to the carnal.

Sam knew his boundaries, didn’t he? He might be lying in bed taking care of himself.

Dean’s hands returned to his nipples. After a short tug, he bit his lower lip as his right hand moved on further down, breached the water, and grabbed his half-hard cock to gently stroke it. Sam knew Dean needed his privacy. He wouldn’t just barge in without knocking.

Closing his eyes, Dean reached around himself with his left hand. His finger traveled down his crack to find his hole. He couldn’t help himself; he dipped inside, imagining a big man bending him over, pushing his thick cock into his hole balls-deep. A desperate moan escaped him. There was nothing he desired more than being taken like that. This was exactly what he needed to blow off steam after traveling through the snowy plains of Transylvania for two days and nights straight.

Now he imagined himself being bent over and pounded into. Dean had never had an interest in women, had never wanted to thrust his dick inside a vagina, and had never longed to kiss a woman’s plump lips.

Dean wanted to be a maiden himself—longed for strong hands to part his legs and a hot, hard cock to split him open.

Dean moaned as he pushed his own fingers inside himself, the stretch and the friction driving him mad. Normally he used vaseline to ease the glide, but there was no way he could go into the bedroom and get it from his suitcase, was there? So, he pushed his finger in despite the discomfort, imagining a cock forcing him open. Dean moaned as he thrust up into his fist, elevating himself above the water line.

What would it be like, if a handsome stranger were interested in him like that? Dean’s head pushed backwards against the bathtub’s wall as his cock pulsed against his palm.

He opened his eyes and looked up through the window, just to stare into piercing blue eyes. It took him a moment to realize that those blue eyes belonged to the most handsome face he’d ever seen. He wasn’t shocked or alarmed, like he should’ve been. He was fascinated. Hypnotized, even.

The stranger licked his lips, exposing elongated canines as he watched Dean jerk himself off, and Dean wanted to put on a show of pleasure, the need to come already boiling underneath his skin. This was madness, Dean realized as his balls tightened.

“Fuck,” Dean cursed. Pleasure overpowered him. His lips parted as he came, and he shot his cum onto his stomach. He couldn’t help but stare into the handsome stranger’s eyes. The stranger stared right back at Dean.

“Dean.” Sam knocked against the bathroom door thunderously. “Dean, are you okay?”

Dean sat back down in the water, then turned around to shout through the bathroom door: “I’m fine, Sammy!”

“For a second I was sure something was off.”

“Nah, everything’s great.” Dean looked back up through the window, but the stranger had vanished. “Just great,” Dean whispered to himself. He sank further into the water with a sigh.

***

The next morning, Sam and Dean had a late breakfast. Two empty bowls sat in front of them, which had contained the oatmeal Rebecca had prepared. It’d come unsweetened and without any fruit, so it’d tasted like cardboard to Dean. He’d eaten it anyway, and now, at least, he wasn’t hungry anymore.

Dean stared at the big slices of buttered pumpernickel bread that sat on the plate in front of him. Its crust was almost as dark as the handsome stranger’s hair from last night. He hadn’t been able to get him out of his mind, and now he was absentmindedly staring at the bread like it was him, thinking about those piercing blue eyes that had watched him as he’d jerked off.

He couldn’t help but wonder if it’d all been nothing but a dream. Maybe his mind had made this man up, to grant him some kind of refuge in this cold, otherworldly place.

“Dean?” Sam grabbed one of the slices of bread and bit into it. “What’s going on?”

Dean stared at his plate and blushed. How could he be so infatuated with someone he didn’t even know? But his mind always returned to that man, like it was pointing at him, trying to tell Dean something he didn’t quite understand yet.

Dean looked at his brother and blinked. “It’s nothing. Just… nothing.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow, but then turned his head as one of the three other guests that were sitting at the other side of the room, barked a loud laugh and slapped his mate’s shoulder. Sam shook his head, then bit into the buttered pumpernickel.

Outside, skids glided over snow and horses neighed loudly as the townsfolk went about their business. Their hooves clopped across the wooden planks, the sounds damped by the thick layer of snow that still covered the road. “Hoooo,” a dark voice said.

The kitchen door fell shut with a thud and Magda, the maid, walked to their table, lush hips swaying. She leaned across the table as she refilled Dean’s coffee pot and winked at him.

“Dude.” Sam poked him in the ribs with his elbow and nodded at Magda’s cleavage. It was rosy and voluptuous and the dress seemed to barely tame her breasts.

Dean stared at it out of obligation, then nodded at Magda in fake appreciation. She blushed and smiled, winking again. Oh boy. Hopefully she didn’t expect him to come to her door in the middle of the night tonight. Because that was what women expected from men, right? Seeking them out in the middle of the night to make sweet love beneath the sheets.

The door to the outside opened. A little man with a huge hunchback stood on the threshold. His arms were too long for his body, and his hairy hands hung at knee level. He moved his lower jaw left to right, then turned back and spit on the ground in front of the inn door.

The other guests fell silent suddenly, ducking their shoulders and staring at the Hunchback. Sam gazed at Dean, then nodded in the man’s direction, like he wanted to say: Look at that.

Magda quickly put her pot of coffee down on the table, then ducked and hid underneath it, crawling close to Dean, who leaned to the side to peer down at her in surprise. Staring at him with fear in her eyes, she put an index finger up to her lips in the universal sign of, “Shh!”

Hunchback looked around the room. The other customers didn’t meet his pervasive stare, instead averting their gaze, peering at the floor. He limped towards the counter, behind which Chagal stood, his shoulders hunched. Wood clogs clattered over the wooden floor, as Hunchback stomped towards him. He hit the counter with his flat hand, then whispered something to him, followed by inarticulate noises that sounded to Dean like growls and hisses, but Chagal just shook his head. He then turned around, and had to have opened a trap-door in the floor behind the counter, as he disappeared downwards into what must be a cellar beneath the main room.

Hunchback glared over his shoulder at each and every customer inside the room. When his gaze met Dean’s, a cold shiver ran down his spine, chilling him to the bone.

Magda inched further back, between Dean’s legs, grabbed Dean’s right leg, and pressed her back against the inner thigh of his left, like she wanted to disappear from Hunchback’s sight.

Chagal reappeared out of the trap door, red-faced and puffing. He carried a big bundle of white candles over his shoulder. Stepping out behind the counter, he threw it at Hunchback, who shoved his right hand into his coat pocket and threw two coins on the counter. He stepped forward to pick up the candles from the floor, then huffed and grunted appreciatively.

“Fascinating,” whispered Sam, leaning closer to Dean. He stared at Hunchback the same way he’d stared at the garlic last night. Like he was an object of science, not a horrid creature invading the inn. Sometimes Dean couldn’t understand Sam’s way of looking at the world. He found interesting what others feared deeply.

Hunchback went out the door, and after it fell shut behind him, the man who’d barked a laugh before he’d arrived stood up and spit at the door and cursed.

“Dean… Did you see?” Sam asked.

“Revolting,” Dean said.

Sam leaned to the side and ducked his head. “Why are you under the table?” he asked Magda.

Slowly Magda crawled out from under the table. With trembling fingers, she straightened her dress, then picked up her pot with shaking fingers. The coffee uneasily splashed against the insides of the pot.

“Hm…” Sam said, then leaned over to grab Dean’s shirt by the lapels. “This is highly peculiar. We need to follow him; he might be on his way to the castle.”

Dean swallowed, then nodded. Sam might be right; this might be their one chance to find the vampires they’d come here to hunt.

“Go follow him. I’ll grab our coats and weapons from the room.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, alright.” Dean pushed his chair back, then got up and moved towards the exit, pushing the door open.

Outside, Hunchback was checking the leather reins that were wrapped around the snouts of the two cadaverous black horses, which were harnessed to an equally black sleigh.

Quickly, Dean fled to the side and crouched behind the short wall encircling a snow-covered well.

Hunchback patted the horses’ flanks. He held onto the sleigh, then jumped up nimbly onto his seat. He looked dumbfounded and struck with immobility. Only his eyes moved, glaring, as they flitted about the square like a bird of prey. Searching... No, hunting. He looked at the well Dean was hiding behind, then his eyes wandered up the inn’s façade, until they transfixed on a window at the very top. Dean followed his gaze, finding a red-headed woman with skin so white it was almost translucent staring down at him through the window. Hunchback smiled at her wickedly and displayed a toothless mouth.

Ducking his head, Dean turned around and pressed his back against the cold bricks of the well wall. His heart hammered inside his chest, and he breathed in deeply, frantically, trying to steady himself. He shook his head at her, but she only gently smiled.

A whip cracked loudly, followed by the horses snorting. Dean turned around again, finding Hunchback’s sleigh was just starting off. He pressed his eyes shut. He had to go after Hunchback. They might never get this chance to find the castle again. Dean dashed out behind the well and leaped onto the runners on the back of Hunchback’s sleigh. Blindly, he grabbed a plank at the back of the sleigh’s side and held onto it desperately, standing on the sleigh’s skids with shaking knees.

Dean saw the inn growing smaller as the sleigh gained speed. Someone exited the inn’s front door, dressed in a cloak, carrying a leather suitcase. It had to be Sammy, coming to his aid just a minute too late. Dean held tightly onto the coarse wooden plank he was standing on, while the sleigh glided over its snow-covered path. “Sammy,” Dean whispered, staring at the tiny figure of his brother, which grew smaller by the second, and eventually disappeared behind a wall of snow as the path they were on turned left.

Dean’s teeth chattered as the cold crept into his bones. Ice formed in his hair, and stiffened his fingers. All he could hear were the horses snorting and the damp sound of their hooves punching holes in the ice-topped snow. They entered a dense pine forest. The white treetops stuck like needles into the blue, cloudless sky.

Dean winced as a long howl broke forth. Suddenly, the sleigh came to a halt. Not letting go of the plank he had in a vice grip, Dean leaned to the side and looked around the corner of the sleigh, just to see a lone wolf lurking in the middle of the track. He growled at Hunchback, baring its teeth.

Almost like a monkey, Hunchback jumped to the ground. He mumbled, then laughed, and walked slowly forwards, dragging his left foot behind, leaving a deep notch in the otherwise plain snow on the road.

The wolf moved backwards and away from him, its tail tucked between its legs. It snarled at Hunchback, its fur bristling, then dashed to the side, disappearing into the woods. But Hunchback followed close behind, running after the beast. After a silent moment of false peace, a sudden and violent howl ripped through the air. A terrible scream made Dean gasp in surprise. Sounds of an agonizing death-rattle echoed through the pine trees until silence covered them again. With shaking fingers, Dean clutched to the sleigh, his legs trembling.

Hunchback stepped out through the woods. His steps were hindered by the deep snow. He stopped a few paces from the sleigh, and with a wide, slow sweep of his forearm, he wiped his bloodstained mouth. He jumped back onto his seat, and cracked his whip. With a jolt, the sleigh moved forward.

It moved out under Dean’s grip, and he tumbled off and onto the ground, landing with his face in the snow.

He rolled over, just to end up lying stunned on the frozen ground. He watched the sleigh drive off, and, as it finally vanished, he barked a laugh. Soft snowflakes fell on him, and got caught in his eyelashes. He just stared at the blue sky, across which one white fluffy cloud drifted peacefully. The tracks would soon be covered by the falling snow.

Images of the handsome stranger drifted through Dean’s mind as he lay in the snow, and he allowed himself to be caught up in them.

He only felt cold in the beginning, but slowly lost any sense of his body. He wished for Castiel to save him. Wished to be in his arms, warm beside a crackling fireplace. Wished to feel his touch, his hand running up an inner thigh, without having to tell Castiel what he needed. Eventually, his eyes fell shut, and he retreated to the safe space in his mind where Castiel waited for him.

***

“Dean!” Sam’s loud yell snapped Dean back to reality, and his eyelids drifted open. “Dean! What the hell?” Sam knelt beside him in the snow, then dragged him up to sit upright. “Come on. You’re freezing cold.”

Pushing himself up, Dean realized he couldn’t even feel his fingers anymore. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Let’s get you back to the inn.”

***

“Where is it?!” Sam yelled at Chagal.

Dean sat by the fire. His teeth were still chattering. He was able to bend his fingers again, but was still chilly to the bone. Having lost all feeling of time while lying in the snow, watching the tracks of the sleigh (and thus his lifeline to his vampire) disappear under the blustery wind and steady flakes of the storm, he had no idea how long he’d been out in the cold until Sam had found him. But now it was nightfall again, and the inn’s door had been barricaded shut.

Chagal put his hand on his forehead and said: “I swear I don’t know.”

“You are lying!”

“May I never see the New Year if I know where it is,” Chagal replied calmly.

Sam stared at him, then yelled, his voice ringing with wrath: “Come on. The garlic. That hunchback. Your conniving looks. This conspiracy of silence amongst you. Don’t try and teach your grandmother to suck eggs.” Sam stepped closer to Dean, and laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder: “My brother didn’t hesitate to follow him. And now look at him. We’ve been trying to get him warm the whole afternoon, but he’s still freezing.”

“I’ll have Magda pour him a bath.” Chagal said, snapping his fingers.

“You better.” Sam went for the door that led to the staircase, opened it, and turned back. He shouted towards the room: “I shall find the damn castle myself.”

***

Dean stared at the steam that rose from the water while he shed his clothes. Slowly he dunked his fingers inside, and felt its heat sting his still-cold skin like needles. He looked back over his shoulder, debated with himself if he should ask them if the water was too hot for him to use, but then decided differently. Instead, he stepped inside, and gritted his teeth as the water stung him like fire.

“This is fine,” Dean whispered to himself. “This is totally fine.”

A scratching noise sounded above, and Dean looked up at the window, only to find the handsome stranger staring down at him again. Drawn towards him, Dean stood up in the bathtub, standing on tiptoes, and stretching his arm up to undo the window’s latch. He let the window open, and cold wind blew inside, making him shiver. Through the opened window, the man slipped inside quickly, hung from the roof and swung onto the bathroom floor. He wore a white frilly shirt and tight black pants, all covered by an elegant tailcoat. He closed the window behind himself and stared at Dean. “Sit,” he commanded Dean.

The hot water sloshed against the porcelain as Dean sat down.

The man approached him, and bent over. “You,” he said, reaching for Dean’s throat. But instead of grabbing him, his hand traveled up, and he caressed Dean’s cheek gently, while Dean stared into his dark blue eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

Dean bit his bottom lip and nodded. He wasn’t afraid of the man, whose touch was so wonderfully warm and comforting.

“I’m Castiel,” he said. “But don’t tell anyone my name.”

Again, Dean nodded. He was so close, almost close enough to kiss. “Cas,” he whispered.

While still caressing Dean’s cheek with his right hand, Castiel lifted his left wrist to his mouth and bit down on his own flesh. Blood dripped from his hand, and he pressed the bleeding wound to Dean’s lips. “Drink.”

Hesitantly, at first, Dean opened his mouth. Drops of the most delicious ambrosia he’d ever tasted fell onto his tongue, and he grabbed the arm that was nurturing him with blood, sucking greedily.

Castiel smiled. He laid his right hand on Dean’s nape, steadying Dean’s head while Dean was drinking. “So good,” Castiel praised.

A shiver more pleasurable than what he’d ever felt before ran down Dean’s spine, thickening his cock, and he writhed around in the water, chasing a friction that just wasn’t there.

“That’s enough,” Castiel said after a while.

Eyes drooping, Dean licked over the man’s wrist one last time, then slowly slid back into the hot water. He felt good. Far better than before. Warm and cozy, with the hot water lulling him into a sense of contented safety.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear, making his cock tingle in need. “May I touch you?”

Weakly, Dean nodded. He wanted Castiel to touch him wherever Castiel wanted to. He wanted to be with him—needed him, he realized. Castiel was a drug he hadn’t known he craved.

The vampire’s warm hand slowly traveled down Dean’s chest and underneath the water line. Dean’s hips thrust up in excitement. He couldn’t wait to be touched by this man. Dean’s lips parted, hoping for a kiss.

Hot fingers wrapped around his cock. Dean gripped the edges of the bathtub and gasped at the intense, lustful touch.

“You’re a sweet virgin,” whispered Castiel. His lips brushed over Dean’s, but he didn’t kiss him. He only teased. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Dean moaned. Sharp pleasure stung him like needles and his balls tensed. He was so close already, needed just a bit more.

Castiel stroked Dean’s cock expertly, stopping when Dean was close to coming.

“Shh…” Castiel let go of Dean’s cock, leaving him a whimpering heap of flesh. It was as if he knew Dean better than Dean knew himself. It was the sweetest torture, with Dean turning into a needy mess. It was as if Castiel - Cas - could read Dean like an open book. “Mine,” Castiel whispered again, stroking Dean.

“Yes.” Dean was close again. His cock pulsed, and his hole tightened as his crotch muscles tensed. Dean opened his eyes to stare into the most captivating blue eyes in this world and any others. They were darker than the color of a deep, ice water lake, and simultaneously brighter than the winter sky. He couldn’t help himself. He lunged forward and captured the man’s lips in a desperate kiss. “Please,” Dean sobbed.

Castiel thrust his tongue into Dean’s mouth, holding Dean’s pulsing cock in a tight grip.

“Please,” begged Dean again. Castiel stroked him, hard and fast this time.

A loud knock ripped through Dean’s haze of ecstasy.

“Are you alright in there?” Sam shouted through the closed door.

“’M, uh…” Dean couldn’t utter a clear word. He was so close, and his balls hurt.

“Coming in!” Sam said, pushing down the door handle.

Dean turned around in a futile attempt to stop his brother from entering, but failed.

Sam stared at him, then up at the ceiling. “Dude. Why is that window open?”

Underneath the water, Dean’s cock stood hard as a rock. Arousal still percolated underneath his skin. He couldn’t help but snicker madly at the absurdity of the situation as he stared at the open window. Castiel was gone. Was he even real? Or was Dean going mad?

Sam walked around the bathtub, stretched for the window, and closed it. “You’re gonna catch a cold. Dean, you can’t leave the window open while you’re in the bathtub.”

“I’m, uh…” Dean uttered, licking his dry lips. From the corner of his mouth, the tip of his tongue picked up a drop of blood. It tasted richer than the finest chocolate he’d ever eaten. Dean moaned, went lax in the bath. Castiel had been here. And Sam had scared him away.

“Dude, gross,” Sam said, looking down at him. “Now finish whatever you were doing and get out of that bathtub, alright?” Sam shook his head and cursed on his way out, shutting the door behind him.

Dean grabbed his cock, moaning at the intense pleasure. He stroked himself, whispering desperate pleas for Castiel to return to him. Dean came like he’d never done before. It was hot and long. Pleasure imploded inside him and shot up his spine, making him see stars. His cum erupted while he held onto the bathtub’s edge, wishing for Castiel to hold him. He kept staring up into the darkness outside, imagining Castiel watching him. “Yours,” he whispered desperately. “Come back to me, please.”

Chapter Text

When Dean walked back into the bedroom, a sudden scream ripped through the air. Sam shot up from the bed and stared at Dean in shock. He jumped right off the bed, and they ran out of the room, the bedroom door banging against the wall.

“Holy hell,” Dean cursed. He ran up the flight of stairs that led higher up the house, following a gut feeling that told him that this was about that red-haired woman Hunchback had been staring at.

Sam heaved behind him. “Dean, where are you going?”

In the dark, narrow hallway upstairs, Dean looked left to right. There were three wooden doors. He’d seen her standing by the window to the yard, right? He turned right, pushed the door at the end of the hallway open, just to find Chagal, dressed only in a nightshirt and nightcap, sitting on a bed that stood in the middle of the room. The white sheets and pillow were stained with blood. From the ceiling all around him dangled bunches of garlic. He sat there in dumb misery and stared listlessly into space. He blinked as Dean entered the room, tears streaming down his face.

“What the hell?” Sam stopped behind Dean.

“He’s taken her,” Chagal cried. He grabbed the bedsheets in a tight fist. “She’s gone. Sarah’s gone.”

“The redhead?” Dean stared at Chagal in disbelief.

Sam pushed past Dean and into the room. “What’s going on?”

Dean cleared his throat. “The vampires, they took her.”

“Who did they take? And how?” Sam shook his head. “Dean?” He swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bob twice, like it always did when Sam was stressed out.

Dean pressed his mouth shut. Castiel, Cas, wouldn’t have taken an innocent girl. It must’ve been someone else. That wonderful creature couldn’t be the only vampire in town.

“How do you know they took her?” Sam stared at him uncomprehendingly.

Dean raised his eyebrows and shook his head. He was not going to answer that question. That would be way too hard to explain.

And thankfully, he didn’t have to. Sam’s focus switched to Chagal as the man suddenly jumped up, walked around the bed and towards the window. He tore it open, leaned forward, spread his arms, and cried into the night: “Your Excellency…! Your Excellency, von Kyolock…! Give me back my daughter… give her back to me!” Sobbing, he slowly sank to his knees and shook his fists in the air: “My daughter… my little Sarah… Excellency… my little girl…”

Sam paced around the room, running his fingers through his hair, while Dean couldn’t help but stare at Chagal. This guy knew the vampires that were haunting the village. He might’ve even worked with them. Hunchback dropping by didn’t seem like a coincidence anymore. He might well be the vampire’s caretaker during the day.

“This is even worse than I’d thought.” Sam stopped, then said, getting louder with every word: “Chagal. Do you realize what he’s going to do? Suck her. Suck her till he’s drained every drop of her blood. Every drop. Can’t you understand?” But when Chagal wouldn’t react, he shouted: “We could still save your daughter with a transfusion, if we rescue her at once!” Sam pointed at the window with his right arm outstretched. “Where is it? Where is the castle?”

“His Excellency’s castle?” Chagal mumbled.

Sam looked at Dean. “Did you hear that? His Excellency?” Sam turned back to Chagal, then said: “He’s not an Excellency. He’s a vampire, Chagal. Clearly you can see that garlic isn’t enough to keep the vampires away. You certainly put on a good show I would say. But good God, you saw what happened… Will you never get it into your head? Until we’ve destroyed every last one of them, the danger will remain, and evil will spread!”

Dean’s throat ran dry. They wouldn’t kill Cas, right? Any one of those beasts, but not Cas. He was no monster. A monster could never have been that wonderful to him, and Dean’s heart ached to see Cas again.

Sam relaxed his shoulders, then declared: “Chagal, unless you help me, your daughter is going to die. And even when dead, for reasons which I still haven’t fathomed, she will go on living but… without a soul. For her, you will no longer be a father, nor your wife a mother. She will belong to the family of those creatures of the night, a monster amongst soulless monsters until Judgement Day.” Sam fell to his knees in front of Chagal, then asked again: “Where is the castle?”

But Chagal just shook his head. He blankly stared past Sam.

“This is madness,” Sam said, rising to his feet.

They left Chagal in his daughter’s room, and went downstairs. Sam cursed after their bedroom door fell shut behind them. “Moron,” he said, pointing to the bedroom door and slightly upward. “He is a moron. They will all die.”

Dean sat down on his bed, exhaling sharply. “I, um… yeah.” Mine, he remembered Castiel saying. You’re mine. An icy hot shiver ran down his spine. “We can’t do anything right now except go to bed and talk to him tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam said, slipping into bed.

After they’d blown out the candles, Dean stared into the silent darkness surrounding them, thinking about that pair of brilliant blue eyes. He licked across his lips, and just the sheer memory of Castiel’s blood made his mouth water. Cas was a dark prince, wasn’t he? And Dean was his princess.

***

When they went down to have breakfast in the inn’s main room the next morning, the door to the courtyard stood wide open, and an ice-cold breeze was blowing into the room.

“Shit, it’s fucking cold,” Dean hissed as he walked towards the door. He stopped dead as he looked outside and blinked, unsure if what he saw was truly there. Across some lumber placed on a woodcutter’s sleigh lay a body half-covered with a piece of old burlap. The body was completely frozen, its hands raised and strangely bent, its face solidified in an expression of agony. The mouth was opened wide, as if it was screaming, and its eyes stared at something in shock. Rebecca, Chagal’s wife, clutched at it wildly, howling desperately. Only then did Dean realize that the dead man was Chagal, the innkeeper. Three woodcutters, who were standing around the sleigh, fidgeted with their fur caps.

“Oh fuck me,” Dean whispered.

The woodcutters grabbed the body, then carried it inside the inn. Wailing, Rebecca followed them, clutching Chagal’s fur cap to her chest. They placed Chagal on a table. Rebecca fell to her knees, holding onto the edge of the table for support.

Sam shook his head. “I told him, but he wouldn’t listen.” Sam stepped closer to Chagal and bent over, looking closely at Chagal’s wrists. “Look, Dean. They’ve drained him.”

Dean’s gaze followed his brother’s pointed finger. There, Dean found two holes punched into the dead man’s skin, congealed with blood.

Sam pulled up Chagal’s sleeve, inspecting him further. Light blue veins shimmered underneath a skin that seemed paper thin and almost translucent. There were no marks on his throat, but when Sam pulled down one of Chagal’s socks to the ankle, he exposed two more holes right above his foot. He looked at Dean gravely, wrinkling his forehead, and nodded at the small puncture wounds.

“They drained him in the blink of an eye,” Sam murmured.

“Poor Chagal. To end up in the jaws of a wolf, who’d have thought?” one of the woodcutters whispered—a big man with a flat nose and a receding hairline.

Sam looked up at him. “A wolf? You blind wretches! Open your eyes! You know perfectly well who has been at work here.” Sam walked to the side, nodding at Dean. “Come on,” he said quietly, laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and whispered into Dean’s ear: “We need to drive a stake through his heart to make sure he won’t come back.”

A cold shiver ran down Dean’s spine. Rebecca was bent over her dead husband’s body, and crying, clutching tightly to a white handkerchief. There was no way they could stake her husband with her (and all these people) present. “When the inn’s main room clears,” Dean whispered.

“I hope it clears faster than it did when we arrived. I don’t want him to rise from the dead.”

Nodding, Dean stared at the lifeless body. Rebecca fell to her knees, holding onto Chagal’s hand, pressing the back of it against her forehead, sobbing.

“Yeah,” Dean whispered. “Me neither.”

***

It was the middle of the night when the steady murmur of voices from the inn’s main room finally ceased. Sam stood at the door to their bedroom, which was just barely cracked open, listening carefully to the noise that meandered up from downstairs.

A door fell shut with a thud.

Sam had a grave expression on his face when he turned and nodded at Dean. “It’s time,” Sam said. From under the bed, he pulled out their brown leather bag, and put it on the bed. From it, he took a wooden stake, and a hammer.

A wave of uneasiness and excitement tightened Dean’s shoulders. “Let’s go then.” He got up. The prospect of killing a monster always made his skin feel too tight. He grabbed the stake and hammer from Sam, its heavy weight pressed reassuringly into his palm. “Alright.”

Carefully, Sam opened the door the rest of the way, putting his outstretched finger over his lips, signaling to Dean to be silent. Dean nodded and walked behind his brother, his hands tight around the stake and hammer. This is gonna be fine. This is gonna be fine. This is gonna be fine, he recited in his head.

The inn’s main room was dark, only lit by the moon’s light. A floorboard creaked under Sam’s feet as he walked across the room. The sound made Dean freeze instantly. His shoulders tensed, and he took a steeling breath.

Sam looked back at him and grimaced.

Dean raised the wooden stake, and then nodded at the table where Chagal’s body was supposed to be. But the linen cloth that had covered the lifeless body now lay flat on the table, making Dean’s heart sink. “Fucking hell!” he hissed.

Sam furrowed his brows, turned his head towards the table. “Oh no, we’re too late. I feared this would happen.”

A sudden scream ripped through the inn, making both of them whirl around. Sam pointed forward, down the hallway. Dean took off, and ran down the hall. Wasn’t Magda’s chamber down there? He’d seen her walk into that hallway, hadn’t he? His heart sank as he realized the inevitable had happened. Chagal had risen and bit the maid. It was crystal clear. Though he, like Sam, might not have wanted to acknowledge that this was bound to happen; vampires were hungriest right after they rose from the dead.

When they reached the maid’s room, Sam hesitated, breathing in deeply as if he was bracing himself for something horrible. But Dean couldn’t wait any longer. He launched himself forward, his shoulder smashing into the maid’s door.

It opened with a thud. Dean stopped short, breathing heavily, wooden stake raised. Magda stood huddled against the wall next to one end of her bed. She clawed at the wall, as if seeking purchase to climb up it. She stared at the creature standing by the window.

Chagal’s gaze jumped to Dean, and he bared his fangs. With his elbow, he smashed through the windowpane behind him.

Magda’s hands ghosted over the wall. Eyes wide, she pulled a crucifix off a nail. With shaking hands, she held it out to Chagal, who only sneered at the sight. He lurched forward, his mouth open, and his fangs gleaming.

Dean felt a chill deep into his bones.

“That trick won’t work with old Chagal… Oyyy! You have the wrong vampire.”

“Get away from her!” Dean shouted. “Come on, you bastard.”

Chagal grabbed Magda by the wrist, then glared at Dean and hissed. He dragged a screaming Magda to the broken window.

Dean quickly grabbed Magda by the waist and pulled her from Chagal’s hold. “Leave her alone, you asshole!”

“You’ll regret this,” Chagal sneered before fleeing through the open window.

For a moment, they stood in silence, with Magda clutching at Dean, her heart beating so heavily that Dean could feel it against his chest.

“You saved me,” she whispered, looking up at him out of big brown eyes.

“Of course,” he said, already feeling the urge to let go of her.

She parted her full lips, and closed her eyes, as if she was expecting him to kiss her.

He let go of her waist and stepped back. The only one he intended to kiss was Cas. He swallowed around a lump in his throat.

Confused, she stared at him.

Sam saved him from having to say anything else: “He must’ve fled to the castle.” He leaned out the broken window into the cold. “We have to follow him.”

“You mean now?” Dean gazed through the window and into the darkness. It had to be well below freezing out there.

Breathing heavily, Rebecca appeared in the open doorway to Magda’s room. She brushed a loose strand of hair aside and clutched tightly to a blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders. “What is going on?”

“Madam Jackal.” Sam straightened, standing next to the window. “Sorry, Chagal. We must get down to work. Your dead husband has risen as a vampire. He has attacked your maid and smashed this window to flee to the castle. Now I must ask for your help. First, let’s block this window.” Sam looked left and right. He grabbed the wardrobe that stood right next to the window and pulled at it. Dean quickly pushed on the other side. With a loud creak, it scraped over the wooden floor. “Good,” Sam said, as the wardrobe came to sit right in front of the window. He was breathing heavily with the effort. “Next we need garlic. Garlic everywhere.”

“I’ll see to it,” said Rebecca. She left the room, and hurried down the hallway.

“Good,” Sam said. “Now, let’s get to the castle. We can’t lose any more time.”

They went up to their rooms, and grabbed their bags and heavy coats. All the while, Dean felt a low buzz of excitement cooking underneath his skin. They headed for the castle, where Castiel would be waiting for him. He couldn’t wait to be in his presence again, to give himself over to him.

“You good?” asked Sam, putting a thick fur hat onto his head.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean blinked. He couldn’t let Sam know of his infatuation with this monster, could he? Cas was the manifestation of his wettest dreams, and, looking at it with a clear head, maybe Dean should run away from him, and fast.

But… there was no way Dean could outrun the need to be with this man.

Some part of him knew that Cas longed to be with him too. After all, he had declared Dean his, hadn’t he?

“You seem a bit off. I need you with a clear head.”

Dean nodded, biting his bottom lip. Sam was right. Dean had to focus on the job, instead of his fantasies.

But Castiel… Castiel was his dream.

Quietly, Dean sighed.

“Come on now,” said Sam as he left the bedroom and headed downstairs. “We gotta hurry.”

Dean looked around the room, sending a little prayer to Cas, asking him to keep both of them out of harm’s way. He knew the man wasn’t an angel, so praying to him wouldn’t help much, but Dean felt the illogical urge to anyway.

Following Sam down the stairs, Dean could already see the inn door was open. Outside, Rebecca was readying two sets of skis, which were essentially just plain, narrow, wooden boards that were shaped to curve upwards slightly at the tips.

“This is the best I can do,” Rebecca said, eying the long boards. “I should’ve listened to you. Chagal should’ve listened to you. I always told him it’s too dangerous.”

Sam crouched down to attach the ski’s leather straps around his heavy boots. “Head back inside, help Magda set up the garlic all around the house. As much as you can find.”

Rebecca was already halfway up the stairs. “I will.”

Dean crouched down next to Sam, setting his right foot onto the wooden board. He’d only skied once in his life, and those skis had a metal bottom, allowing them to glide across the snow easily. These ones weren’t of such fancy technology.

Standing up, once his feet were secured in, he tried out the skies moving his right foot back and forth experimentally. He felt them stick to the snow, more than slide along it. Great.

There was rustling near the shed. Dean looked up, only to find a shadow moving in the distance. The figure was crouched as it crept across the white, moon-lit field in front of them. “That’s him.” Dean pointed at the moving figure. “That’s Chagal.”

Sam grabbed the well-whittled branches meant to be used as poles they’d use to propel them along. “Quickly.”

Chagal walked towards the gate clumsily, and when he reached it, he turned around, gesturing to them not to bother with him. The last few yards he walked backwards to the gate, leaving deep prints in the snow. He pushed the heavy iron structure open, walking through it as obsequiously as when he was alive. Once he’d passed the gate, he abruptly turned around and took off, tearing off like a madman.

“Fuck,” Dean spat out, seeing his only lead to Castiel fade quickly fade into the distance.

Sam pushed himself forward, heaving with the effort.

Dean, adrenaline spiking, didn’t even feel his muscles working hard as he dragged his skis over the snow. His heart beat heavily in his chest.

He pushed forward, even though his lungs burned, blindly chasing his target, intuitively knowing where to go. Eventually he reached a downslope, and paused to look out along the landscape. In the distance, the castle rested between snow-covered hills like a giant cat waiting to catch a mouse.

“That’s it,” Sam huffed beside him. “Shit Dean, you were fucking fast.”

Dean stared at the castle, transfixed and fascinated. “Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “Must be the thrill of the hunt.” He was getting closer to Cas, he could feel it. His skin prickled with excitement.

Sam pressed himself forward with a huff, then sped downhill.

I’m coming, Dean thought as he moved to follow. The icy air bit his skin as he sped down the hill, nearing the castle, until it towered above him—dark, impenetrable—like a nightmare Dean had never wanted to have, but now longed for.

Sam looked up the tall, imposing castle walls. The entrance, a huge solid door made of dark wood, sat closed and grim before them. “We can’t get in through here.”

The castle walls were high, and topped with sharp spikes that gleamed in the cold moonlight like knives ready to slice through flesh. The castle had clearly been built to be defensible.

Sam pointed at a particularly high part of the wall, where, Dean realized, the spikes were missing. “We can climb over there.”

Dean nodded, but before they could even move, the heavy wooden castle gate opened. A man stood in the open doorway. A heavy cloak was draped across his shoulders, and he was holding a candelabra with three burning candles in his right hand. The candles’ light flickered in the night’s icy breeze, shining light onto his slender facial features. “We’ve been expecting you. Come in.”

Sam stared at Candles, bewildered. “Who the hell are you?”

Candles stepped sideways, giving way to the castle’s open courtyard. “Let’s do introductions once we’re all inside, shall we? You must be freezing.” He looked at the night sky above them and fell silent for a moment, then added: “Let’s warm you up.”

Candles led them into the wide courtyard. Shielded by the castle’s huge walls lay what had to be a graveyard hidden underneath the snow. Huge trees bent under the snow’s heavy weight, their branches’ silent crackling the only sounds apart from the whispers of Sam and Dean’s skis sliding over the snow. Gravestones rose from the ground at the far corner of the yard, and in the middle, a statue of an angel spread its wings.

Reaching the castle’s entrance, they took off their skis. Sam turned to look at Dean skeptically, but Dean only shrugged. They might be walking into the belly of the beast, but what other options did they really have?

Dean patted his coat to get rid of the snow that had collected in the dense fur as they stepped inside the castle and into a huge, brightly lit room. A chandelier, fully stacked with burning candles, hung from the ceiling, showering all walls with its warm glow.

From the side, Hunchback hobbled into the room. He glared at Sam and Dean for a moment, then took the man’s cloak. Underneath he wore a sumptuous dressing gown. The ruffled shirt might have been in fashion hundreds of years ago, just like his tight trousers, but right now they were assaulting his eyes.

Candles walked towards a corridor. “Come on,” he said.

Grunting, Hunchback stepped closer to Dean, grabbed his coat, and pulled it off Dean’s shoulders roughly. He did the same with Sam.

Walking down the corridor, Dean looked at the large windows to their left and into the courtyard. The angel’s shadows covered the entrance to a crypt behind it, like it was shielding it from the outside world.

He led them into a library that had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that were full of books. As far as Dean could see, were all old volumes, reaching back to the Middle Ages. All their backs had old-fashioned lettering on them. He bet Sam would love to go through these books. His brother could spend weeks and weeks with old books like these. But all his brother did now was stare at Candles, fascinated.

Right in front of the fireplace stood three armchairs, and in between the group sat a chessboard with large ivory chessmen on a table.

Candles sat down in the one to the left.

Sam slowly walked towards Candles. “I’m terribly sorry for the nightly intrusion, sir…”

Candles pointed at the other armchairs. “You can call me Michael.”

Sam furrowed his brows. “Michael?”

“Yes, well… Count von Krolock, if you want the formal version. But otherwise, it’s Michael.”

Michael eyed Dean over head to toe, making his skin crawl.

Micheal looked at Sam curiously. “And you are?”

“Professor Samuel Winchester, Königsberg University.“

Michael tapped the arms of his chair. He stopped tapping, then leaned forward and added: “That alters everything! I’ve had the opportunity to read your work. The Bat, Its Mysteries.”

Sam, blushing, sat down opposite of Michael. “Really?”

He gestured vaguely around the library while his gaze again shifted from Sam to Dean. “Remarkable! I must have a copy somewhere.” He blinked, and looked at Sam again. “I’d like you to sign it for me.”

“Your Excellency is too kind,” Sam said, flustered.

Michael leaned back in his chair. “Just Michael, please.” He propped his elbows up on the arms of his chair, and folded his hands. “So, you lost your way?”

“No,” Sam said, but bit his lip quickly. He looked up at Dean, who was still standing near the library’s entrance.

“No?”

“We were running after a Pteropus,” Sam said quickly.

“I thought bats fell into a deep sleep throughout the winter months?”

“Not all species,” Sam said. “And you can picture the amazement of my brother yourself. We couldn’t believe our eyes. Isn’t that so, Dean?”

Dean nodded. “Absolutely, we couldn’t believe our eyes.” His chest felt too tight. He knew Castiel was close, and he needed to get to him, and fast. Michael was a monster and Cas… Cas might be the only one who could keep Dean safe.

“Imagine,” Sam said, “this Chiroptera flitting around in December. Incredible! What’s more, he was as big as this. Wasn’t that so, Dean?” Sam gesticulated wildly, as if he wanted to confuse Michael.

Dean looked back over his shoulder and into the corridor quickly, but of course there was no trace of Castiel. He scratched the back of his hand. His skin felt too hot, itching from the blood that was too quickly heating up his skin. “Oh, yes… It was… big… Huge, even!”

Michael seemed to watch Dean with interest.

Sam leaned forward. “Mind you, this case isn’t unique. In my second volume, which is actually at the printers right now, I cite several analogous cases supplied to me by reputable colleagues, such as Falkman of Munich or Oto-Afner of Prague.”

Michaels stared at Dean, licking his lips. “Curious,” he murmured.

Dean’s blood ran cold. Suddenly, he felt like prey, even though he was already promised to another vampire.

“Curious, certainly,” Sam added. “But in no way inexplicable. I think we can look for the cause in the purely mechanical need to fight against the torpor of hibernation.” Sam folded his arms and started to move his elbows up and down, his fists in front of his chest, giving little jumps the better to imitate a bat in flight. “To restore the circulation by primary motion, to cause the limbs to work without thinking. This in consequence makes them fly without being aware of it. Of course, I’m only referring to those rare examples of the species not conforming to the laws of hibernation.”

Michael stood up and walked to the door. “Like a sleepwalker?”

“Yes,” Sam answered. “Let’s say they fly in their sleep.”

Michael nodded, staring out the window. He folded his hands behind his back, his shoulders trembling. “I had an aunt who was a sleepwalker. At night she frequently ran about on the battlements without causing me any surprise. But walking isn’t flying.” Michael turned around. “How is it possible to avoid an obstacle when flying while being simultaneously asleep?” He looked at his fingernails, which were beautifully manicured. The red nail polish made Dean blush in awe.

Sam turned sideways to face Michael, then said: “I can see you’re a great authority!”

“The Natural Sciences greatly interest me.” Michael’s voice was rich with melancholy. “When I was a young man…” He paused for a second, staring into the void. Instead of finishing the sentence he said: “My library is at your disposal.” He turned around, looked out the window again and straightened. “To fly in one’s sleep, how is that possible?”

Sam inched forward in his chair until he sat on its very edge. “Rays! There are rays!” He smiled happily.

Through the door, Hunchback entered. He grunted harshly. “Your beds are prepared.”

“Our beds?” asked Sam.

“Well,” Michael said. “I can’t let you venture off into the night, Professor, now can I?”

If they stayed the night, Castiel might find Dean. He couldn’t let the chance slide. “We’re most grateful that you’re willing to let us stay in your castle.”

“Of course, Dean.” Michael looked at him quickly, a smile on his lips.

Sam got up and out of his armchair. “Excellency, we’ve kept you up very late.”

“I’m a night-owl. I’m not very good in the daytime,” Michael said.

With a firm grip, Hunchback took the case from Dean’s hands. He grunted again, nodded to the hallway.

“Come on now,” said Michael, walking past Sam and Dean. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”

They followed him down a huge hallway that was lit by huge chandeliers dangling above their heads. Paintings of Michael and other people Dean didn’t recognize hung on the wall.

“But how do they navigate?” Michael asked out of the blue.

But Sam immediately picked up on the question. “Their little heads contain a fantastic mechanism. It emits invisible rays, the nature of which still escapes me. But what’s sure is that these rays come into contact with the obstacle, whatever it may be, and then return to warn them.”

“That would explain why they can fly in total darkness,” Michael observed.

“Exactly!” exclaimed Sam.

Shaking his head, Dean followed behind Sam. His brother always was enthusiastic when it came to talking about science, to a point where he forgot everything else around him.

Suddenly, a door to Dean’s right opened. He jumped to the side, startled, only to find himself looking into the most wonderful blue eyes. His heart stopped for a second, and he couldn’t help but stare at Castiel.

Michael stopped and turned around. “Castiel,” he said.

Castiel stared at Dean just like Dean stared at him. “Good evening,” Castiel said.

“Now, come on.” Michael went on to walk down the corridor. “Let’s get you to your rooms.”

Dean followed, so as not to bring attention to himself, but all he wanted to do was return to Castiel.

***

Their rooms were huge, with a door connecting them. Dean stood in the middle of his, his skin too tight and his head too hot to even think of anything like sleep. Behind him was a four-poster bed with a canopy, to his right was a chest of drawers adorned with golden ornaments. By the fireplace, in which the remnants of burned wood glowed peacefully, sat two armchairs. Dean rubbed his neck, his hands, his arms… No way was he going to be able to sleep in here, all alone.

The connecting door opened, and Sam stepped into Dean’s room, already wearing long drawers, his nightshirt flapping around his calves. He struggled to take off his stiff collar.

“The fellow’s no fool,” Sam said, leaning against a post of Dean’s bed. “Did you hear how he held his own on the subject of bats? Really sound arguments, not like those morons at Königsberg.”

Dean sat down on the bed to keep himself from pacing. He had to get rid of Sam, and fast. “No,” Dean agreed. “His arguments were really sound.”

“Now, should we go to bed and sleep with one eye open? Or should we take the watch in turns?”

“Perhaps sleep with an eye open?” Dean suggested.

Sam walked into his own room, closing the door behind himself. “Very well, sleep tight.”

Alone again, Dean got off the bed and paced around. What was he to do? Castiel was close. The closeness that came at a distance just made his unease grow, made his hands shake, and his mind spin. Carefully he opened the bedroom door, and stepped into the silent corridor. Without even thinking, he walked towards the room they’d passed by earlier, and, as he reached it, it opened on its own. Castiel stood there, staring at him, bewildered.

“Come in,” Castiel said.

Castiel’s room was similarly furnished to the one Dean had just left. A huge bed stood against the wall, and two armchairs rested by the fireplace. Dean carefully closed the door behind himself.

Castiel stood by the window, his ruffled shirt open, exposing wonderfully tanned skin. “You found me.”

“Yes.” Dean’s throat ran dry. He wanted Castiel’s hands all over his body, longed for it with his whole being.

Castiel slowly opened the last button on his shirt, shedding the fabric to expose broad shoulders and abs resembling those of a Greek God. Dean, following a deep need radiating from his very core, unbuttoned his own shirt slowly.

Castiel strolled towards him. “Do you want me? All of me? Are you ready to give yourself over to me?” he asked.

Biting his bottom lip, Dean nodded.

“I need you to say it.” Castiel stood unbearably close, but still too far away.

Dean’s shirt sailed to the floor. Exposed like this, he shivered. “Yes,” he whispered. “I want all of you. Please.”

Castiel quickly closed the distance between them. He cupped the back of Dean’s neck with his left hand, and gently tilted Dean’s head to expose his throat. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh God yes,” Dean whispered. If Cas wouldn’t take him, use him, he was sure he’d faint.

“Shhh….” Castiel bent forward, and his lips brushed lightly over Dean’s skin. He opened Dean’s pants, pulled out Dean’s half-hard cock. “So beautiful,” he said. “Brace yourself.”

Dean gasped as Castiel’s teeth penetrated his skin. The sharp pain traveled directly to his cock, making him unbearably hard in an instant. He couldn’t speak anymore, just leaned into Castiel’s strong hands, which were holding him firmly.

He whimpered as Castiel gently stroked him. Trapped in the vampire’s embrace, Dean grew boneless, delivered himself to the overwhelming sensation of Castiel taking care of him completely. His heartbeat was the steady rhythm of Castiel’s gentle caress, elevating Dean to a plane of pleasure he hadn’t before known existed. His whole body came alive as an all-engulfing excitement grabbed onto his human flesh. His cock twitched in Castiel’s hold. Arousal traveled up and down his shaft. His balls tightened; his heavy load was ready to be shot. He was lost to time, just swimming in a sea of burning need while all he could feel was Castiel. It was the most perfect thing he’d ever experienced.

Desperate now, Dean whimpered as he neared his release. His hips twitched, and he couldn’t help but thrust forward and into Castiel’s hand. Castiel grabbed the base of Dean’s cock and squeezed. The moment Dean thought he was about to come, his orgasm receded. Dean wanted to cry.

Castiel let go of Dean’s cock. He straightened, and looked at him out of dilated pupils while licking drops of blood from his lips. “Wonderful,” Castiel said. “Just wonderful. Your pleasure tastes divine.”

Dean whimpered desperately, just now realizing that tears were streaming down his cheeks. Desperate to find his release, he whimpered.

“Not yet, my sweet boy,” Castiel said, wiping a tear off Dean’s cheek. He pressed his own hard cock against Dean’s hip. “You want me? You want to come on my cock?”

Unable to speak, Dean nodded.

Slowly, Castiel maneuvered Dean to the bed. He laid him down, stripped him of his pants, then spread his legs. Standing at the foot of the bed, he pulled out his own cock.

In shock, Dean stared at it. It was bigger than anything he’d ever shoved up his ass. “Is it…”

Castiel approached Dean like a predator.

“Is it gonna fit?”

He climbed onto the bed, then reached to his right, opening the nightstand’s drawer, and retrieved a small bottle. He dribbled oil onto his palm, coated his cock thickly with it. “I’m sure it will, my sweet boy. Your hole was made for me, and me alone.”

Castiel’s slick fingers found Dean’s hole. With his left hand, he grabbed Dean by the hip and held him down while he pushed two fingers inside.

Dean’s body didn’t put up any resistance. His eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned deeply. The stretch alone was divine. “Fuck.” Pleasure exploded behind Dean’s closed eyelids as Castiel’s fingers found a spot deep inside him and rubbed. His balls tightened again, the orgasm cooking hot and strong underneath his skin.

“There it is,” Castiel said, massaging relentlessly. “How beautiful you’re leaking. You’re perfect, Dean. You’re mine.” He bent forward and sucked the tip of Dean’s cock into his mouth.

But again, Castiel stopped the moment the orgasm started to flare up like a starved fire suddenly fed with oxygen.

“I know,” Castiel said. “I’ve got you.” He pulled his fingers out of Dean’s hole. He lined himself up, the tip pressing against Dean’s sphincter. “Just relax for me Dean.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide as Castiel pushed forward, invading his tight little hole. It was too much, and not enough. Dean wanted more, wanted all of Cas.

“Just relax,” Castiel repeated, slowly moving forward.

Any resistance Dean still had in himself broke. Castiel slid in completely, grinning down at him. “That’s it, Dean. See? Your body is mine.”

Dean grabbed the sheets so tightly he thought he might rip them apart as Castiel pushed in further. Cas’ cock rubbed across Dean’s prostate with every thrust, peeling away any layers of resistance that Dean still had in him. Dean completely obeyed.

“Yes,” Castiel grunted. “You’re so good for me. So good.”

Dean held onto Cas’ back. He needed this. Needed to be Cas’, to let Cas take care of him. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sheer and unfiltered sensation of a cock finally being buried balls deep inside him. Finally, finally, thankfully, he was complete.

Castiel tilted Dean’s head to the side while he fucked him.

And Dean willingly obeyed, presenting the side of his neck to Cas, wishing for him to bite him. Sharp teeth sunk into his skin, penetrated him just like the hard cock that was splitting him open without mercy. “Please,” Dean begged. “Please.”

As Castiel drank Dean’s blood again, they truly were as one. Castiel established a steady rhythm, fucking hard and steady into Dean while holding him tight. His lips sealed over Dean’s skin, Castiel moaned deeply. Dean’s cock tip ached with the need to come, his cock trapped full and swollen and hot between their bodies.

Dean couldn’t think clearly anymore. He was lightheaded—robbed of too much blood, perhaps. He held onto Cas for dear life.

Castiel grabbed him to jerk him hard. “Come,” he whispered in Dean’s ear. “Come for me, my sweet boy, let me taste your orgasm.”

His sharp teeth penetrated Dean in an as-yet untouched spot on his neck. And the sharp pleasure of it, combined with Cas driving into him relentlessly, sent Dean over the edge. Dean’s cock shot his heavy load in big spurts, every one of them ripping through his body like an explosion of sheer need that left him raw. Dean locked his feet behind Castiel’s back to keep him buried deep inside while Castiel himself shuddered and broke, clutching Dean so tight that Dean thought he might get crushed.

“Mine,” Castiel moaned. “You’re mine.”

Castiel collapsed on top of Dean, licking the wounds on Dean’s neck. He then pushed his upper body up and looked down at Dean, wonder and awe in his eyes.

Dean’s world stopped as Castiel crushed their lips together. He invaded Dean’s mouth. Dean moaned, tasting his own blood in Castiel’s fierce kiss.

“Mine,” Castiel growled after breaking the kiss.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh out loud while tears streamed down his face. Though they weren’t tears of fear, those were tears of joy.

Castiel kissed the sides of Dean’s neck. “I’m glad you found me,” he whispered in Dean’s ear.

“What… what happens now?” Dean asked.

“Now, you go to sleep and replenish my lovely boy.” Castiel kissed him again, soft and long and… loving.

Dean’s eyelids grew heavy, and he couldn’t help but yawn heartily. “Will you be there when I wake up?”

“I’ll see you again tomorrow at nightfall,” Castiel said, planting another kiss onto Dean’s lips.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Dean smiled as he felt himself fading towards sleep.

“Sleep well my love.”

Cas’ cock was still pulsing deep inside him as Dean fell asleep.

***

Dean woke up alone in the four-poster bed that stood in his assigned room. His hole was achingly empty, robbed of Castiel’s cock. It felt used when he flexed his crotch muscles, and he remembered Cas’ wonderfully hard cock that’d stayed thick and erect even after they’d both found their release.

He already missed him like crazy. Every second spent apart felt like a moment wasted. Last night, he had felt so wonderfully complete for the first time in his life.

The connecting door creaked loudly. Sam stepped in, still in his ankle-length nightshirt. “I haven’t slept this well in ages,” he said, stretching out his arms over his head.

“That’s great,” Dean mumbled. The last thing he needed now was his little brother invading his personal space when the only one he wanted around was Castiel.

Sam walked directly up to the curtains and pulled them open, letting the sunlight in. “Whatever one might say about Transylvania, these snow-covered mountains are beautiful.”

“I bet they are.”

Sam turned around, then slowly approached the bed, staring at Dean. He sat down next to him, looking him over.

Annoyed, Dean furrowed his brows. “What?”

“You look pale.”

Dean turned around so that his brother wouldn’t see his face anymore. “No, I don’t,” he said grumpily.

A knock on the door startled them both. Sam looked at Dean conspiratorially, then slowly stood up, and carefully walked towards the door. He opened it and froze. “Look at that.”

“What?”

“Someone wants you to eat like three thousand calories for breakfast.”

“Cas,” he whispered to himself. Just hearing the word “breakfast” had Dean’s stomach grumbling.

“What was that?” Sam picked up the tray, and turned around.

“Nothing,” Dean replied, silently telling his stomach to mind its own damn business. “Get it over here, please.”

“Sure.” Sam went to the bed, and sat the tray down on top of the sheets. It had coffee and eggs, bacon, and pancakes. It smelled like heaven served on a platter. The only thing Dean could imagine being better for breakfast would be Cas’ salty load filling his mouth. He licked his lips, grabbed a strip of bacon, and ate it in one bite. His stomach grumbled, this time in agreement, and he picked up the fork to start in on the eggs.

“Take it slow. I wonder if they left breakfast for me too.” Sam went back into his own room, leaving the connecting door open.

There was no way Dean could go slow on this breakfast. His body yearned for every calorie on the tray. He brought the bowl with the eggs to his mouth, and practically inhaled them. They were a tad on the salty side, but he didn’t have it in himself to complain. Because this was heaven.

When he put down the empty bowl, he saw a note. It was beautifully handwritten with one of those fancy stylograph pens and said: Please eat everything on this tray. I’m looking forward to having you again tonight. Castiel.

Dean carefully set the note aside onto the bedsheet, arousal running hot through his veins. His hole twitched at the thought of Castiel’s hard cock invading his mouth and his hole, making him moan in anticipation. He couldn’t wait to find out how he tasted. Salty and a little sweet maybe. Out of curiosity Dean had once tasted his own cum, imagining it was someone else. A faceless stranger.

“That good, huh?” Sam returned to Dean’s room with his own food tray, which seemed to hold a way less sizable amount of goodness.

Dean grabbed the honey, poured a generous amount of it over his pancakes. Castiel had said eat all of it, hadn’t he? So, Dean fucking would.

“Why did you get pancakes? I only got eggs and two loaves of bread.”

Munching away on the pancakes, Dean shrugged. “I dunno,” he said before stuffing his piehole with more fluffy pancakes while moaning delightfully. He was gonna be good for Castiel, he was gonna eat it all for his vampiric angel. His cock tented the sheets and all he wanted was to jerk off. Thankfully it was hidden underneath a fluffy duvet cover. And he’d have to wait for Sam to finally leave him alone.

Sam shrugged, then closed the connecting door between their rooms “Yeah, alright, whatever. I’m gonna eat and get dressed. I really would like to check out that library.”

Of course, Sam would. Dean rolled his eyes, and as soon as the door was closed behind Sam, he pushed the tray aside, licking thick droplets of honey from the corners of his mouth. He listened for a moment, hearing only the clacking of cutlery against porcelain.

He held his breath as he got his hard cock out. Thinking back to Cas’ rock-hard erection invading him for the first time, he stroked himself. Thick droplets of precum showed already on his tip, and he spread them across his rosy cockhead with his thumb, the sticky fluid easing the glide.

His hole was way too empty, he realized as he imagined himself being eaten out by Castiel.

He was lost forever to this man, he realized. There would never be anyone else for him.

Dean picked up the pace. He didn’t have much time left before his brother would enter his room again, urging him to follow him along into the Castle. The last thing he wanted was Sam walking into him while was jerking off.

Moaning deeply, Dean massaged his cockhead. His left-hand fingers ghosted over the side of his neck, right where Cas had bitten him. Though the skin itself felt unscarred, the memory of sharp teeth piercing him ignited sparks of pleasure deep inside him. Cas drinking his blood had been incredibly hot. The feel of sharp teeth breaking his skin had been heavenly painful in a way that’d made his pleasure boil over like milk in a pot. His cock twitched and his balls tightened. He grabbed onto the sheets as he came, imagining Cas penetrating him over and over and over in every possible way.

How many more ways were there? What holes did Dean have that Cas could invade?

This was Ludacris. This was heaven, this was hell.

He stared at his cum-covered hands, then licked the thick drops off his fingers, imagining it being Cas’ cum and not his own. “Yours, all yours,” he whispered while weakly pulling the sheets over his spent cock.

Sam barged into his room again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready…” Dean mumbled.

“I don’t think so. You really should get dressed Dean.”

“Getting dressed… yeah.” Dean nodded, eyelids closed, head resting against the pillow. All he wanted to do was sleep and wait for Cas. “Okay.”

But Sam’s demanding tone ripped him from his after-sex glow. “Look at that.” He stood by the opened window and pointed out into the courtyard. “Come here.”

It cost Dean every last bit of energy he had left to get out from under the fluffy covers and put his underwear on. He walked around the bed, stood next to Sam at the open window, goosebumps rising on his skin. In the courtyard, the stone angel’s wings cast its shadow onto a grave. For a second Dean felt like the statue looked up at him, ghostly, and Dean shied back.

“What do you see?” Sam was utterly unimpressed.

“A cemetery.” Slowly, Dean walked closer to the window again.

“Higher up.”

Dean raised his head and blinked at the sun already high in the sky.

“I… nothing.”

“Don’t you see a star?”

“A star?”

“Don’t you see the sun?” Sam asked crossly.

Dean shielded his eyes from the sun’s bright light. “Yes. I mean, sure. The sun.”

“From sunrise to sunset, they rest, they lie in their coffins. The sun kills them, Dean, blasts them, it's as plain as a pikestaff, confounds it.”

A distant, dull noise somewhere behind Dean made him turn his head. “Did you hear that?”

Sam turned around, then frowned at him. “Yeah.” Sam walked slowly towards the bedroom door, opened it hesitantly, then looked outside and into the now bright hallway. The noise sounded again, louder this time.

Dean followed close behind his brother, stuck his head out the door. “It’s coming from the right.” He then gathered his clothes and put them on.

They walked down the corridor, past huge portraits that had to be centuries old. People with skin as white as freshly bleached bedsheets stared down at them as they walked by. The women were dressed in huge dresses, their chests tightly bound by corsets. The men wore satin pants and high stockings, ruffled blouses. Their red lips stood out in stark contrast to the paleness of their skin.

Dean couldn’t help but stare at them fascinated, wondering how he’d look in one of these outfits. The make-up surely would suit him well. He learned that early on when he’d sneaked into their mother’s dressing room to try out hers every time he had the chance. Once she’d caught him smearing red lipstick clumsily onto his plumb bottom lip. But instead of screaming at him like his father would’ve, she locked the door, sat him on her lap, kissed his cheek and showed him how it was applied properly.

“Come on.” Sam’s voice brought him back to reality. His mother had died of a bad case of the flu and after she’d been gone, so had Dean’s chance to sneak into her room. And Dean, only fourteen years old back then, had been stripped of every chance to be himself.

He blinked, understanding that he’d been staring at the portrait of a cleanly shaved man, who’d applied a broad line of eyeliner on his upper eyelid.

Sam returned to Dean, touched his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Dean mumbled, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

That dull noise sounded again, closer this time. Castiel hadn’t worn make-up, had he? But maybe it was safe to ask him? He, at least, was their descendant.

“Are you coming?” Sam asked.

“Sure.”

“Okay, then…” The bright hull of Sam’s footsteps grew more silent as he walked down the corridor.

Dean blinked twice, not yet able to let the painting out of sight, but eventually hurried along after Sam, who stood in the open doorway, shaking his head. Dean hunched his shoulders guiltily, like he’d always done in the past.

What if Sam found out? About him and Castiel? That vampire he was supposed to kill but couldn’t help but desire deeply.

In the distance they heard voices.

Sam looked at Dean conspiratorially. “Must be their servants. I guess they need a few to keep this castle running. Kitchen, housekeeping. A gardener. Let’s make sure they don’t see us." Sam hurried along.

At the back of the gallery, Sam opened a wooden door. He nodded at Dean, then slipped through the open doorway, and they walked down a narrow staircase that spiraled around a stone column. Dean rubbed his hands together, feeling the chill of the unheated part of the castle creep into his bones. He wished himself to get back to his bedroom and underneath the covers. All he wanted was to wait for nightfall and Cas.

At the base of the stairs, was another door, which Sam pushed open slowly. Thankfully, it didn’t creak. They sneaked through just to find a shed filled with tools and wood behind it . Crouching, they hide behind a giant stack of firewood.

Someone cursed in a language Dean couldn’t understand. The words were spit out and simultaneously covered up by heavy breaths, forcefully pressed out accompanied by a high-pitched piping sound.

Sam carefully looked around the firewood’s corner, then gestured to Dean to do the same.

In the middle of the shed stood Hunchback by a carpenter’s bench. He planned a wooden board. A shower of shavings fell to the ground around his feet.

Carefully he placed his tool on the working bench next to him, then picked up the board and placed it on the floor, next to another he’d already laid out.

Dean blinked twice. It looked like he was crafting the shell of a coffin. But who for? Not for himself, he hoped. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Cas wanted him alive, didn’t he?

“We’ve seen enough,” Sam whispered, gesturing to Dean to move back to the spiraling staircase they’d come from. Retracing their steps, they crept back, accompanied by Hunchback’s shuffling and cursing as he placed another wooden board on his working bench.

Up in the portrait gallery again, Sam turned towards Dean. “He’s doing carpentry.”

Dean’s thoughts were racing. “But it’s a coffin. Who’s dead?”

Sam shrugged, walking towards their rooms. “Whoever it is, we might be bound to find out. We should check out the cemetery next,” Sam said. “Get into some warm clothes.”

***

Dean looked up at the sun. Its bright rays weren’t more than a gentle teasing to the cold and unforgivably frozen snow that covered the courtyard before them.

Sam knelt down; his fingertips barely hovered over the snow’s blindingly reflecting surface. “They went to the crypt,” he said.

As Dean looked closer, he could really see them too. Even footsteps, accompanied by mincing little steps and a third pair of halting footprints. All clearly visible in the snow.

Sam followed them, leaving his own deep prints in the snow, the thick soles of his feet pressing the snow together. Dean followed as well, but got startled as someone banged viciously against one of the castle windows opening into the courtyard. It was Hunchback, who shook his fist at them. He jumped about furiously, his head red like a beet.

Sam’s heavy hand landed on Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t look at him,” he said. “Behave naturally. Let’s chat about this and that. Recite to me the twelve signs of the zodiac.”

Dean forced himself to turn around and look ahead, a giant lump forming inside his throat. No matter the Hunchback, invading this cemetery felt wrong. He felt like they were getting closer to Cas, and something deep inside him urged himself to shield his vampire from harm. And harm was that man walking next to him, his very own brother. And harm was he, himself, a ruthless vampire killer, out for blood to save the innocent.

But what was he to tell Sam? The truth? A coldness unrelated to any snow chilled his bones.

“Dean?”

Dean blinked. Yeah, right, the Zodiac Signs. “Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo.”

The clatter of hooves reflected on the castle walls.

“Wild boar,” Dean said confused.

“What are you talking about?” asked Sam.

Right in front of them, Hunchback dashed out the front door of the crypt and charged at them, a grim look on his face. Ax in hand, he stopped, blocking their way.

“No panic,” Sam said. “He guards the crypt like a Cerberus, we must try a stratagem. Whistle as though nothing had happened and let’s head back.” He looked to his right, and pointed up, like he was inspecting a small tower high on top of the castle wall.

They went back up to their rooms, and as soon as the doors shut behind them, Sam walked up to the window, staring out into the yard. He pulled at the window’s handle.

Dean opened his coat. He was glad they hadn’t invaded the crypt and by that evaded whatever was to come after that. Sam staking Cas. It was unthinkable.

The ice-cold wind blowing inside the bedroom startled Dean. He whirled around just to see Sam climbing out the window. “What the hell?”

“We need to be creative.” Sam let go of the windowsill. “Come on. This should work just as well.”

Shaking his head, Dean followed his brother. Two stories beyond the window lay the courtyard. Falling might surely kill them and leave Cas more alone than he’s ever been. Dean wasn’t afraid of heights, but the thought of not ever seeing his vampire again had him clutch tight to the slippery windowsill as he slowly followed his brother outside.

Sam climbed over a balustrade, slowly moving over the snow-covered rooftop. With small steps he walked along the cornice, back pressed against the castle wall. The end of the cornice looked onto the roof of the crypt; it was a distance they could easily jump. But with every step they took, Dean’s need to return to their room grew bigger. Cas had taken such good care of him, had pleasured him, had fed him. And how did Dean thank him?

But Sam advanced on all fours closer to the crypt until he lay flat on the snow. On shaky legs, Dean followed suit. What else was he to do?

Sam nodded. “I thought so. Look.”

Beneath them, bordering on the crypt, just before the dizzy drop into space, was another very narrow slightly slanting roof, adorned with gargoyles and fanciful shapes, the whole forming a delicate tracery of stonework.

Sam got up, quickly jumped onto the crypt’s roof, then descended behind it. Quietly cursing, Dean followed right behind.

Dean breathed heavily. “Do you think he saw us?”

Opening his coat, Sam pulled a stake from his coat’s inner pocket and handed it over to Dean. “We’ll find out, I guess.” Sam knelt down in the snow, his hands ghosting over the crypt’s backwall. “Aha,” he exclaimed. “Come on, help me.”

Together, they uncovered a window just big enough for them to slide through. It creaked as Sam pushed it open. “Look at that,” he said.

Looking over his shoulder, Dean frowned, clutching the stake he held in his right hand. He really didn’t want to go in, didn’t want to disturb Cas or explain to his brother to not kill him.

“Come on,” said Sam, sliding into the crypt through the open window. “They won’t kill themselves.”

Mumbling a curse, Dean sat on the snow, feet sticking inside the crypt. Please don’t be in there. He pushed himself forward. It was a quick slide and fall. His feet hit the crypt’s stone ground.

Right before him stood two coffins elevated on stone benches. In the crypt’s darkness the wood’s brown color seemed gray almost, like all pigment had been washed from it. Sam was already getting to work, grabbing the right coffin’s lid, wrinkling his forehead as he pushed it open.

“Look at that.” He pushed further, until the coffin lid reached its tipping point and fell. It hit the ground with a dull thud that reverberated in the crypt’s wall and had Dean flinch.

Sam gestured to Dean to come closer. “Look at that,” he said.

Slowly, Dean approached the coffin. With every step he got closer, his heart beat faster. Don’t be Cas. He couldn’t help but sigh with relief as he saw Michael’s pale face. The man seemed bloodless, his eyes shut and his chest unmoving. He looked very much… dead. If Dean hadn’t seen him moving about last night, he wouldn’t believe this man still walked the earth.

Sam pulled the hammer from his inside coat pocket. “Come on, we shouldn’t waste any time. The stake Dean.”

Dean stared at Michael’s face, which resembled a mask more than anything else. “I don’t know if I can do it…”

“Dean. You have to, that’s why we’re here.”

A lump in Dean's throat kept him from swallowing as he held the stake in his shaking hand.

“Search for the right spot. Between the seventh and the eight ribs, on the left.”

Blinking, Dean touched Michael’s cold chest. How could Castiel’s embrace have been so warm, comforting when Michael’s body was cold like stone? Slowly he felt for the vampire’s ribs, holding his breath.

Sam raised the hammer. “Place the stake there.”

A sudden thud had Dean flinch violently, and he whirled around. Someone banged against the crypt door.

Dean mouthed: Hunchback. Who else could it be?

The banging seized, and instead, a key was inserted into the crypt door’s lock and it was turned.

“Fuck,” said Dean, staring at the door. When he turned to look at Sam again, he found his brother already by the window, pushing himself up. Snow rained down onto the crypt’s gray floor as he climbed outside.

The door lock clicked open and, in the doorway, stood Hunchback, staring blankly at Dean.

Hunchback’s face softened and he shrugged. He shook his head, nodded outside and grunted. Quickly, Dean hid the stake in the back pocket of his pants, then walked towards the open crypt door, trying to look as unblameable as possible. He glanced at the sleeping vampire he walked past, who didn’t as much as move a muscle. He really was dead and vulnerable by day.

Hunchback grabbed Dean by the elbow, pulled him outside the crypt, mumbling: “Patience.” He closed the heavy door behind Dean, which shut with a loud clunk. The icy cold wind had Dean shudder, and Hunchback walked past him, then spurred him on to follow quickly. Dean didn’t even dare to look back, not wanting to give away Sam’s location, who must’ve still been hiding in the crypt.

Hunchback followed him the whole way upstairs to his room. He grabbed Dean’s coat, made him shed it, then hung it up by the door. Hunchback nodded sideways as Dean sat down on his bed, then shut the door behind himself and left.

Alone in the room again, Dean breathed in deeply for a moment. His shoulders relaxed as the room’s warmth seeped into his bones. It hadn’t been Cas.

A bright but silent knock at the window announced Sam’s return. He crouched behind the glass, his lower lip trembling from the cold.

Quickly, Dean opened the window, letting in a jittering Sam.

Sam swung his legs over the windowsill, shut the door behind himself. He patted snow off his shoulder. It fell to the floor where it instantly melted into small drops of water. “Why the hell didn’t he attack you?” Sam rid himself off his heavy fur coat. He looked around the room, shrugging. He hung his coat over the chair that stood by the desk.

“I uhm…” Dean rubbed his neck. What was he supposed to tell Sam? The truth… maybe? In the light of the recent events it made total sense that Hunchback hadn’t attacked Dean. He had to know about Dean’s new forming relationship with Cas.

“Well, it seems like we haven’t been very successful today, have we?” Sam stared out the window. “Maybe we can make sure no one dies tonight?”

“Tonight?” Dean stepped closer to Sam. The snow-clad countryside with its white mountains and treetops behind the castle walls lay in utter silence. The sun was about to set. He was about to see Cas again.

“Look how beautiful nature is! A glorious and magnificent sunset!” said Sam lyrically, his voice rich with pathos. Sam intertwined his fingers behind his back. “The sun is setting, and they are going to rise. It’s in the order of things.”

The sky changed to a dark red and violet before it transformed to its nightly black. A full moon rose, glowing in the sky like a reminder of the day that had been.

Chapter Text

A loud knock on the door had Dean’s heart jumping. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, and he turned around, just to see Castiel standing in the open doorway, dressed in a ruffed shirt, its front open, exposing his tanned and hairless chest. The shirt was loosely tucked into the tight pants he wore, which didn’t do much to conceal the huge bulge already showing.

Cas stepped into the room. “Dean. I heard you’ve been wandering about in the cold of the day, searching for me.”

Dean’s throat was too dry to speak. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a desperate moan. His gaze jumped from a concerned looking Cas to a stunned looking Sam and back. Oh, how much he wished Sam to not be here now. But he was, and whatever affection Cas was going to display, Sam would witness it. Dean was sure he was going to faint.

Cas rushed to his side, wrapping his arm around Dean’s waist, holding him steady. He pecked a kiss onto his cheek. “Have you eaten?” Cas whispered. “I have taken too much., haven’t I? My goodness, why can’t I control myself better?”

“I’m good,” Dean mumbled. Heat crept up his neck and face, burning his ears.

Sam cleared his throat. “Uhm… Dean?”

Kissing the side of Dean’s throat, Cas ignored Sam. He pressed himself against Dean’s side, shamelessly rubbing his hardness against Dean’s hips. “How much I missed you,” he mumbled. “I need you. Do you need me too?”

If Sam hadn’t been there, Dean would’ve jumped into bed with Cas right away. His skin tingled with arousal and he desperately needed to blow off steam. And what better way than to feel Cas’ hot cock pound into him. His own cock hardened and tingled with a need so deeply ingrained in Dean’s core, he couldn’t help but moan quietly while hiding his face in the crook of Cas’ neck.

“I knew you’d feel the same.” Cas’ sharp canines scratched Dean’s skin, making him shiver. “Come to my chambers with me.”

“Dean. What the hell?” Sam asked.

“I’m uh…” Dean tried to straighten, but caught in Cas’ tight embrace, he couldn’t. “Cas, just a moment. I need to talk to Sammy, please.”

Cas ran his sharp canines up Dean’s throat from collarbone to earlobe.

Dean’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy, his eyelids fluttering. “Cas, just…”

“Alright.” Cas gave Dean enough leeway to turn in his arms. He didn’t let go, but instead dragged Dean back to the bed, sat and pulled Dean down to sit in his lap, his erection pushing against Dean’s butt. Cas kissed the nape of Dean’s neck. “Talk to him.” His breath brushed over Dean’s skin, making him shiver with anticipation. Dean couldn’t wait for them to be alone finally.

Sam stared at Dean blankly, still standing by the window. He shook his head. “What’s going on?”

“I meant to tell you, Sammy, but I didn’t know how or when.”

“Meant to tell me what?”

Cas growled, then said: “That Dean is mine.”

“Okay, so…” Sam blinked. “You’re what now?”

Dean stared at the ground, guilt creeping up his shoulders. How was he ever to explain what was going on? He wasn’t just a victim of a vicious vampire; he wasn’t lost to mind control. He was where he needed to be … well, not entirely, since they both still were clothed, and Cas was not inside of him … but he was close to where he belonged. Cas intertwined their fingers, kissing his shoulder.

With Cas having his back, Dean mustered the courage to look Sam in the eyes. “I don’t even know how to explain this, but Cas and I belong together.”

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “This is madness.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re obviously under his influence. I mean…. He’s a vampire. A male vampire. A male.”

Dean blushed. “So?”

“You’re … Dean. You’re …”

“I’m what? Are you having a problem with this because he’s a man, or cause he’s a vampire?”

Sam looked at him in disbelief. “I… I mean…” Sam pointed at Cas, then at Dean. “Both?”

“Yeah, okay. Thought better of you,” Dean said. He hadn’t expected much, knew that Sam would need time to think about it when Dean would be coming out. Though he might’ve hoped for a different reaction. “I’m gay, Sam,” he said, proud of himself being able to finally tell his own truth. “There you got it. It’s out. I’m gay.”

“But he’s a vampire.” Sam said.

“I know he’s a vampire, Sam.” Dean stood up. “And I like it, okay?” He looked down at Cas, who smiled at him gently. “Cas ain’t gonna hurt me.” For a moment they exchanged looks of love and sweet affection. Dean’s heart sang with joy, even in this dire moment. Whatever Sam was thinking, this felt way too right to be wrong.

“You… you really like him, don’t you?” Sam stared at Cas confused, furrowing his brows.

“I do,” said Dean. “I really do.”

“He’s a vampire, Dean.”

“So? Vampires aren’t all bad.” A sudden notion of uncertainty washed over Dean. What if Sam was right? Looking down at Cas, Dean frowned. “I think.”

Cas took Dean’s hand. “We are not all bad creatures. We are able to forge deep bonds with humans, sustaining ourselves in a symbiotic fashion for centuries. You’ll feed me, and I’ll prolong your life.”

“So, this is what it is? Dean’s your livestock?”

Standing up, Cas pulled Dean close. “It’s a symbiosis.”

“A symbiosis.” Sam went for the desk, pulled out the chair. He stared blankly ahead, blinked and turned around. “Fascinating. So, you’ll take just as much blood as he can share?”

“Exactly,” said Cas.

“And what if he dies?”

“If he dies in a thousand years, I might die with him in peace.” Cas nibbled at Dean’s earlobe. “Though I fear I have to steal your brother for a moment. He needs me desperately. I can feel his blood speaking to me.”

“Fascinating,” Sam repeated, nodding. “Just fascinating.” He then shook his head as if having a contradictory thought, but eventually rose from the chair, and added: “I have to think about this.”

In disbelief, Dean stared at Sam. “Are we good, Sam? What’s going on?”

Sam, scratching his head, went over to the connecting door. “Sure, we’re good. Just don’t … you know … don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” He closed the door behind himself.

Cas turned Dean around in his arms. “What do you need from me?” His hand slid inside Dean’s pants and down his crack. He pressed a finger against Dean’s pucker, making Dean moan deeply. Dean relaxed and slowly Cas’ finger sank inside. All Dean could feel was the pleasure of Cas being inside him yet again. He’d waited for too long.

“You… inside me … now,” Dean stuttered.

“That we can do. Undress and lie down on the bed.” Biting Dean’s earlobe, Cas bent the finger he had inside Dean exploratory, quickly finding Dean’s prostate. He gently massaged that tight bundle of nerves, making Dean shiver delightfully.

“Oh God,” Dean moaned. How was he to even move? Cas held him in place with just one finger up his ass.

“You need me that bad?” Cas chuckled. “You better get rid of these pants then and spread those legs for me.”

Nodding Dean hastily rid himself of his clothing, his butt all the while clawing onto Cas’ finger as if there was no tomorrow.

“Will you bite me?” asked Dean, half excited for the act, half scared.

“I took too much yesterday. So I will not today.” Cas guided Dean to the bed, where he pulled out his finger, much to Dean’s dismay. He reached for the nightstand, opened the top drawer and pulled out a small bottle of oil. Cas opened his pants, pulled out his hard cock, lathered himself with oil and moaned deeply, looking at Dean like he wanted to eat him whole. Dean felt more empty than ever, and all he wanted was Cas inside him. The sooner the better.

“Lie down,” Cas growled. “Now.

Dean crawled onto the bed. His own cock was dripping wet with precum, hot and swollen, tingling with a need only Cas could fulfill. He couldn’t wait for Cas to push into him. so he presented his ass to Cas.

“Turn around”, Cas commanded. “I want to look into your eyes while fucking you.”

Dean did so in an instant.

Castiel hovered over him, stroking his cock. Its cockhead was glistening with precum. “Are you ready for me?”

Biting his lower lip, Dean nodded.

Cas was on top of him quickly, his cock pressing against Dean’s entrance. He held Dean in an embrace so tight, Dean wouldn’t have been able to flee, even If he’d wanted to. Baring his fangs, Cas pushed inside completely. Dean held onto Cas’ shoulders, feeling every delicious inch. His hole pulsed around Cas’ cock and Dean, suddenly, surprisingly, came, spurting thick streaks of cum onto his own abdomen. His hole clawed onto Cas’ cock as tears of joy streamed down his face, which Cas kissed all away, humming.

“So good,” Cas said after Dean’s orgasm slowly seized.

Cas hadn’t even moved inside him yet, he’d just stretched his hole. But Dean had orgasmed in an instant. Panting Dean stared at the ceiling in disbelief. How was that even possible?

“Shush now,” Cas whispered. “Just let me take care of you. You’re good. Everything is fine. You’re a good boy. Just Relax. You can take it, I know you can.”

Cas slowly pulled out his cock just to slam inside Dean’s now tighter hole. Dean growled at the overstimulation as Cas stretched him out while Cas’ skin rubbed over his oversensitive cock tip.

“You’re perfect. My good boy, my perfect partner.”

The cum that clung to their skin got stickier by the second, making Cas’ skin stick to Dean’s most sensitive skin. A sharp pain tortured Dean’s cockhead, while Cas was relentlessly driving into him.

“You’ll pull through. It’s like diving through a wave, my love. You’ll come up for a breath of fresh air at the other end. I know you can come again. Just let it happen.”

“No. I can’t.” Dean was sure he couldn’t. Cas’ cock inside him still felt good, but he was nowhere near building up another orgasm.

Cas kissed the side of Dean’s neck. “You can.”

Dean couldn’t help it, but tilted his head to the side, readily exposing his neck to Cas. If Cas wanted to torture him, he could at least add some biting and blood sucking to the mix.

Cas sucked at his skin. “Not today, my love. You need to replenish first. I took too much yesterday.”

“But it’d help. Please, Cas. Master.”

“Shhh…” Cas planted a hot and heavy kiss on Dean’s lips, licking into his mouth. “You can handle this. I know you can.” He angled upwards, his cock brushing over Dean’s prostate with every thrust.

It was too much, way too much… until suddenly, it felt good again. Dean clung to Cas. “Yes,” he moaned. “Yes. Please. I need more.” Chasing his orgasm he rolled his hips, searching for more friction with his cockhead.

“See?” Cas grabbed Dean’s cock, jerking him while fucking into him.

Dean pressed his head sideways into the pillow, exposing his neck for Cas to please make it perfect. To please penetrate him in more than one way. But Cas only showered him with kisses, mumbling on about how good Dean was, while fucking him hard and relentless.

Dean held onto Cas, chasing an orgasm he couldn’t reach. He grabbed onto Cas’ shoulders first, then his neck and his back and as that didn’t give him enough leverage, he grabbed the sheets he lay on and reared up, opening himself up for Cas as much as he could.

“Yes,” Cas said. “Oh, yes. You’re so good, Dean. Just perfect.”

Whatever unpleasant feeling had taken a hold of his body vanished. All Dean needed was to please come. Dean chased his orgasm like a man possessed “Please, please, please,” he screamed.

“Sssshhh…” Cas’ hand moved down Dean’s chest just to find Dean’s hard and pointy nipple. He rubbed across it, then pinched. “I wonder what fluids your body produces. What if you can lactate?” Cas circled Dean’s nipple with his tongue, then gently nibbled at it.

A sharp sensation somewhere in between pleasure and pain connected Dean’s nipples with his overused cock. “More.”

Cas bit down on Dean’s nipple and sucked hard. Dean trembled. The bite finally unleashed the orgasm that had been cooking inside of him like what felt forever now. Dean’s hole massaged Cas’ cock while Dean himself came again, longer this time. Cas had been right all along. Dean was capable of coming again, of having mind-shattering orgasms like these.

Cas buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck . “You’re draining me. Dear Satan. You’ll get whatever you need, my love. You’re mine, and I’m yours,” Cas panted. “You’ll have all of me forever.” Cas pushed deeper inside Dean. Cas held onto Dean this time and shuddered. “Dear Satan, I’ve read the stories, but I hadn’t believed them.”

Slowly coming down from his orgasm, Dean breathed heavily. “The stories?”

“Oh, my good boy.” Still thick and hard inside Dean, Cas rolled to the side, and dragged Dean with him. “The stories about the profound connection we’ll share. Stories about lust… and love,” Cas whispered.

“Let me try something,” said Cas. He brought his wrist up to his mouth, and bit. There were two little puncture wounds showing on his skin, with two little spots of blood showing. He pushed it against Dean’s lips. “Drink.”

Grabbing it with both hands, Dean pressed the arm onto his lips and sucked. Cas’ blood tasted like ambrosia to him, it was sweet and nourishing and his body longed for more. Cas held him, kissed his forehead. In seconds Dean’s cock grew rock hard yet again and Cas grabbed it, massaged it.

Dean wanted to come again. And his balls were high and tight in an instant. He needed to feel that pleasure again. It was insane. How was his body not saturated?

Dean grunted as Cas jerked him feverishly. Dean let go of Cas’ wrist, feeling satiated by the vampire’s blood. His eyelids fluttered shut. A tight burn traveled up his shaft. His cock was overused, sore, but Dean was close anyways, and it felt amazing as his balls grew even tighter, ready to shoot their come. Dean stared at Cas eyes wide as pleasure struck him suddenly, his balls pumping out a heavy load of come. “No way,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Oh yes, my love.” Cas grinned at Dean. “Your body will give us all we desire. It will be an endless source of pleasure when you’re with me.” He brought his now cum-covered hands to his lips, licked his fingers clean.

Dean’s eyelids fluttered shut. “What do you desire?”

“Your cum. Your blood, your spit, your sweat. Everything. I can’t get enough of your tastes.”

“But Dean…”

Dean opened his eyelids again. Cas’ beautiful blue eyes met his. “Yeah?” He was hypnotized by that stare right away.

“I can still release you from my influence. You’ll be my symbiont, my love, my sex toy, my bride. You’ll depend on me just like I’ll depend on you and I’m ready to hand my wellbeing over to you. But do you want that too? Do you want this life with me?”

How could Cas even ask that kind of question? “Are you kidding? Of course, I want to spend my life with you as your fucking queen.”

Cas sighed. “I’m relieved.”

“You’re a vampire, can’t you just… make me want it?”

“I’m not that kind of vampire, Dean. I want you to enter this relationship with a clear head and rational thought. This will change your life forever.”

Dean nodded, biting his lower lip. “Hell yeah, Cas. The more I’m thinking about it the more I want it.”

Cas crushed their lips together, humming possessively. “Great. That’s fabulous. Now what do you say? Shall we clean you up and get you dressed for tonight?”

“What's happening tonight?” Dean leaned back.

“We’re attending a ball that Michael is organizing. Many vampires will attend. I will introduce you as my partner. They will welcome you in their circles and respect you as my symbiotic partner.”

“Uhm. Okay… So what kind of ball is it? Like ball gowns and all that stuff?” Dean thought back to the paintings he’d seen hanging on that wall. The people in these paintings had looked so distinguished, amazing. What was he going to wear even? Was he going to attend in his normal clothes?

“What is going on in that beautiful head of yours?” asked Cas.

“Well, it’s just… I was thinking about those paintings that were hanging in the portrait gallery. And they all looked so distinguished. And that one guy was even wearing make-up…”

“Viktor.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Dean blushed, looking down. “He looked so good with that make-up on. They all looked amazing.”

Cas gently lifted Dean’s head again and their eyes met. “You can dress however you want. You want a suit? You can have it.”

Dean shrugged.

Cas raised eyebrows. “You want a dress?”

Dean looked down, fiddling with the bedsheets. He could never ask for a dress for himself. How would that make him look? Shame crept up his back like an old friend. Was he ever going to be able to tell anyone what he truly desired and be who he truly was?

“You’d look beautiful in a dress, my love,” Cas whispered. “Do you also want to wear make-up? Do you want to wear eyeliner and eyeshadow to make your beautiful eyes pop? Do you want lipstick for those full lips?”

Dean couldn’t look Cas in the eyes. He nodded silently, blushing so hard his ears were burning.

“You’ll get all that, my love. I’ll ask Sarafina to help you since I’m no good with a make-up brush.” Cas gently caressed Dean’s cheek.

Only slowly did Dean lift his gaze. “Really? You don’t think that’s girlish or whatever?”

“You won’t be less of a man in a dress, Dean. On the contrary, you’ll be beautiful, stunning even, I’m sure. I’d love to see you dancing to the music with your skirt swirling.”

“If you’d enjoy that…” Dean said, still a bit insecure.

“I would. I totally would.” Cas caught Dean’s lips in a tender but feverish kiss.

Once they parted, Dean said, flustered: “I’d love to wear a dress for you.”

“I’ll inform Sarafina”, said Cas. “So let’s get you ready for the ball. We still have plenty of time, so how about a nice hot bath to clean you up and relax you? I can ask the staff to fill up the tub in the bathroom.” Cas’ cock slowly slipped out of Dean’s hole.

Dean whimpered in protest. He hated feeling so empty. He only had heard about the wonderful feeling of being full with Cas. He knew he might have a long life with many occasions ahead of him where Cas would fill him up, pound into him.

“What’s going on?” Cas stroked Dean’s cheek. “We cannot be joined at the hip forever.”

“But… feels so empty.”

“Hm.” Cas stared at Dean for a moment, then said. “I might have something to help with that, Dean.”

“What?”

“A golden plug I had once forged by a blacksmith in Florence.”

With interest, Dean blinked. A butt plug sounded … interesting.

“I’ve been waiting for my perfect symbiotic human for centuries and was already losing hope of finding him, so I started to prepare. I know it sounds stupid, but… I guess it’s like buying an engagement ring for someone you hope to meet one day.”

“But why a butt plug?”

“Instead of a dildo, you mean?”

Dean shrugged.

“Well, my whole life I’ve known that I would mate with a man.”

Dean’s skin tingled with excitement. How would it feel? He couldn’t wait to find out.

As if Cas was reading Dean’s mind, he said: “It’s heavy and quite big, but I’m sure it’ll fit.”

Dean would adjust, he was sure of that.

“I bought a bunch of other items too.”

Let me get you in the bathtub and I’ll fetch them from my nightstand.”

It had to fit. It was Cas’ fucking engagement plug, so it had to fit. “It’s gonna be perfect, Cas,” Dean whispered, feeling like Cinderella with her glass shoe.

“Let’s go to my room then”, Cas said.

***

They reached Cas’ room without meeting anyone in the corridor. For a moment, Dean wondered what Sam might be doing. But chances were high was studying Michaels books in the library. Or maybe he was sleeping, though it was still pretty early and Sam had a habit of staying up late to read.

Cas told some boyish looking man that he needed the bathtub to be filled. Then they cuddled in bed, waiting for the deed to be done, and Cas showed Dean his golden butt plug and some golden cock jewelry, telling him how pretty he’d look ordained with it.

Later, Dean relaxed in the hot water. It soothed every fiber of Dean’s body. He allowed his mind to drift, and he imagined himself wearing Cas’ plug jewelry, but resisted to stroke his erection.

Dean got startled as the bathroom door opened, and cold air wavered inside.

A beautiful black-haired woman wearing a tightly bound corset and a wide skirt walzed in. “So, you’re his human.”

Hiding underneath the layer of bubbles that throned atop the bathwater, Dean stared at her. “Yeah?”

“I’m Serafina. Here to help transform you into a queen.” She chuckled.

“I’m ah…” Dean’s gaze jumped from her to the open doorway. “Cas!”

“Oh, honey, I’ve seen boys naked, don’t you feel ashamed. Just get out of the tub, will you?”

Cas entered the room, holding the plug and jewelry in hand. Wearing it would ground Dean and take the anxiety away, Dean hoped. He toweled himself off with a nice fluffy blanket.

“I’ll wait in the bedroom until you’re ready,” Serafina said.

Cas hugged Dean tight. “She’s like a sister to me,” he said. “But sometimes, she forgets her manners. Now, you want to try the plug?” He dribbled oil onto the plug, lathered it up thickly. “That Florence blacksmith was the best in the whole world. When I met him he was fifty already and you know how it is with humans… they die like flies.” Cas grinned at Dean, the slick metal was shining in the candle’s lights.

“Yeah… we die like flies.” Dean was at the same time impressed and daunted by the plug's size. He still was unsure if it’d fit. It was girthier than Cas’ cock, but the tip was smaller, so it’d be easier to slide in.

Cas grinned. “I had him measure my penis for this, but I think he overdid it a bit. How about you bent over the tub’s edge?”

Dean kneeled down, lay his chest down on the tub’s edge like Cas had suggested. He held his breath to calm him down. It would surely fit. It had to.

A slick finger entered him, brushed over his prostate and lit a fire within him. Moaning, Dean closed his eyes.

“You’re still loose from my cock,” Cas said. He then pressed the plug’s metal tip against Dean’s hole. It glid right in. Dean shut his eyes, feeling it stretch him out. The sensation was amazing, with the cold metal gliding inside him. Dean’s cock twitched.

“You’re precoming already,” said Cas.

Dean opened his eyes just to see a thick drop forming on his top. With his little finger, Cas touched the fluid, then pushed against the entrance of Dean’s cock with its tip while he pushed the plug into Dean’s ass inch by fucking inch.

“Mmmmh”, Cas moaned. “Look at that.” The plug slid right in, and its base settled against Dean’s prostate. “Delicious. Now stand up and turn around.”

The plug shifted inside Dean as he did like he was told. It was deliciously heavy, and would always remind Dean of Cas owning his body. It was delightful.

“Very good.” Cas grabbed Dean’s cock and sucked it into his mouth, deepthroating him. He looked up at Dean with a wicked grin on his face, then moved back, releasing Dean’s cock.

“Fuck me.” Dean’s balls were unbelievably heavy.

Cas fondled them exploratively. He picked up a golden ring. “Now this goes over your cock and balls”, he said. He opened it, and it folded into two halves. Cas pulled Dean’s balls forward, then placed it around Dean’s cock and carefully closed it.

“Fuck”, Dean said. Feeling the pressure around his cock base, he felt like his again lingering orgasm got caged up. He still felt riled up, but the feeling was contained, secure.

Cas kissed Dean’s swollen cock tip. “This will make it harder for you to come. But believe me, once I remove it, you’ll experience pure bliss. Now to the ring for the cockhead.” Cas held up a ring. It was jeweled with diamonds. A little bend stick was attached to it. “Now for your cockhead”, Cas said. He squeezed Dean’s cockhead, exposing his cockhole.

Dean stared down at himself as Cas slowly inserted the stick into his cock. Hot flashes made Dean’s knees weak while it invaded him inch by inch. “Oh God”, he moaned. He could feel the stick stretching him and it was just the most amazing feeling. Grabbing onto the bathtub edge Dean’s muscles suddenly contracted, like he was coming, but no cum spurt from his cock.

“Oh, I see…” Cas pushed the jeweled ring over Dean’s cock tip. “We need dilators that’ll reach deeper.”

Dean blinked. “What happened?”

“You just came.” Cas sucked over Dean’s cockhead. “How pretty you are.”

“I what?”

Dean’s knees gave out, and Cas caught him, carried him to the bed.

Dean hadn’t seen Serafina standing by the window. “You got yourself a pretty one, I have to admit.” She applauded Cas. “Look at that pretty swollen cock.”

“The jewelry fits perfectly,” Cas said, stroking Dean’s cock and fondling his heavy balls.

“Now let’s give him a dress to match.”

Dean pushed himself up. The last orgasm hadn’t been a real release. He needed another one and soon, with the plug pushing against his prostate with every move he made.

“Poor humans”, Sarafina cooed. “Fed with blood they tend to be like oversexed rabbits. Maybe you have to release him?”

“I’m fine,” said Dean, a bit dazed. He got up from the bed. “How long until the ball?”

“Two hours. So we’ve got enough time to get you ready.” She nodded at a chair that stood in front of a desk with a mirror, which was covered with a red silk sheet.

Dean sat down as best he could with the plug inside him. As much as he enjoyed it, maybe it'd be best to remove it for the ball, no way he’d be able to dance with it inside. Or if he would, he’d be sexed up constantly, cause that thing would massage his prostate relentlessly.

Standing behind Dean, Cas lay his hand on Dean’s shoulder possessively. "His name is Dean."

"Dean." She smiled at Dean, tilting his face up. "How beautiful you are. Green eyeshadow will suit you nicely. And look at those lashes. Magnificent."

She unpacked an array of eyeshadow, eyeliners and pencils. “He smells like a virgin,” she said.

“I took care of that. As much as I would’ve enjoyed keeping him a virgin for centuries, I couldn’t have him parade around the castle with virgin blood. Besides, fucking him is way too much fun. What’s the joy of a symbiote if you can’t fuck them?”

“Imagine keeping his virginity and feeding him your blood. You would’ve had to chain him to the dungeon wall, he would’ve been so horny.” She chuckled. “Ah, good times. The sweetest torture.”

“Every vampire around would’ve tried to get fuck him. No way. He’s mine.”

Serafina picked up a broad brush. “Oh, chaos, my favorite. Having a potential human symbiont running around in eternal horniness. But I like him like this too. He reeks of sex.”

“That is their best state,” Cas said and reached down to caress Dean’s cock.

Dean moaned, circling his hips. It felt so fucking good to have that orgasm boiling underneath his skin.

“He could’ve been compatible with Michael too.” Sarafina smelled Dean’s neck. She then sighed. “Smells so sweet, like ripe apples.”

“Michael will never have him.”

“Let’s hope he’s not interested.” She nodded at Dean. “And let’s hope he’s bonded to you well enough. Now close your eyes for me, sweetie.”

Dean did as she said and sighed as light brush strokes graced his eyelid’s skin. Cas let go of Dean’s cock, much to Dean’s relief. He had to come down from that orgasmatic plateau on which Cas had him cooking.

After the eyeshadow she applied mascara, told him to look up and down, and praised his beauty. Satisfied she nodded, then colored his lips red.

Cas now stood behind him in an old fashioned suit with a ruffled shirt. "Beautiful indeed," he said. "I'm going to lift the veil off the mirror. But you must promise me to not be scared. You won't see our reflection, just your own."

Dean vaguely remembered Sam saying something about vampires having no reflection. Sam's scientific babble was full of contradictions, so Dean had a hard time deciding what to believe and what not.

He nodded. Cas lifted the veil slowly and though he and Serafina stood by his side, he only saw himself.

He looked stunning. His eyelids were painted a vivid green, the color matching his irises perfectly. The eyeliner was a thick black line, making his eyes seem bigger. His lashes were thick and long, heavily painted with mascara. His lips were red and full, ready to be kissed.

"Look at you," Cas said. "My love."

Sarafina put the lipstick down on the desk. "I’ve prepared the dress for you, just a second.” She left, but came back quickly. Thick folds of fabric dangled from her right forearm.

But the fabric was not the only thing she carried inside. In her right hand she held a water carafe. Dean’s throat ran dry at the sheer sight of it. He was thirsty as hell, he suddenly realized.

As if she read his mind, she said: "He needs water." She held the carafe out for him to take.

Dean greedily grabbed it, then drank in big gulps directly out of it.

"See how thirsty your human is? His veins might recede if you don't keep him hydrated. Always carry water with you. You need to take care of him. A gallon a day. More if you drink from him. He needs to replenish and you need to keep him saturated." Sarafina said, watching Dean drink.

"Alright. Duly noted,” said Cas.

Slowly Dean’s body was coming back to life and his mind cleared. It had to have been foggy, he now realized. After he sat the carafe down he needed to pee.

“Um, Cas…,” Dean mumbled.

Cas leaned closer, tenderly kissing the side of Dean’s neck. “Yes, love?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Dean mumbled.

“Oh. But you’re clean.”

“Not for that,” said Dean. “I’ve got to… Jesus Cas.”

Sarafina rolled her eyes at Cas. “He needs to pee,” she said. “You have so much to learn, Castiel. Which means you have to free him from his cock jewelry.” Serafina lay the clothes down on the bed. “I’ll leave you to it. Here’s a skirt and a corset my Marius had worn. It should fit your human, Castiel. Have him try it on.”

“Alright. I’ll release you for a moment, then.”

“Please,” Dean whispered. The need to relieve himself was growing steadily.

“Of course.”

Cas guided Dean to the bathroom, where he spread oil across Dean’s cockhead. “I’ll pull it out”, he said.

Biting his bottom lip, Dean nodded. “Okay.”

Cas slowly pulled the jeweled ring over Dean’s cockhead and the stick out of his cock. Dean held onto Cas’ shoulder, shivering from the pleasure of it.

“I’ll leave you to it, then”, said Cas.

Chapter Text

Dean stared at his reflection in Cas’ dressing room mirror. He was wearing the dress Sarafina had chosen for him. It concealed his erection well. That he was hard again though he’d just orgasmed seemed like a small miracle. Cas had taken pity on him and deep-throated Dean, jostling the plug around in Dean’s butt, which had led to Dean experiencing another mind-blowing orgasm.

The corset’s reassuring tightness made Dean feel like Cas was hugging him and the plug made him feel like Cas was still inside him. His cock jewelry reminded Dean that he was Cas’ wholy and truly. He absolutely loved all of it, and he, to his own surprise, was again ready for his lover. Cas could take from him whatever he desired.

“You’re just too tempting,” Cas said as he closed his pants’ front buttons, trying to conceal his erection.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “You should’ve fucked me.”

“We didn’t have enough time for another lustrous session of lovemaking.” Cas sighed as he’d finally finished the deed and was now staring at his very visible and huge bulge. He cupped it with his right hand and sighed. “You’ll be the death of me. I guess I’m aroused when you’re aroused. And I guess you are aroused, aren’t you?”

“How could I not be? With that butt plug up my ass and that ring around my cockhead? And you standing right there?” Dean chuckled, then turned around. The huge skirt puffed up all around him. He was a princess, and the only thing he missed was a tiara.

Cas stared at him, mouth agape. “You’re the most beautiful creature in existence.”

Dean couldn’t help but blush. He swirled around just to show off, making his wide skirt fly. He’d never been admired in that kind of way, which made it just the more great.

Cas held his arm out for Dean to take. “Let’s meet your brother. I’ve heard he’s in the library with Michael.”

His brother. Dean had pushed the fact that Sam was somewhere in this castle to the periphery of his mind. What was his brother going to say about Dean’s new outfit? And him being a symbiont to a vampire? He’d either be appaled or fascinated, there wasn’t much in between. And he would find out soon.

As if Cas could read his mind, he asked: “Are you okay, my love?”

Dean stared at the ground, fiddling with his corset’s bottom hem. “I’m fine. It’s just…”

Cas came closer, took his hand. “You’re afraid to face your brother?”

Dean nodded, unsure of what to really say.

“You’re going to be fine,” Cas said. “I’ve got you.”

“You think?” Dean swallowed around a lump in his throat. “I just hope Sammy is cool with all this,” he whispered.

“I’m sure he is. Let’s meet him in the library, shall we?”

Hand in hand they walked down the vacant castle hallway past the portrait gallery, turned left at its end. In front of the library door Dean stopped to breathe. Cas waited patiently for him to signal that he was ready to head inside and when he nodded, Cas pushed down the door handle.

Inside the library sat Sam in an armchair, a book lying on top of his thighs, another balancing in his right hand. He shook his head at something he must’ve just read. His right hand’s fingers ghosted across the pages, like they always did when he was comparing two contradicting paragraphs. He was so entrenched in his studies that he didn’t even look up when Dean and Cas entered.

Michael, dressed in his usual ruffed shirt and tight pants, entered through the door to Dean’s right with another book in hand. “Oh, look at that,” he said, staring at Cas and Dean.

On instinct, Dean held tighter onto Cas’ hand. Michael set the book down on the table in front of Sam, then stared at Dean intensely. “Oh my,” he said. “Castiel again, I see you’ve picked yourself a cherry.”

Cas wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist from behind and drew him closer. “Good to see you well tonight, Michael. I see you have found yourself an academic counterpart.”

Michael walked around the armchair Sam was sitting on, laying his hand on its backrest. “A distraction for the time being.”

Sam looked up and stared at Dean, eyebrows furrowed. His lips formed a silent O.

“Sammy,” said Dean, his voice hoarse.

Sam shook his head, combed through his hair with his right-hand fingers and closed the book lying in his lap. “What is going on?”

“My academic friend,” said Michael. “It seems like my companion has taken a liking to your brother.” Michael walked around the armchair, approaching Dean. Dean shrugged back as Michael leaned in close and sniffed, his nostrils flaring. “Interesting,” he said. He walked around behind them and towards the chair, fingers interlocked behind his back. “You seem to think that you’re the only one who has a right to him, Castiel.”

“He’s mine, Micheal.”

“Is that so?”

Castiel bared his fangs and hissed. “It is.”

“And you think you can go unchallenged on this?”

Sam leaned forward, looking from Micheal to Dean to Cas. “Can anyone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand reassuringly, nodding.

So, now was the time to tell his brother the truth. Dean cleared his throat, straightened and said: “Cas is my… boyfriend.”

“He’s your what now?”

“Dean is my one true love and I’m his,” stated Cas overly confident.

Sam shook his head uncomprehendingly. “Lover? Like… what does he mean, lover?”

“I took Dean’s virginity,” Cas announced, glaring at Sam first, then at Michael like Dean was a piece of land and he was staking his claim.

Michael’s hands dug into the armchair’s backrest. “In my castle. Without asking for my permission.”

Castiel stepped in front of Dean. “In this very castle. And I don’t need your permission, Michael.”

Sam, sitting at the chair’s edge, looked at Dean open-mouthed like a fish. “I don’t understand what’s going on, Dean.”

Dean whispered in Cas’ ear: “Can I have a word alone with my brother?”

“Of course.” He then addressed Michael: “Let’s talk about this issue outside, shall we? No need to distress the humans.”

“We shall.” Michael walked outside the library, and Castiel followed. The door closed behind them silently.

Dean breathed in deeply. Thankfully Sam and him were alone again, and able to talk about what had happened. Dean didn’t want to answer Sam’s questions, but knew he had to.

Getting up from his chair, Sam ruffled through his hair, then stared at Dean, obviously demanding explanation. “Dude,” he said.

“Well…” Dean walked towards the sofa next to Sam’s armchair, and carefully sat down to not winkle his wide skirt or move the plug in his butt uncomfortably. “It’s all true. Cas, he…”

“ They’re pestilence reborn.” Sam stared at Dean bewildered.

Dean read the title of the book that was lying on the table. It was a work by Pholius: De hominibus post mortem sanguisuguis. Whatever that means. Something about the dead, he guessed.

“Dean! They’re not humans.”

As if Dean didn’t know that. “I know. But…” Dean bit his lower lip, fiddling with a fold in his skirt. He then mustered up the guts to look up at Sam. “Is that all you’re concerned about?”

“Is that all I’m… ”

Dean flattened the fold, slowly patting it out to the side. “I don’t know man. I mean… I’m wearing make-up, a skirt and a corset.”

“Jesus, Dean. You’d always loved dressing up.”

“I haven’t in ages.”

“Yeah, since Dad had all of mom’s stuff thrown out after she passed. But I know how much you missed it and played pretend in your normal clothes. You never felt comfortable. I mean Dad obviously thought it’d done the trick in forcing you into some role you clearly don’t want to fill, even though you tried.”

Dean lay his hand on his corset-covered belly.

“I knew you’d come forward one day and had to live your true self. I just hadn’t assumed it’d be here and now, with a vampire. He’s not the best choice for a partner. He is a creature of the night. And what now? You’re gonna be paraded around on that ball as his? And yes, Michael told me about the fucking ball and invited me.”

Dean reached forward and lay the top book aside, revealing a book that was unpretentious and dealing with a subject that excited him: A hundred goodlie ways of avowing one’s sweet love to a comelie damozel. He took it in hand. Love was the strangest thing, he read on the first page. One moment there is no thought of it, the other it’s all that is on your mind. Was it love that he felt deep in his heart for Cas? Or was it some misguided affection, caused by the vampire feeding him his blood? Like Sam would surely assume.

No, it was love. Dean was sure of that.

“Dean? We came here to make sure their reign of terror over the world would end.”

Dean’s fingers gently caressed the book’s page as he looked at his brother. “Maybe they’re not all bad. Cas said if I agree to be his symbiont, I’m all he needs to sustain himself.”

“His symbiont?”

“Yeah, it’s like two people who’re perfectly compatible. He’ll drink my blood and just my blood and feed me his in return.”

Sam frowned. “You’ve consumed his blood?”

“It’s sweet, like honey and ambrosia.”

“Dean, that’s…” Sam grabbed the book he’d been reading and opened it, browsing through the pages quickly. “This is fascinating. I’d never assumed it’d work like that.”

The door to the library opened. Castiel stood in the doorway, looking at Dean questioningly.

Dean shrugged, not knowing what thought had taken possession of Sam’s mind so suddenly.

Without looking up from his book, Sam said: “This conversation is not over.”

Slowly Cas strolled inside. “My love, are you feeling better?” He sat down next to Dean, then adjusted his ruffled shirt with excessive daintiness.

Dean put the book back onto the table, and fidgeted with his skirt. “A bit.” He smiled, unsure of what to think about Sam’s reaction.

Cas leaned in closer, pecking a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “How long they are. I hadn’t even noticed yet.”

Dean leaned into Cas, his bottom lip trembling as he awaited a kiss. “Who?”

“They look like golden threads.”

So close to Cas Dean’s mind spun. “What?”

“Your lashes.”

Dean closed his eyes. Cas’ breath graced his lips softly. He wanted Cas to kiss him, badly. “When do we have to be at the ball?”

“Soon.” Cas took Dean’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

Sam paced around the room, tugging a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “This is fascinating,” he repeated over and over again. “Might there be more you’ve found out? What about Alibori’s theory?

Right, Dean had almost forgotten about that one. He’d only seen himself in the mirror, hadn’t he? “Alibori’s theory is correct.”

“Which one?”

“The one with the reflection… Well, in the mirror I was alone.”

Sam was suddenly at his side, grabbed onto Dean’s shoulder. “Dean. Explain yourself more clearly.”

“I was in front of a mirror, sitting on a chair and well, I was alone. He was by my side, but no reflection, nothing, for him a blank.”

“What? Not even his clothes?”

“Not even his shirt.”

Sam sat down on the couch table. “I’d like to have seen that.”

“Oh, you still can, I don’t see why not,” said Cas. “Also there will be plenty of mirrors in the ballroom.”

Sam nodded at Cas, but when he looked at Dean again, his features grew concerned. “So, you’re sure you want to be with him? What about a human guy?”

“Society won’t have it,” Dean said grimly. “I can hide in the shadows in the human world or just be with Cas.” Dean sighed, held onto Cas and said: “You don’t have that problem, Sam. You’re straight as a pole and your first love is science.”

A wolf's howl ripped through the night. Sam turned around and walked to the window. His shoulders trembled as he put his hands on the glass. “Dean.”

“What?”

“You’ve got to look at this.”

Dean frowned, looked at Cas confused, and when the vampire nodded, he stood up and walked to the window. Underneath lay the cemetery in the moonlight’s shine. He couldn’t quite see, so he leaned forward, stretched his neck.

Two, then five, then ten, finally all of the graves opened. Men and women clothed in different styles, some in ornate renaissance attire, some in delicate silken dresses, rose from the graves. They helped each other mutually emerge, patting their clothes to get rid of the dust that must’ve settled on them over the years. Their skins seemed as white as the freshly fallen snow as they gathered together in the paths of the cemetery and proceeded in small groups towards the castle. It had a curiously pastoral atmosphere to it, like a procession almost.

“Good graces!” Dean murmured.

“Eh?” Sam grunted, his eyes, just like Dean’s, riveted on the fantastic sight. “It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?”

Dean shuddered frightfully, never having seen anything like it. “You think they’re all…”

“Undoubtedly,” Sam answered.

“Oh my God!” Were these all the vampires Cas wanted to introduce him to as his new symbiont?

“You should never have come here,” a voice from afar said.

“Then why did we come?” Dean asked and blinked.

“Ask the professor,” the voice said. Dean looked to the door, just to see Michael entering the library, holding a candelabrum. The candle’s shine illuminated his face in a ghostly fashion, casting shadows over his features. Michael walked to the window right next to them, staring outside. “Keep your surprise for later on, you’ll need it. You didn’t foresee this in your second volume still at the printers. It will be my pleasure to fill the gaps in your learning, when you attain my spiritual level. We shall then have the long winter evenings before us for our discussions…. the long evenings of many winters.”

The tinkling of a little bell rang out in the night air, and got stronger as it neared the castle. Michael fell silent for a moment, then continued: “Your brother will make an excellent companion as well. In the course of the centuries, we’ll all learn to know each other better, just as we shall.”

The castle gate opened. Two horses dragged a sleigh inside. It was halted by the stables. Chagal jumped off it, lightly landing on the ground. Brisk and breezy he went and shut the gate, then came back to the sleigh to help a woman down.

Only on second sight, Dean realized it was Magda, the maid from the inn.

“As brooks flow into streams, streams into rivers and rivers into the sea, so our adepts flow back to us and swell our ranks.” Michael’s voice swelled as he seemed to address the moon. “Soon we shall be victorious and triumphant. We shall hold sway over this earth.” He pointed to the surroundings in a circular gesture. “Which awaits our coming as autumn awaits winter.”

Down in the courtyard, Chagal skipped along, the maid at his side, towards the castle.

“Look at him,” said Michael. “Almost an old man, with his flabby stomach and spindly legs. Look at him bringing with dog-like devotion a fresh adept who only a few nights ago was under his protection.” Michael turned and walked towards the library door. “I must leave you now. See you later, gentlemen, mediatate while awaiting your return. For it would be extremely difficult for you to get away from here.” At the door he turned again, looking at Sam. “Unless of course you have wings, like a bat.”

Shaking with fear, Dean look at Cas. “What will happen now?”

“We’ll attend the ball, my love. You have nothing to fear.”

Dean’s knees shook as he walked back to the couch. He hoped Cas was right, but deep in his guts, a profound unease riled him up. Whatever Michael was going to do, it might not be pretty.

***

They walked down the hallway to the ballroom. Rows of chandeliers were lit, giving the walls a splendiferous shine. The sound of the harpsichord wavered through the air, its bright piano-like notes riling up Dean’s anxiety.

He would have felt wonderful with the tight corset hugging him and the skirt swishing around his feet if it wouldn’t have been for a ballroom full of vampires.

Cas placed his hand at the small of Dean’s back. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He gently smiled, showing his fangs.

They entered the huge ballroom, which was richly decorated with blooming roses, of which Dean quickly realized that they must’ve been dried years ago. What had once been dark red flower petals were now paper-thin sheets that might disintegrate the moment they were touched. Tables stood scattered around the polished dancefloor across which the audience was sprinkled like flecks of dust. They listened in reverent silence to the sounds of the harpsichord.

If he hadn’t known better, Dean might have thought this was a large family gathering enjoying the soothing effect of good music.

But at the ballroom’s side opposite the castle’s windows the wall was plastered with huge mirrors, which showed none of the people who’d gathered. Only Sam and Dean were to be seen as they walked inside.

Sam whispered: “You’re right. Dean, you’re right.”

Dean looked out for familiar faces amongst the crowd and the only one he could find was Serafina, who sat at the far side of the ballroom, leaning back in her chair. She had arranged her long brown hair in an artful updo, a tiara glittering in the candle shine.

When she saw Dean she frowned.

Footsteps echoed on the floor as Michael walked inside the room. The music ceased and everyone fell silent.

Michael glanced around the assembly. He went up to a tapestry curtain that was hung between the first and second window. He stopped in front of it and started to talk in what seemed to be a well-rehearsed tone, like a preacher addressing his flock: “A year ago…” He let a silence fall before continuing. “A year ago, exactly on this same night, we were assembled here, in this room: I, your pastor and you, my beloved flock. With hopefulness in my heart I told you then that with Lucifer’s aid we might look forward to a more succulent occasion. Cast back your minds! There we were gathered together, gloomy and despondent, around that single meager miller…. A year has elapsed and although travelers turn up more and more seldom in these parts, in spite of this, I have this evening a great, wonderful surprise for you!”

A buzz of thrilled appreciation passed through the gathering.

Michael put a hand on the curtain. “Dearly beloved brethren, come closer…”

They all slowly walked towards him.

Michael drew the curtain aside, revealing Sarah, adorned in her gown, standing back against the wall, shivering, her eyes downcast.

Dean could already feel the crowd’s buzz of excitement as they moved closer, gathering around her.

Krolock raises his hand, stopping the crowd. “This isn’t all, this isn’t all,” he exclaims. “Yet another human is at this very moment groomed and…”

The crowd’s buzz turned into a roar, drowning his voice.

“What about these?” A croaking voice from the crowd asked.

Dean, shaking to the bone, clutched tight to Cas’ hand.

Michael hissed at Cas. “Those are yet up for debate, as Castiel has claimed to have found his symbiont.”

“He should prove it,” a female voice in the crowd demanded.

Michael strolled forward. “Have you heard? You should prove it.” He bared his teeth, eyes transfixed on Dean.

Cas stepped forward, positioning himself in between Michael and Dean. “I claim this human to be my companion.”

“Nonsense,” Michael said, his canines prolonged. “He could as well be mine.”

“Dean…,” whispered Sam right next to him.

Dean’s heart beat like a drum against his chest. Ridden with panic he stared at Sam, eyes wide. He’d been sure that the evening wouldn’t pass by easily, but he’d not anticipated Michael challenging Cas.

The crowd followed Michael as he approached slowly, like a tiger ready to jump. “You have no right to him, Castiel. This is my castle, this is my law.”

“Yes,” a woman in the background cheered. “He’s yours, count. Take him. Take him!”

Dean slowly moved backwards, knees shaking. Castiel still stood his ground, his stance wide, ready to fend off any attack. “He is not,” Cas said, gritting his teeth. “He’s mine.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s left arm, pulling at him. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Dean looked at Cas, then back at Sam. “We can’t leave him here,” he said. “Michael will kill him.”

“Dean! Is that really your main concern right now? The vampire?”

Dean froze. Cas was ready to defend him with his life. And Dean was ready to defend Cas. “I love him,” he whispered.

“Jesus,” Sam hissed.

The crowd closed in on Castiel from all sides, slowly surrounding him. A woman wearing a huge white wig, her cheeks powdered white, raised her hands, exposing claws instead of fingernails.

A shrill scream ripped through the tension in the room, making Michael’s head snap to the side. “Chagal,” he cursed.

A gasp drove through the crowd as Serafina jumped at Michaele. She grabbed his head, spun it around, baring her teeth. The loud crack of Michael’s neck suddenly breaking chilled Dean’s bones. “Run!” she yelled at Cas. “Take him and run!”

The white powdered woman lunged at her first. “Whore,” she yelled. “Dirty, filthy whore.”

Cas turned, grabbed Dean’s hand quickly and pulled him out of the ballroom.

“Snatch the man from them!!!” called someone behind them.

They ran outside the ballroom and into the corridor. Sam quickly grabbed the left side door and pulled. Cas did the same with the right and from a knight’s armor that stood nearby he grabbed a sword, barricaded the door with it.

Slowly he walked backwards while the crowd banged against the door from the inside, screaming: “Traitor.”

“What about Sarah?” asked Dean. They couldn’t leave the girl behind, could they?

But Cas only took his hand, dragged him down the corridor. “We can’t help her. She’s as good as dead.”

Sam looked from Cas to the door and back. “She might still be salvageable. After a good transfusion and two or three days of rest, she might be as right as rain.”

Cas just kept dragging Dean down the hallway. “I have seen enough humans drained. She’s lost, believe me. Come on. No one can save her.”

Sam followed behind them still staring at the door in shock. With a loud clank the sword fell down onto the stone floor.

They ran down the corridor hastily. Wild voices called them as they reached the stone staircase, the one they’d followed Hunchback down. Quickly they descended, their footsteps echoing against the narrow walls and Dean’s costume rustling while he panted heavily. Downstairs they surged through the door, and slammed it shut in haste.

They were in the workshop, where tools were sitting on workbenches. In the middle of the room, a half-built coffin lay on the floor.

It could’ve been made for any of them. Magda, Sarah, even Sam. Dean stared at it in shock.

“Quick,” Sam exclaimed, pointing at the open door.

They jumped over the wooden planks lying on the floor, ran out into the castle’s courtyard. With Sam leading them on, they rushed in the direction of the stables. Inside, the horses were still harnessed to the sleigh.

Loud howls announce the imminent arrival of the mob. It swept into the courtyard like an avalanche.

Cas rapidly helped Dean climb into the sleigh, then hurled himself against the postern-gate, and frenziedly pushed it open.

Sam jumped on the sleigh’s driver's seat and grabbed the whip. Standing with his lean shanks wide apart, he cracked the whip with sweeping movements. The horses leapt forward, neighing loudly.

Just as the sleigh lurched out of the stables, the crowd dashed inside behind them, howling and screaming. At the castle gate, Cas leaped in, grabbing Dean and dragging him down, pressing him against the sleigh’s wooden floor. The sleigh shot through the postern-gate and out of the castle.

The thong of pursuers stopped at the outskirts of the castle, rooted in the snow, their bodies turned in their direction while the sleigh’s bells tinkled away.

Dean couldn’t help but stare at their blank faces, while the sleigh rushed down the snow-covered road. Its bells tinkling soon became the only sounds to be heard while the riled up crowd slowly vanished from sight.

Sam zealously whipped the horses on while Cas tenderly clasped Dean close to his chest.

Suddenly, to their right, a coffin shot past like a bullet from under the pines. Hunchback stared at them, startled for a second, desperate at having missed his target. Following its dizzy course the coffin flew off the left side of the track where the downward slope was steeper and dashed into the thickest part of the forest.

Under the stunned gaze of Sam, Dean and Cas, the coffin smashed into smithereens among the pines below in a great explosion of snow. A second later, wolves howled, raucous and fierce.

Just moments later, a heavy silence fell onto the forest, broken only by the clear tinkle of bells.

Cas held Dean even tighter as the sleigh plodded on its way down the hill and through the night.

Sam looked at them quickly, then sat down, holding tightly onto the bridle. “We made it out,” he said, his shoulders gradually relaxing.

Cas pressed a kiss onto Dean’s lips. “My love, now we’re finally free.” He grinned at Dean, the tips of his white canines flashing.

Dean kisses Cas again, deep and fevered and longing. He had no idea where they would go together or how they would live, a vampire and his human, out in the world, but they would figure it out.

Sam, on the other hand, was aware that he was carrying an evil away with him, the very evil he wished to destroy. But also he realized that he had to think beyond simplicities like good and bad from now on, allowing for more shades of gray in his research. After all, whatever appears to be evil might be salvation after all.

The End.