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“Now everyone relax and find your center,” the instructor said. “Very good. Now to find your spirit animal, you need to reach through your center and out into the universe.”
Dean watched as his students attempted to do just that. It was hard visualize what he explained, but the concept of turning inward to find what was missing outside wasn't new. Spiritualists and shaman had been doing it for centuries.
“Remember, you can't force an encounter with your spirit animal,” Dean said. “If you're going to meet them, all you need to do is open yourself up and welcome them in.” Rolled his eyes when Zep rolled onto her back and exposed her belly. The nearly white, gray wolf was as bored as he was, but at least she could show it. He had to maintain a strict professional facade while leading these classes, it was expected that he be mature regardless of his age.
The Guide and Sentinel Association was the poorly named governing body that regulated the training and certification of sentinels and guides in the United States. It had been formed in response to pending legislation that would have reduced those with the gifts to nothing more than government property. The push to control sentinels and guides had come about due to a single man born with guide abilities, who had decided to use them against humanity. While it wasn't perfect, the GSA had managed to assuage the fears of a population that had become openly hostile to people that were genetically presupposed to protecting them.
Like any governing body the GSA had its share of rock stars and pariahs within its members. Dean was considered a potential super star. Empathic since the age of three, he was one of the strongest guides in the country. The official story was that his mother had been attacked in their home during a break in. The truth was something the GSA was very happy to keep hidden from the general public.
There were times when he wished he hadn't come fully online as a child, this was one of them. This was the sixth class he had been assigned by the local GSA in the last year and he was sick of being the go to Guide for the beginners. Technically he was certified to be an instructor and had been for three years. A certification that had come from spending most of his free time proving old adage 'a guide's life is not his own'. Which he honestly didn't resent most of the time, he'd certainly learned a lot. His mother insisted that he wasn't allowed to be teach classes until he was out of high school.
A little less than a year since he'd gotten his diploma and he was a regular on the schedule at the local Center. He was a popular instructor, not jut because of his notoriety or his good looks. He had been told on multiple occasions that he was an effective and attentive instructor.
Most of the people in the class were latent. The potential was in their DNA, they had a few episodes either empathy or sensory awareness that had them running to a Center. The odds that any of these attending the class would actually reach the level of spiritual awareness required to find their spirit animal was about a hundred to one, but there was always the exception.
He was pretty sure the petite brunette at the back of the class was more focused on getting his attention that she was finding her spiritual center. She wasn't the first and she certainly wouldn't be the last. He didn't even begrudge those that wanted him for a night. He'd certainly taken a few of them up on their offers so long as it was understood that there was no future in their hookup.
He felt it the moment one of the members of the class made contact with their spirit animal. The elation was all vibrations and colors on an empathic level. Seeing the cormorant land in front of the young woman that had said she was going into the Navy was heartening. An aquatic bird was a good match for her career choice.
The door to the class room swung open and hit the wall with a bang, throwing everyone out of their meditation. Dean had been focusing in the people in class, not paying attention to the fact that his little brother was approaching.
“Dean! There you are,” Sam said excitedly.
Dean turned to glare at his brother who seemed oblivious to what he had just interrupted. “My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. Please relax for a few minutes and we'll begin this exercise again.”
“Dean, you're not going to believe what happe-,” Sam began. Dean grabbed his brother by the arm, cutting him off mid word and dragged him out into the hallway.
“Sam, what was so important that you barged into on a meditation room without so much as knocking?”
“Meditation room?” Sam looked at the door with the little red light above the frame like he had just noticed it. “Oh.” He cringed and looked ashamed.
“Oh?” Dean crossed his arms. “You call yourself a Sentinel? Now I have sooth twenty people that are now stressed from your violent interruption and all you can say is 'Oh'?”
“Sorry?” Sam cringed. “But there was this guy at school, he said he was a recruiter for Kansas Reach and Rescue.”
“Sammy, tell me you didn't sign anything,” Dean demanded.
“No, of course I didn't,” Sam said. “But he wanted to talk to you about starting training while I was still in school.”
“Why would he want to talk to me?” Dean asked patiently, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from his brother.
“Well, you're my guide and I would need your permission to start early training, because I'm still a minor. Otherwise I have to wait until I graduate and that is in two years.”
“Sam, I've said this before and I will say it again,” Dean gritted his teeth. “I am not your guide. I was able to help you and be a surrogate for you when you were younger because I had been in training for years before you came online.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sam rolled his eye. “You keep saying that, but I haven't seen any sign of a sentinel coming to sweep you off your feet.”
That stung, but Dean didn't show it outwardly. “There is a reason siblings don't often bond. You need to start going to the meet and greets if you're so hot to trot about Search and Rescue. Find a guide that is compatible and wants the same thing as you.”
Sam looked at him in confusion. “But that was what you always wanted. You used to say it how cool it would be, saving lives.”
“I stopped talking about that years ago.” Dean shook his head. “Which part of 'I have a full scholarship to Kansas University' did you miss?”
“Yeah,” Sam snorted. “And here you are playing guru to a bunch of latent wannabees.”
“Go home before I call Mom and let her know you skipped last period again,” Dean threatened.
“You wouldn't,” Sam retorted.
“In a heart beat,” Dean replied.
“God, you're such an jerk lately,” Sam stomped down the hall toward the exit.
“Well that was fun,” Bobby Singer said from behind Dean.
Dean turned and looked at the veteran sentinel. The man was dressed like he always was; jeans, t-shirt, and an old baseball cap. His scruffy appearance could be off putting to people that didn't know him. “Sorry about that, Bobby,” Dean sighed.
“You're not the one that needs to be apologizing, son,” he took off his hat and scratched his scalp. “What the hell is up with him?”
“He's got this bug up his butt about me being his guide,” Dean sighed. “I thought if I stayed for another year, I would be able to convince him.”
“You shouldn't have stayed,” Bobby said. “Hell, you should have taken that scholarship to MIT. A little distance would do that boy a lot of good.”
“Mom asked me to,” Dean sighed. “When Dad got hurt on that damned hunt.”
“Yeah,” Bobby nodded sharply. “When do you go for orientation?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Dean replied. “I'm not going to screw this up.”
“I know you won't.” Bobby replied. “There is no crime in being selfish once in a while.”
“Tell that to my family.” Dean huffed.
“I just might, if they don't back off,” Bobby promised. He checked his watch. “You better go check on your students before they think you've abandoned them.”
“On it.” Dean turned back to the class and with a deep breath, opened the door. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
** **
“You could have humored him you know,” John said that night, his leg propped up on a tool box, in a brace. He was still doing physical therapy for the leg injury that had benched him for the past nine months. “He's still just a kid.”
“Oh, that is just crap and you know it.” Dean stood up from where he had been elbows deep into the 67 Impala's engine. “I was dealing with responsibilities of someone twice my age when I was sixteen.”
“I know,” John grimaced. “We shouldn't have done that, but you handled it better than anyone should have had a right to expect.” He fiddled with straps on his brace.
“I'm not saying what you did back then was wrong,” Dean replied. “I'm saying you let Sam get away with too much crap. It's going to effect his decision making abilities as he gets older.”
“He's a sentinel,” John said.
“That does not mean he's infallible,” Dean replied. “Grandpa Campbell was a sentinel and he was a complete asshole.”
“Dean!” John gaped at him, horrified, but there was a glint of humor radiating off of him.
“What? It's true,” Dean said. “He was mean and cold to everyone except Mom and Grandma. He actively hated Henry.” His grandfather on his father's side had never liked being called 'grandpa' and insisted on being called by his first name.
“You're exaggerating,” John said.
“Empathy, I know what he was feeling.” Dean reminded him. “I got to spend a Summer with Granny Deanna and Grandpa Samuel when I was ten. Either his personal shields were absolute crap or he didn't bother, because I know exactly how he felt about you, Henry, and the Men of Letters.”
“Jesus, Dean,” John gaped at him. “Why didn't you ever say anything?”
“Empathic ethics 101, 'Do not divulge the feelings you pick up from others unless there is an imminent threat of physical or emotional harm',” Dean recited. “He never did anything outwardly hostile, so I never said anything.”
“If he weren't dead I'd punch him in the mouth,” John grumbled.
“If he weren't dead, I wouldn't have said anything,” Dean replied.
“Are you all set for tomorrow,” John asked.
“Yeah, I have all my paperwork packed and ready to go,” Dean replied.
“You're mother should be back by the time you leave tomorrow.” John said. “I know she wanted to talk to you before you left.”
“I'm going for orientation,” Dean remarked. “Not a six month road trip.” He reached back into the engine and tightened the last of the new spark plugs. He then set the wires from the distributor onto each plug tip. He had about an hours worth of work left on he engine, he planned on finishing it before going to bed.
“When should we expect you back?” John asked.
“You're guess is as good as mine,” Dean said. “You're the one who went to college. That whole Man of Letters education.”
“Your grandfather doesn't understand why you didn't want to study under him,” John sighed.
“He's family,” Dean said. “The gods know I love the man, but his concept of good study habits and mine do not match. Besides, I know more lore at this point than he does. I'd be wasting my time had losing my mind with his constant hovering.”
“You know the lore, but he said your spell casting ability needs a lot of work,” John reminded him.
“Actually, he said they were complete crap.” Dean corrected. “Why do you think I'm going to school for engineering? The technology used by the MoL hasn't been updated in at least 30 years. It's starting to look like an underground version of Hogwarts.”
John didn't answer that, but Dean could tell he was annoyed. Anytime he was critical of the secret society, it grated on him. Sure there were tried and true methods of hunting and the MoLs only took on the most egregious and dangerous outbreaks of supernatural activity, but they needed to update or they would stagnate.
John groaned and stood. “Don't stay out here all night,” he said as he headed back into the house.
Dean finished his work and wiped down the excess dirt and grime that had built up on the engine from just general use. He carefully cleaned his hands before he closed the hood. His baby was freshly washed and waxed, the chrome glittered and the glass was spotless. He was all set to go.
** **
It was literally a ten minute drive to the campus. Which when Dean thought about it was ridiculous. There were students that were coming here from across the state. Hell, he was pretty sure there were some people coming from across the country. How was it that he was the one that was late?
Dean growled in frustration, there was a reason that he needed to get his own place and this was it. His brat of a little brother had sabotages his car. All that work last night, making sure the engine purred like a kitten, and 'someone' had let the all the air out of the Impala's tires. He'd had to find the value pins, which Sam kindly threw in the garage garbage can, and then he had to inflate the tires. Thankfully, they owned an air compressor. All the while praying the weight of the car hadn't damaged the tires or bent the rims.
Sam was lucky he was in a hurry, because he would have dragged him out of school for a tongue lashing otherwise. As it was he was going to teach Sam that pissing off a guide was never a good thing.
Luckily the orientation was only five minutes into the introductory presentation. Dean settled into a seat at the back of the hall and listened intently as the presenter explained where things were and the rules of the campus. There were proper ways of handling different situations and who to contact when it came to personal or professional conflicts.
There was a small GSA Center on campus with quiet rooms and suites set up for emergencies be they psychic or sensory in the medical center. Dean had requested a tour when he first applied and had found the facilities small but adequate for the size of the university's population. Any emergency that the campus couldn't handle could be transferred to the main GSA Center that was less than five miles down the road.
The freshmen split into several smaller groups depending on their major and were given a detailed tour of the areas. Dean's group headed to the engineering hall. He had seen it before, but it was good to have a refresher.
Zep appeared to his left and sniffed the air, her ears were up and she looked extremely interested in something farther out into the campus. “I'm a little busy, Zep,” he sent to her mentally. “Can it wait?”
Zep flattened her ears back in annoyance but sighed and settled with following Dean at a distance.
Dean would follow her when he was done with the tour. He just hoped it was something good. The last time she had acted any way similar had been when she sensed a shape-shifter stalking a young man in the local shopping mall. Thankfully this didn't have the weight of a life and death situation to it. If it had he would have come running. The next two hours were as he expected but now he was distracted and instead of being excited, he wanted to get it over with so he could find out what had his spirit animal out of sorts.
“For any of you that are here with athletic scholarships, the Student Center has a list of where and when the coaches expect you to report,” said the grad student that was giving them the tour. “First official day of classes is in two weeks. Please remember what days your classes are, as we are not your baby sitters and we are not your parents. You miss a class, it is on you to make arrangements with your professors or fellow students to obtain any material you need. That ends our tour. Please feel free to explore the campus on your own.”
Dean turned and headed down one of the walkways heading toward where Zep was impatiently pacing. She didn't like waiting, bu she did understand that sometimes parts of human society took precedent. “Okay, show me.”
Zep took off down the path toward the football stadium. Instead of going inside, Zep led him around the back toward a smaller field next to it. There were several athletes gathered together practicing Track and Field throwing events. Most of them were over at the discus field practicing their form. Zep waited under the cover of some sparse foliage staring at the group. Dean leaned against her slightly and he could feel her sub-vocal growling.
There was one man that caught Dean's eye. A man in a business suit just under the cover of the trees. He was average height and thick blonde hair, there was an oiliness that seemed to surround the man. Dean narrowed his eyes and stepped back for more cover. He increased his mental shields before reaching out to touch the man's aura. He recoiled in horror at the deep evil that radiated off him. He took another step back out of sight and opened his messenger bag.
He never went anywhere without at least a few hunting tools. However, he hadn't expected there to be a freaking demon on the campus. Salt, holy water, a medium sized iron knife, and a silver stake were all he had on him. He had a set of MoL shackles in the trunk of his car, but that was all the way across the campus.
Dean palmed the holy water flask and settled his messenger bag for easy opening. “Let's go introduce ourselves,” he said to Zep.
He came out into clear view of the sports field. The athletes were switching over to the javelin. The demon in the business suit was talking to one of the athletes off to the side. The young man looked nervous and maybe a little desperate. Dean stretched out and felt a very familiar kind of desperation. The kind made by family pressures and expectations. Pressure to preform, pressure to excel, pressure to meet the standards set by the generation before you. Some people would sell their souls to have that kind of pressure go away.
Dean walked straight for the pair. His eye wide with surprise and happiness. “Dave?” He said loud enough for the whole field to hear him. “Dave is that you? I didn't know you were going to KU? Why didn't you tell me?”
The young man looked at him like he was crazy. His eyes wide and panicky. “I'm sorry,” he said. “You're mistaken.”
He was within twenty feet of them and he changed his expression to one of hurt. “Dave, come on man. Don't be like that.”
“I don't know who you think I am, but my name isn't Dave,” the guy said.
“It isn't?” Ten feet away. “You lied?” Five feet.
“I didn't lie, I've never met you before!”
The demon narrowed his eyes at Dean. “We're having a private conversation. Why don't you fuck off.”
“Rude much?” Dean turned to the demon. “Aren't you hot dressed like that?”
“Where I'm from makes this place feel chilly.”
“Man, I'm sorry. You look just like my friend Dave. I gotta take a picture, he'll never believe it.” Dean pulled the flash of holy water out and splashed the demon with it.
“Fuck,” he cursed as smoke rose from his body everywhere the water hit. His eyes turned blood red.
“What are you doing?” the guy said in a panic.
“Saving you from an eternity of hell fire,” Dean replied. “Zep!” The wolf spirit appeared out of nowhere and tackled the demon before he could recover. Pinning him to the ground. “Can you hold him?”
Zep yipped and clamped her teeth gently against the demon's shoulder.
“Get this mutt off me!” the demon demanded.
“Hold him there, Zep.” Dean started reciting the standard exorcism from memory. The rest of the track team had run away at this point. “That is a really rude thing to call a spirit animal.”
“Spirit animal?” he said in shock. “You're a fucking guide?”
Dean was almost at the end when he paused. “You bet your ass. Tell your red eyed buddies that KU is off limits.”
“You think you can dictate where we go? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I'm a Winchester,” Dean replied and finished the recitation over the demon's cursing. Zep released her hold on the demon. Red smoke rose into the air and imploded on itself as it was forced back to hell. He looked down at the man that had been possessed and gave a sigh of relief when he saw that the host was alive and unhurt.
“Why did you do that?” demanded the young man. “He said he could help.”
“That was a demon, buddy,” Dean replied heatedly. “Would you really have sold you soul into eternal torment for a a decade of you parents not bugging the shit out of you?”
“He didn't say it like that,” he said horrified.
“Of course he didn't he wouldn't get you to agree to it if he was brutally honest about it,” Dean replied. “Did you even ask how he would get them to stop?”
“Well, no.”
“They would have killed your parents, as it is usually the quickest way to end a problem,” Dean said.
“But I don't want them dead,” he denied.
“Lucky thing I showed up then,” Dean offered his hand. “Dean Winchester, Freshman.”
“Hercules Rumsfeld the third,” he said shaking his hand. “Sophomore.”
“Ouch,” Dean replied.
“Tell me something I don't know.”
“So do you go by Herc or Les?” Pronouncing it like 'cheese'.
“Les,” he said. “My father goes by Herc.”
“You can't let you family force you into something you're not comfortable with,” Dean said.
“You don't know my family,” Les said.
“Maybe not, but it's your life, your soul that you put at risk thinking a demon deal is the only way out.” Dean looked around. “How'd you even know how to summon it?”
“Summon?” Les asked, confused. “He just showed up.”
“Oh, that's just great,” Dean muttered. “That means someone else summoned it.”
** **
“You can't just go to college can you, kid?” Bobby said, as the EMTs loaded the stretcher with the still unconscious possession victim into the ambulance.
“Not my fault,” Dean crossed his arms. “Zep sensed it first.”
“So you figured you'd go solo?” Bobby glared back. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I needed to save some guy from selling his soul over something a little family counseling would handle better.”
“Your dad is bitching from one side of his house to the other,” Bobby said. “So is you Grandfather.”
“Yeah, unfortunately, there really isn't much we can do about that,” Dean sighed. “They always freak out when I land a hunt.”
“Maybe it's because you just turned twenty,” Bobby reminded him. “Hunters, even Letters trained hunters, die all the time.”
“They just don't want to admit that Sam actually has to start looking for his Guide. If I died, it would force the issue,” Dean muttered.
Bobby went very still next to him. “Dean?”
“Oh, don't look like that,” Dean rolled his eyes. “You know I didn't mean it that way.”
“You keep this up and I'll have you in counseling before you can blink,” Bobby replied heatedly.
“Fine, sorry,” Dean replied. Zep came up beside him and leaned against his leg.
“Listen, I know you hate going to them, but there is a get together happening at the Center this weekend,” Bobby said. “Lots of new faces because of that theology conference.”
“That thing Henry was waxing poetic about last week?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, a lot of international Men of Letters and people associated with them are coming,” Bobby said.
“You've met every Sentinel in a five hundred mile radius. The one you're looking for isn't here.”
“I know,” Dean replied. “Okay, I'll come.”
**
Dean came home hours later than he originally intended. He could feel the tension running through the house. Dad, Mom, and Sam were all waiting for him. You'd think he'd been out drinking all night. Which he had been seriously contemplating, but he had never shirked his duties to his family and this little meeting was something he knew was coming. Putting it off would just make him more stressed out.
Dean saw Gimmick, Sam's fox spirit animal, hiding under the coffee table in the living room. She was looking upset and a little ashamed. Unfortunately, the fox was as prone to mischief as the human she was bonded to so he could never tell when it was an act.
His family was gathered in the kitchen sitting around the table. Of all of them his mother was the one that looked the most upset. She was pale and clutched at her coffee mug tight that her knuckles were white. John looked angry and Sam looked ready to explode.
“I guess you all know why I brought you here today,” Dean said using a severe tone. “I've come to the conclusion that the butler did it.” The matching looks of consternation were totally worth it.
“This isn't a joke, Dean,” Mary said. “You could have been killed.”
“You had us worried sick after Singer called,” John said. “Demons are nothing to play with.”
“I wasn't playing and I wasn't being reckless,” Dean said. “Zep was able to help me pull off the exorcism and no one was hurt. Hell, even the guy that was possessed is going to be okay.”
“That's not the point,” Mary said.
“Then what is the point, Mom?” Dean asked, exasperated. “You, Grandma, and Grandpa taught me how to hunt, how to fight. Dad and Henry taught me the lore and ancient writing. Why do any of that if you didn't want me using it?”
“You should have called for backup,” John said sternly. “Do you have no understanding of what a demon can do?”
“I know, I've had it drilled into my head for years,” Dean replied. “They are stronger, faster, and they don't care what happens to their hosts.”
“Then why did you put yourself at risk?” Mary demanded.
“A soul was in danger,” Dean said evenly. “Some innocent kid was about to fuck himself up for the rest of eternity.”
“One soul is not worth your life,” John ground out.
“Did you just tell me that the fate of a human soul isn't worth fighting for?” Dean asked. “Then why the hell do we even bother to hunt monsters at all?”
“That isn't what your father meant,” Mary replied. “Every life we save is important, but you're important too. You're barely into your twenties. Don't you know what losing you would do to us?”
“You were hunting by the time you were eighteen,” Dean pointed out.
“I wasn't doing solo hunts,” Mary replied. “And it isn't just your life you are risking.”
“Not this again,” Dean could feel his ire grow.
“Watch your tone,” John warned.
“What has my tone got to do with anything?” Dean demanded. “You're going to say I put Sam as risk, by doing my damn job.”
“You're job is to protect your sentinel,” Mary said, her one hand landing comfortingly on Sam's shoulder. Sam hadn't said anything yet, but he radiated smugness and his eyes glittered with satisfaction.
“And I will,” Dean stared at Sam. “When I find them.” The smugness faded and real anger took it's place.
“You always say that,” Sam stood, kitchen chair scraping backward. “You're just jealous because I'm the sentinel and your just the guide. You hate the idea that once you admit the truth that you'd second fiddle to me.”
“Second fiddle?” Dean smirked at the twin looks of horror on his parents faces. “Really?”
“I'm smarter than you,” Sam replied. “I get better grades than you. I've had more girl friends than you. Even Henry thinks I'll be a Man of Letters before you.”
“And you think that means anything in the real world, Sammy?” Dean asked. “Do you know how many hunts a real Man of Letters actually handles in their lifetime? One maybe as many as five if they are really determined to do fieldwork. Most are stuck in libraries and bunkers doing research and cataloging old relics.”
“Dad goes on hunts all the time,” Sam retorted.
“Because he married Mom and the Campbells are hunters,” Dean shot back. “As a Sentinel, how well do you think you'll handle being cooped up in a dusty little room filled with books. Knowing that out there in the world, people are dying everyday. Will it bother you at all? I hope not, because, unless you get your head out of your ass and find your guide, that is all you'll be allowed.”
“Shut up.” Sam flushed with anger.
“You know I really feel sorry for whoever it is that is destined to be your guide,” Dean said. “Because no one wants to have to live with a smug little asshole like you for the rest of their lives.”
“Dean!” John stood. “Apologize to your brother!”
“Like hell,” Dean replied. “Did you know he let all the air out of the Impala's tires this morning so I was late for orientation?”
John turned to Sam in horror. “You what?” Sam cringed away, only to have the irate mother block his escape.
“He's really lucky that the rims didn't bend, since they are original,” Dean continued. “As it is, I'm going to have to get all four tires replaced, since I can't trust them. That's money I expect to come from his allowance.”
“Sam?” Mary's voice was hard.
“How is he going to guide me if he's over at the college?” Sam demanded.
“I'm not guiding you and I haven't for over six months,” Dean pointed out. “You're stable, and honestly not strong enough to need a full time guide for at least another few years. If you were actually pushing yourself it might be an issue, but you skate by, never extending your senses past what you want to know.”
“Shut up!” Sam demanded.
“Oh, and I don't know where you get the idea that guides are somehow less important that the sentinel,” Dean said. “But you better not let Grandma Campbell hear that.” He glared at his parents. “You let him get away with crap all the time. I swear, you let this slide and I'm out of here.” He turned and stormed out.
** **
The next few days in the Winchester household were filled with uncomfortable silences and pointed glares. Dean ignored it for the most part. Refusing to cave and apologize for something that he neither instigated nor encouraged. Neither of his parents were gifted the way he and Sam were, so they didn't really get why Sam's attitude was potentially dangerous. A sentinel with an over developed sense of entitlement could be ruinous. A single guide, almost one hundred years before, had nearly sent the entire population of sentinels and guides into government sponsored bondage.
Sam was grounded for damaging the Impala. The car had been their fathers and had been gifted to Dean on his eighteenth birthday. Dean had worked very hard to maintain the car in as perfect condition as was possible and still drive it everywhere. Rule one in the Winchester family, don't mess with Baby.
Dean looked at himself in the mirror and adjusted his tie again. He hated wearing them, but as a member of the local branch of the Men of Letter, he was supposed to set an example. He had called Henry and let him know that he was interested in attending the conference, his grandfather had been thrilled. There had been a little niggling worry in the back of his mind since the announcement of it being held in Lawrence. That many Men of Letters all in one place seemed like a terrible idea.
Bobby's suggestion that his sentinel might be among those coming had given him a spark of hope. If his Sentinel was MoL or just part of the conference, he had to check it out. He just hoped it didn't bore him to death. A bunch of old dusty men arguing over even dustier books... Theology was not his thing.
He climbed into the Impala that was now sporting a set of brand new tires, courtesy of Sam's savings account. The drive to the Oread hotel actually quite short. It was a really upscale venue with plenty of room for all the attendants and was extremely easy to find, since it was right next to the KU football stadium. He always thought the exterior was ostentatious. Dean drove up to the valet parking and held up his keys and a fifty dollar bill.
“Not a scratch,” he said, he felt a thrill of excitement off the young man as their hands touched. He tightened his grip on his keys and met the valet's eyes. “And no Ferris Bueller joy rides. I know the exact numbers on the odometer and I will check.” A wave of disappointment radiated off him as the valet nodded. Dean smiled at him and headed into the hotel.
An hour into the conference and Dean was looking for something that wasn't going to make his ears bleed from boredom. There was a panel that was going to talk about the effect of modern culture on the perception of theological archetypes. He actually considered going to that. He'd like to see what the older generation thought of things like pop culture werewolves and vampires.
There were people all over the place, some dressed very nicely. He saw his grandfather chatting with two older men and a fourth that looked about his father's age. They seemed to be friends or at least they knew each other. He walked over to see if his grandfather needed rescuing.
“Henry?” Dean said. “How are you today?”
“Dean, you made it!” Henry Winchester beamed at him. “Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to my grandson, Dean. He is starting at Kansas University next week.”
Dean shook hands of all the men. He was introduced to Clifford Henshaw who was older than Henry by at least a decade and Father Maxwell Thomson, who claimed to be an expert on demonology and who was presenting a discussion on the nature of demons. The younger man was named Cuthbert Sinclair, he seemed nice enough, but it was all Dean could do not to wrench his hand away in horror. There was nothing, not even the demon that he had dealt with only days before could compare to the complete lack of emotion. It was like touching a black hole; cold and ancient, without empathy or compassion for anyone or anything.
“My, my, Henry,” Cuthbert said with a perverse grin. “How is it that you Winchesters keep getting better looking with each generation?”
“Good genetics, as the young people would say,” Henry replied without any understanding of what he was talking to. “Isn't that right, Dean?”
“Yeah,” Dean swallowed. “How long have you known each other?”
“Going on three decades,” Cuthbert replied. “But time has little meaning when it comes to true friendship.”
“So true,” Henry agreed. “So Bert was saying that he has an exhibit he is setting up in a private room. I was thinking you might join us when it is ready. He is one of the Letters most accomplished members when it comes to spell work. Especially with wards and binding magic.”
“Oh yes,” Cuthbert said with a grin. “I think you'd find it quite educational. My presentation is at three, I look forward to seeing you there.” His eyes raked across Dean's body once before he headed left he group to talk to some others.
Dean shivered at his prurient interest. This was a man that coveted power and beauty. It echoed hollowly through him, as if he took all of physical pleasure he could from everything he did, but never gave pleasure in return.
After about a half an hour of talking to different people, Dean followed as Sinclair left the room. Mentally strengthening his shields to hide himself from magical detection. He mentally told Zep to keep her distance. There was no telling what a mage of his caliber might be able to sense.
Sinclair opened a door labeled 'Conference Room J' and entered. Dean stayed back for several minutes, waiting, watching the door. A few minutes later the mage emerged from the room looking smug and satisfied. He headed back the way he came and Dean had to quickly duck around a corner to stay hidden.
Dean sprinted to door as soon as Sinclair was out of sight. He was not surprised to find the door locked. Pulling out his lock-picks he set to work, mentally thanking Grandma Deanna for the hours she spent teaching him the proper technique. He opened the door with a soft click and ducked inside. There was a small stage in the room with a curtain drawn across it, obviously to conceal whatever as displayed behind it. He jumped up on the stage and pulled the curtain back. What he found froze him to the spot.
On the stage was a series of concentric metal rings floating above the floor. Each ring was carefully decorated with multiple set of runes and sigils. On the floor was a canvas that had been carefully laid out with an intricately embroidered devils trap on it. Except that these weren't normal runes, these were Echoian symbols. Inside the rings was a man dressed in vintage clothing. He could have stepped right out of the nineteen fifties. He appeared to be unconscious, with his eyes closed and face slack.
The man's hands were bound together where they crossed his chest with bands of silver chain, as were his knees and ankles. His mouth was covered with a leather gag that was also covered in runes. Dean stared that man's face. He looked familiar in some abstract way. He had seen that face before, but it was hard to tell with the gag in the way.
There was a pitiful whine from the right side of the stage, a black wolf spirit appeared it's blue eyes wide with hope and fear. Zep appeared next to the wolf and leaned against him, nuzzling his head trying to comfort him.
That was all Dean needed to see. He grabbed the canvas trap pulled it out from under the floating rings. He then stepped up and reached out to unbuckle the gag. The man's eyes flew open when they touched. Bright blue locked on his and Dean felt his heart lurch. It was like a piece of himself he had been searching for fell into place.
“Easy, let me get this off you,” Dean said.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“Dean Winchester, I'm here to rescue you.” Dean said with a smile. “What's your name?”
“Castiel,” the man replied. “You should leave, before he returns. The Mage is quite powerful, he'll destroy you.”
“I'm not going to leave you here,” Dean said.
“He has held me for a very long time. He will not take kindly to losing his favorite piece in his collection.”
“Collection?” Dean didn't pause as he worked at the bindings on Castiel's arms.
“He like to collect unique items,” Castiel replied. “Magic items, one of a kind pieces of art, weapon, and creatures such as myself.”
“I've met a lot of creatures in my time,” Dean said. “I don't think I've ever met one with a spirit animal.”
“As I said, I am unique,” Castiel replied without inflection. “When I chose to be born of a human born I found I was born with senses greater than those of regular humans. I did not expect such difficulty. Nor did I expect to have a spirit companion.”
“You're a sentinel,” Dean said, pulling the last of the binding off. “You said you chose to be born?”
“I was an angel,” Castiel said. “I wished to experience humanity.”
“How dare you ruin my composition!” Cuthbert declared as he stormed into the room. “I worked on the aesthetics of my presentation for weeks. Now I have to fix it before my speech.”
“Like, hell,” Dean said with a growl. He felt a force grab him and toss him across the room. He hit the far wall and collapsed into a heap.
“What are you going to do against me?” Cuthbert asked. “You think a second rate Man of Letters can stand up to my power?”
“Perhaps he can't, but I can,” Castiel said from the stage. His eyes glowed an electric blue and he raised his hand palm up. He slowly closed his hand into a fist.
Cuthbert stopped smirking and clutched his chest. “Wha-”
“You caught me when I was helpless in a fugue state,” Castiel said. “You think you can bind one such as I and not face retribution?” The black wolf snarled and circled the mage, Zep joined him cutting off the Mage's only escape route. “You think you can take my grace and use it for your own ends? It is not meant for one so corrupt.” As he pulled his clenched fist to his own chest. A trail of bluish-white energy burst out of Cuthbert's mouth and he let out an agonizing scream. The blue energy flew to Castiel, who opened his own mouth and let it enter him.
A dozen men and women burst into the room a moment later, including Henry. Cuthbert staggered and reached out toward Castiel. “Stop them!” he cried. Even as he spoke, his unnaturally young face began to age rapidly.
Dean pulled himself up onto his feet, winced and leaned against the wall when he felt something in his left shoulder shift unnaturally. “Henry,” he called. “Wait.”
“Dean?” his grandfather stared at him in shock. “What's going on?”
“They're trying to kill me!” Cuthbert screamed as he became stooped with age.
“Any death you suffer will be one that has been held at bay for too long,” Castiel said, his deep voice was like a thunderclap. Cuthbert fell to the floor his aged form reaching out to the angel before he went still.
Castiel turned to Dean, his expression softened. He stepped into Deans personal space and gently place his right hand on Dean's shoulder. “Thank you, for freeing me.” When he pulled his hand away, Dean's shoulder was healed.
“You need to get out of here,” Dean said. “They won't understand.”
“I do not fear them,” Castiel replied.
“Emotions are too high, someone just died,” Dean said. “Give me time to explain it to them.”
“I will not leave you here,” Castiel said fiercely. “My guide.” His voice filled with wonder and relief.
“My sentinel. I'll be fine,” Dean insisted. “You just need to be careful. Don't use those senses of yours without me.”
“I promise,” Castiel turned reached down and the black wolf was suddenly at his side. “I will find you.” A second later the angel vanished from the room.
“Dean, what is going on?” Henry demanded looking furious and worried.
Not even sure how to begin, Dean pointed at the desiccated corpse of Cuthbert Sinclair. “He started it.”
** **
Henry paced in front of Dean his white hair, which was normally perfectly styled now a rumpled mess from the multiple times he'd run his fingers through it. It was a nervous gesture that he almost never displayed.
Dean himself was feeling nothing short of relief for not only having rescued a man from what appeared to be decades of bondage, but he had found his sentinel. Of course he couldn't tell these people that. Not yet. The Men of Letters were a bastion of knowledge. What was it again? Preceptors, observers, beholders, and chroniclers. But they didn't get their hands dirty. They also took it really fucking personally when you offed one of their members.
Henry had taken Dean straight to the Bunker to have him tested for supernatural influences. They could test him nine ways to Sunday and they wouldn't find anything wrong with him. The only thing they found was evidence that Dean had broken his collarbone when he hit the wall and that Castiel had healed it for him before disappearing.
“Okay,” Dean sighed after a fourth vial of blood had been taken for testing. “Explain to me how I'm the bad guy.”
“You released an unknown entity from a very strong trap,” Henry said. “An entity that then killed one of our most respected members.”
“Cuthbert Sinclair was a psychopath,” Dean said calmly. “He was using a man as a battery to keep himself young. A man that all of you seem to have forgotten was once a member of this society.”
“I remember every one of our members,” Henshaw said. “Sinclair was the victim here.”
“Really?” Dean said, with a snort. He stood and walked into the library. He knew, now that he was here, where he had seen Castiel before. He grabbed an old framed photograph from the wall. The colors had faded to sepia tones, but it was still very clear.
The men and women in the photograph were standing shoulder to shoulder facing forward. Standing in the back was the man he knew as Castiel, next to him was a woman with her hair done up in a tight bun. Henshaw was in the photograph as was his grandfather and standing in the middle of the photo, holding up the date on a little sign, was Sinclair. He hadn't aged a day since the photograph.
“Then you tell me why your dear friend Sinclair is in this picture.” He shoved it into Henshaw's face. “Now you tell me who these people are.”
Henshaw looked at the photograph in confusion. “I don't understand?”
“Who is this?” Dean demanded pointing at Castiel. “You're practically standing next to him. You said you remember everyone. Who is he?”
“I... I don't... Henry?” Henshaw turned. “Who is this?”
Henry stared down at the photograph. “I don't- No wait. His name was James. He was a sentinel. Bit of a strange one. He was very insistent that his guide be treated as an equal. A scandal at the time since his guide was a woman.”
“A woman?” Dean asked, pointing to the woman in the photograph. “Is that her?”
“I suppose it might be. I don't remember what happened to them.”
“Maybe because Sinclair made you forget they existed,” Dean said heatedly. “What was the first thing you ever taught me about casting spells on people, Henry?”
“That kind of magic is a matter of will,” Henry said. “Any spell can overcome, but you must be aware you are being manipulated.”
“You said Sinclair was the best spell caster of the Letters,” Dean replied. “Can you honestly tell me that you see nothing wrong with a man ten years your senior looking no older than your own son?”
“He wasn't-” Henshaw denied.
“Yes, he was,” Dean insisted. “When we shook hands I felt him. He was cold and evil. I couldn't believe that you let a man like him into the Letters. You have to have known what he was at some point.”
“There was a time, when something Sinclair had done was considered a violation of our precepts,” Henry said. “He was put on probation and watched for several years, but he seemed to have accepted the sanctions and nothing became of it.”
“What did he do?” Dean asked.
“It was a long time ago.” Henry admitted.
“He killed a Guide,” Castiel appeared in the middle of the room. “More to the point he killed my guide.”
“Cas!” Dean stepped up to him in shock. “Are you alright?”
“I will be,” Castiel said. He held out his hand and Dean took it in his. The angel visibly relaxed as they touched. “I found myself needing to be sure you were well.”
Dean smiled and shook his head. “I'm alright, see.” His arms bore the marks of silver tests, small cuts. “No lasting harm done.”
Castiel examined the injuries and glared at Henry. “Was that necessary?”
“It's standard tests to check for possession or mimicry,” Dean explained.
“I remember,” Castiel replied. “I also remember that those tests were completely useless when it came certain types of creatures, myself included.”
“What are you?” Henry asked.
“He's-,” Dean said.
“Unimportant,” Castiel cut him off. “At the moment at least.”
Henry looked like he was going to argue the point, but stayed silent.
“You said Cuthbert killed your guide?” Henshaw said, keeping his distance.
“Yes, he murdered my guide, a woman named Josie Sands,” he replied. “He claimed that she had been possessed by a demon. He claimed he had no choice. Then when I fell into a fugue, he trapped me, bound me, and experimented on me at his leisure.”
“No,” Henry denied. “We would have known.”
Castiel gave him a pitying look. “You had a viper in your midst and you were blinded by his venom. He has manipulated this society for nearly a century. The very fact that I was able to enter this bunker with little effort speaks to how far his machinations have gone.”
“Josie was a good friend of mine,” Henry insisted. “I mourned her loss.”
“Yes, we were all friends,” Castiel replied. “I was known at the time as James Novak. We used to go out together, having dinner with your wife, Millie.”
Dean felt like crying, he could feel the pain of the people around him as they worked through the suppressed memories. There was a lot of anger and hurt, but with Sinclair dead, there was no one to focus that anger on.
“I'm sorry,” Henshaw interrupted. “But if you claim that Josie was your guide, how can you claim that Dean is your guide now?”
“The soul that was Josie reincarnated as Dean Wincheste,” Castiel said simply. “Our bond transcends death. If I had been allowed to die when she had been killed I would have joined her and we would have moved forward to whatever spiritual existence awaited us. However, Cuthbert's actions held me here, trapped and helpless.”
“That's ridiculous, reincarnation is a myth,” Henry said heatedly.
“No,” Dean said softly. “He's telling the truth. I can feel it. I knew him before I even saw him.” Dean looked at Castiel and his eyes were filled with tears. “I've been looking for him for so long, but I knew he was nearby. I just didn't know what it was I was looking for.”
“Ceatures can't be sentinels,” Henshaw insisted.
“I was human,” Castiel growled. “I lived a human life, with all the human frailties. I would have remained as such until I died.” Castiel's eyes glowed blue with anger. “Sinclair's experiments revealed my hidden grace. He decided he would force it to the forefront and tap into it. That it how he remained so young for so long. Bound as I was, I was helpless to stop him until Dean found me and released me.”
“Why did he bring you to the convention?” Dean asked. “He can't have thought anyone would stand for it.”
“I am considered a creature,” Castiel reminded him. “Not human, therefor not subject to the laws of humanity. That I was bound and in a human form would have been of little consequence to most. I would have been seen as a curiosity at best. A monster to be contained or killed.”
None of the men around them said anything in protest. It was a damning silence.
“You want to get out of here for a while?” Dean asked. “I think the Men of Letters need some time to get over their colossal fuck up.”
“I would like that.” Castiel replied. “
“Dean? You can't mean to go with him.” Henry protested. “You know nothing about him.”
“He's my sentinel,” Dean said. “I don't know him yet, not in this lifetime, but I bet it'll be fun learning.”
** **
Dean wasn't sure where they would end up when he took his Sentinel's hand, but he felt a bit of disappointment when all he saw was scrub land. “So where are we?”
“Turn around,” Castiel said, pointing directly behind him.
Dean turned and felt his heart lurch in surprise and amazement. Stretched out before him as far as he could see was a deep crevasse layers of sediment exposed showing the grandeur that was the Grand Canyon. Zep ran to the edge and ran back excitedly, the black wolf circled her and they pushed at each other playfully.
“I can't-” Dean swallowed. “Wow. I've always wanted to come here.”
“We were going to come here on our honeymoon,” Castiel said. “Once Henry Winchester had been fully initiated in the Men of Letters we were going to be married.”
“You do get that I'm not the same person I was, right?” Dean asked. “I know I was Josie, but I'm not actually that person.”
“I know,” Castiel replied. “You are Dean Winchester. I will enjoy getting to know you again, but you are very similar the person Josie was. Brave, loyal, and fiercely protective, with a very bad habit of self deprecation as a way of deflection and a dry wit.”
“So your saying you don't mind that I'm a guy now?” Dean asked.
“You know better than to ask that.” Castiel chided. “Sexuality is irrelevant when it comes to the bond between a sentinel and a guide.”
“Yeah, but Josie,” Dean made a gesture of an hourglass.
Castiel rolled his eyes. “I'm an angel Dean, I see your soul, first and foremost. The rest is irrelevant.”
“Now, I'm insulted.” Dean replied. “I work hard to keep this body in shape.”
“I do find your form quite pleasing,” Castiel admitted.
“Oh yeah?” Dean asked.
“Yes, indeed.” He pulled Dean into a soft kiss, the sense of who and what Castiel really was seemed so enormous as to be overwhelming. Ageless, but not all knowing, powerful, but filled with compassion. There was also a terrible loneliness within that Dean could feel easing with his presence.
They pulled back and Dean whispered. “I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere.”
Dean considered leaning in for kiss the man before him, but then his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and his heart sank. There were twenty texts from his mother alone. The rest were from his father and Sam.
“Jesus Christ on a cracker,” Dean muttered.
“Dean!” Castiel was both amused and a little horrified.
Dean waved his hand dismissively. “I swear to all that is holy, I love my family, but you'd think I was kidnapped or something.”
“Well, you were taken for interrogation by the Men of Letters, then you were teleported to places unknown by a unknown entity. It could be considered kidnapping.” Castiel reminded him.
“Guess it's time to face the music.” Dean replied. “Could we stay here a bit longer?”
“Of course,” Castiel said. “Whatever you want. I can tell you the story of how my sister Hael created the Grand Canyon on a bet.”
“On a bet?” Dean asked.
“Yes,”Castiel smiled. “It started with a discussion on the nature of the universe and how much electricity could be generated with solar wind and a large comet. Things went down hill from there.”
** **
This was nothing like Dean had expected when he found his Sentinel. An angel, someone of almost unlimited power, who needed him to be there, to make sure that the very human senses that he had didn't spiral out of control.
The littlest thing could set him off too. There had been a large ant hill and Castiel had become fascinated by what he described as a conversation that involved only smell and body movements. Dean had to pull him back or he would have simply stood there listening.
Dean had thought that his shields had been good before, but once they had connected, he'd found the range of his empathy expanding. There were camp grounds all over the canyon and he could feel the people in them from over a mile away. He'd tried to put up a new layer, but he found it hard to focus with all the new input. Castiel had extended part of his own angelic grace to create a buffer.
As the sun began to rise in the East Dean realized they had been walking around the canyon for several hours just exploring and talking. As they headed home, rather than go directly to the Winchester residence, Castiel took Dean over to the high school. It was an hour later in Kansas than in Arizona, so school was about a half an hour from starting.
“What are we doing here, Cas?” Dean asked.
“You need to see something.” Castiel replied. “I hope you will forgive me for spying on your family after you rescued me from my bonds, but your emotional well being is my primary concern.”
“What are you talking about?” Dean asked.
“Your brother causes you a great deal of anguish, because of his attitude toward you and guides in general,” Castiel said. “You need to see where he is getting his ideas from. When we enter the room, we will be cloaked from even sentinel senses, as long as we do not speak or separate.” He took Dean's hand in his and they seemed to walk right through the wall. Though Castiel later explained that they had taken a very short flight into the ether and back.
Sam was sitting in a room with half a dozen other people, they ranged in age from fourteen to one of the teachers, a woman in her early thirties.
The teacher smiled as she rolled out a poster that was yellow with age. “This is what I've been talking about.” The poster read “The Guide Controlled Us All”. “This is why all guides have to be carefully watched and controlled. “We had a guide that ran for public office and used their empathic abilities to make people want to vote for him. Those bleeding hearts back in the day refused to take the steps necessary to make sure it never happened again.”
“But, Ms. Ruby, what about the training at the GSA centers?” The youngest in the group asked. “Don't they check for problems like that?”
“Oh sure, they say they do, but what do we really know about what goes on in those centers?” she said. “For all we know their propaganda is just that. The guides could be working to overthrow the government through emotional manipulation right now and we'd never know it.”
“But the Centers are suppose to help,” said a teen aged girl with long blonde hair. She looked scared and angry.
“But do they?” Ms. Ruby asked. “Do they really?” When no one answer she kept speaking. “They keep track, you know, of all the people with the genes for sentinels and guides. I can tell you that there is evidence that they are carefully breeding people with the right genes to make superior guides and sentinels, so that when the take over does occur, they will have an army.”
“Like my brother Dean and me,” Sam said. “The center has Dean convinced that his sentinel is out there somewhere, so he keeps looking. I keep telling him he's wrong, but he won't listen.”
“Of course not Sammy,” Ms Ruby said. “Believe me, your story isn't unique. They're looking for a good genetic match for both of you. You're perfect breeding stock. You'll be pointed in the direction of some pretty young thing and you'll fall head over heels. The next thing you know, you're bonded and you've already got a kid on the way. No grand adventures for you dear boy. No saving the tribe, unless it's a major disaster.”
“I don't want that!” Sam exclaimed. “I want to help people.”
“Not like you'll have a lot of choice if the GSA gets their way.” Ms. Ruby replied, a mocking smirk gracing her lips.
“That's not fair!” Sam declared.
“Well, if you want to change it, then you have to make sure you get what you want. Demand Dean's obedience, after all a rogue guide is a danger to everyone. Force the bond if he refuses.”
Sam stared at her in horror. “I can't do that!”
“Why not?” she asked. “They'll do it to you when they find a guide they want to pair you with.”
Dean squeezed Castiel's hand hard enough to break fingers in an average human. This explained so much of Sam's behavior. He'd heard of people like Ms. Ruby. They were part of an extreme hate group called 'Guide Watch'. They believed that all guides should be placed in camps and drugged into obedience. They liked to get bring in young and impressionable people into their organization. Their movement was small but insidious.
The first warning bell rang through the school. “Alright everyone, remember we meet next week on Monday same time in room A12.” The rest of the gathered students left the room. “Sam stay for a moment. I know this is upsetting.” Sam looked stricken. Ms Ruby approached him with a sultry sway of her hips. “I understand. Dean is your brother, right? You love him, you don't want to hurt him.”
“No I don't,” Sam said. “I just don't understand why he wants to abandon his family.”
“Some people just don't see family the way you do, Sam,” she said, leaning forward so that her low cut shirt opened to reveal her ample breasts for a moment, before straightening. Sam was entirely distracted by the display.
“So what should I do?” Sam asked.
“Well, there is always 'the red'” Ms. Ruby replied. She pulled out a vial of red liquid from her purse. “A couple of drops in his drink once a day for a few weeks and you'll see a remarkable change in his attitude.”
“No.” Sam stammered and got up from the desk, backing away. “I know what that is, that shit is dangerous. It can kill people.”
“Only if you give too much,” Ms. Ruby assured him.
“No, no way.” Sam replied and grabbed his books. “I'm going to be late for class.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Ms. Ruby called after him. When Sam was gone she started muttering in frustration. “Fucking brat. I thought I had him that time.”
Dean felt a rage that he had never experienced for the woman. How she used her sexuality against his little brother. The way she manipulated Sam's emotions. He wanted to hurt her for confusing Sam and encouraging his possessiveness and wrong headed thinking. He wanted to get her away from his brother and anyone else that she might twist with her sultry smile and black heart.
The classroom door slammed shut on its own, at the same moment the vial in her hand shattered and glass shards embedded themselves in her hand and face. The drug splashed all over her skin into the cuts. She screamed even as she fell, her body convulsed, her eyes rolled back into her head.
Dean turned his head to look at Castiel, his sentinel tilted his head in a curious way, then nodded in satisfaction. A moment later they were standing outside Dean's family home.
“What was that?” Dean demanded.
“Perhaps we need to examine our bond a bit more closely.” Castiel commented. “I did not close the door or shatter the vial. That was your anger manifest in an act of will, protecting your family from someone that sought to do irreparable harm to you and your whole family. You are able to now manipulate matter, much the same way you can manipulate emotion.”
“That's not good.” Dean said.
“Perhaps,” Castiel replied. “But it is no less than she deserved. You saw into her heart, it was as black as any demon. There would have been no way for true justice to be served on one such as her.”
“Doesn't mean I had the right to kill her.” Dean replied, upset. “I didn't even think about it. It just happened.”
“You didn't kill her. The contents of the vial killed her. She should have had it in a shatter proof container if it was that dangerous.” Castiel shrugged. “Besides, you are a hunter as well as my guide. It is as much your right to defend your tribe, just as it is mine.”
“Okay,” Dean felt his knees go weak. “I think I need to lay down.”
“Dean?” Castiel hoisted Dean effortlessly into his arms. A moment later they were in Dean's bedroom. Castiel gently laid him down on his bed. “What you did took a great deal of energy. Sleep. I'll watch over you.”
“My sentinel,” Dean muttered tiredly.
Castiel crawled into the bed with him, and laid his head on his chest. “My guide.”
** **
Dean woke slowly, feeling a sense of peace that he hadn't known since he came online at three years old. He snuggled into the warmth of his sentinel and breathed in his minty scent. He wanted to strip Castiel naked and rub himself all over the man.
Unfortunately that wasn't an option, since it felt like everyone in his family were quietly freaking out down stairs in the living room. He sighed and lifted his head to check the time. It was only five in the evening. They had slept most of the day away, which felt great, but it was probably time to face the music.
He gently poked at the angel, who smiled without opening his eyes. “You big faker.”
“It was prudent to feign sleep in order to keep your family from waking you.” Castiel said. “I did not wish for them to interrupt as you needed it.”
“Come on, get up,” Dean poked him again.
“Dean,” Castiel warned.
“What?” Dean asked innocently.
“Do not poke me,” Castiel said.
“Why?” Dean asked, giving him another poke.
“Because I know you are ticklish,” he replied and dug his own fingers under Dean's arm, into his side. Dean gave an undignified squeak and squirmed away. “I give, I give!”
Castiel's grin faded a bit. “They know we're awake.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Dean replied. “Come on.” He stood and stretched feeling more rested than he had in a long time. “Let's go introduce you to the family.”
“I would like that,” he said as he stood. “One day, I will introduce you to my family.”
Dean paused at the door. “Aren't they angels?”
“Yes,” Castiel confirmed.
“That's going to be interesting,” Dean replied.
Once down stairs they were met by what felt like a inquisition. Sam, looking pale and upset. Mary, looking worried, and John standing at his full height, trying to look intimidating. Dean decided to go directly to the point.
“Mom, Dad, Sam,” Dean began. “I'd like you to meet Castiel Novak. My sentinel.”
Mary stood. “I'm very pleased to meet you,” she said. “We all are.”
Sam was silent but he nodded. John didn't look pleased, but he wasn't upset either.
“Dean,” Mary said gently. “I want to tell you that I'm sorry for not listening to you when you said you knew your sentinel wasn't Sam.” She looked down at the floor. “We were wrong and we didn't realize that it was Sam who was having a problem. We were so focused on trying to change your mind, to make you fit into what we wanted, we didn't see that we were missing Sam's own issues.”
“What happened?” Dean knew, but he wanted to hear it.
“There was an accident at school.” John said. “One of Sam's teachers was killed. It turned out she was a member of Guide Watch. Sam admitted that he had been going to meetings with her and a few other students for years.”
“Sam?” Dean turned to him. “Why would you do that?”
“I'm sorry,” Sam said. “I was angry and jealous. I wanted you to stay with us and I knew you were going to leave us when you found what you were looking for.” He had tears in his eyes. “She said she could help me. It was what I wanted to hear.”
“I'm not going to say that it's okay, Sam,” Dean said. “Because it isn't not. Not by a long shot. You've acted like a spoiled brat for years and it hurt me a hell of a lot when you refused to see anything but your own selfish wants.”
Sam's pale skin flushed with shame. “I'm so sorry.”
“Perhaps when you find your own guide, you will understand,” Castiel said. “Until then want you to know that I seriously considered taking Dean away from here. But I know he would worry about all of you.” He glared at the Winchester family. “Know this, Dean is my guide and I will not tolerate any more abuse. I am of the opinion that his obligation toward you ended when he found me, but I respect his choices, unlike you.” He looked directly at Sam, who squirmed and looked away.
“Mom, Dad,” Dean swallowed. “As soon as I'm settled into my classes, I'm going to look for an apartment. Cas and I will be moving in together as soon as possible. Until then, we're going to be living at the Center.”
“When are you leaving?” John asked.
“As soon as I've packed a few days worth of clothes,” Dean replied.
“You're leaving now?” Sam looked shattered. “I said I was sorry!”
“I know,” Dean stepped up to his brother and looked him in the eyes. “I know you are sorry, but that doesn't change the fact that you listened to some xenophobic, radical nut over your own brother. You're going to have to do a lot of work before you regain my trust.”
“Can I call you?” Sam asked.
“You need to give me some time,” Dean replied. He looked at his parents. “I'll call you in a few days.”
“You'll take care of yourself?” Mary asked.
“You know I will,” Dean replied. “I have someone on my side, who will respect me for who I am.”
His entire family winced, but he couldn't take it back. It was true and they all needed to face what they had been doin for so many years.
“We will be waiting for your call,” John said, gruffly.
He went back upstairs and packed his bags, he took a few personal items, but left the rest for later. When he was done he came back down and hugged his parents. He looked to Sam and nodded to him. Sam ran over and hugged him tight, Dean folded his arms around his brother's shoulders. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Sam said through his tears. “I'll make this right, I swear.”
“You better,” Dean replied.
Dean pulled away and stepped to his sentinel's side. They walked out the door and threw his bags into the back of the Impala. As he climbed into the driver's seat Dean realized that he needed to make a few calls.
“Singer.”
“Hey, Bobby.” Dean said cheerily. He pulled the car our onto the main road and headed toward the GSA Center.
“Dean?! Where the hell have you been? I have half the hunting community on alert because you vanished from a secured Men of Letters bunker.”
“I'm sorry I didn't call you, but I was getting to know my sentinel. You know how that can get.” Dean hoped that was enough to derail the tirade.
“You- Wait. What?”
“I found my sentinel,” Dean repeated. “Are you at the Center? Because we're heading there now to get an apartment.”
“Yes, I'm at the Center,” Bobby replied. “Get your butt over here and talk to me. I'll be waiting.”
Dean glanced over at Castiel, who was listening to both sides of the conversation. “We'll be there in a few minutes.”
**
“So you're Castiel?” Bobby asked. Giving the angel a once over. “Everyone's been wondering what could have driven this boy to distraction. I suppose I can see why.”
“Bobby...” Dean was mortified.
“Idjit.” Bobby said affectionately. He turned to Castiel. “I don't suppose you be up to a few test, to see how strong your senses are?”
“That would not be my first choice,” Castiel replied. “If you search your old records for James Novak. Those test scores should due.”
Bobby frowned at him. “Follow me to my office.”
“You actually agreed to get an office?” Dean widened his eyes in shock.
“Karen doesn't want me in the field as much, so yeah,” Bobby replied. “You got a problem with that?”
“I'm cool,” Dean said holding up his hands. The sat down in comfortable chairs in the simply appointed office. Bobby leaning against the front of his desk. “So what do you need?”
“I think it would be prudent to test Dean now that we have established a low level bond,” Castiel said. “He has exhibited an increase in empathy and some telekinetic abilities.”
“Some?” Bobby looked from one man to the other.
“As an angel I have a great deal of power,” Castiel admitted. “Our bond had augmented Dean's Guide abilities to an extent that needs to be examined. I do not wish for there to be anymore accidental expressions of emotional distress. It upsets him greatly.”
“Angel.” Bobby stared at Castiel. “Did he just say he's an angel? A biblical angel?”
“Way to break it to him gently,” Dean groused. “Yes, Cas is an angel. Soldier of God and all that.”
“How the hell are you his guide?”
“It's a long story.” Dean said hoping to not have to go over it again.
“I'm all ears.” Bobby crossed his arms and gave them both an expectant look.
“It began some seventy years ago, when I wished experience humanity,” Castiel said seriously. “I suppressed my grace and found a way to be born as a human child...”
End