AN: Final chapter! Thanks for all the support you've all given me (here and on tumblr) - this was most certainly a labour of love, and I really enjoyed writing it. I hope the ending is satisfying to everyone :))

It only took a minute of flailing for Sam to realise that he was going to have to act fast if they were all going to escape. Looking around in the darkness of the pit they'd landed in – pitch black, aside from the torchlight seeping in through the holes they'd fallen through – he thought he was seeing things when he noticed the glint of metal. He reached out for it: his sword. Not only his sword, but his satchel – how the hell . . . ?

"Sammy!" Dean yelled at him. He glanced over at his brother, and saw him with a sword of his own – he hadn't taken the chance to question what the hell was going on, though. He was just running with it. "Come on!" His brother hissed, before climbing back out of the pit, out onto the gallows again, to make his escape attempt.

Sam cast his gaze around in shock, seeking out his companion – Castiel stared back at him with an identical look of wonder. They simply couldn't believe what was happening: ithey'd been given a chance/i. Saved at the last possible second - and by a idemon/i, no less.
Cas was just glad that their saviour had spared Sam and Dean, too.
"C'mon," Sam echoed his brother's earlier sentiment, pulling himself up and hoisting himself out of the trap door he'd just fallen through. Castiel followed suit.

When they arrived on the wooden platform, they didn't have long to look around and survey the utter chaos: they were thrown straight into the fray. Sam briefly glimpsed Dean fighting off about five officers at once. He'd clearly been itching for a fight – but that was too many, and Sam was sure he was going to be defeated.

But Castiel grabbed his arm, and pointed into the crowd. For a second, Sam was able to see what the former-officer was pointing at: some of the officers were rebelling. They were causing further confusion, while the men who sought to kill the three convicts tried to do their job. Sam didn't need to wonder why some of the officers were causing trouble: he'd seen the dissent in the faces of half the crowd, who wanted to stop the hanging of one of their own. He guessed that, now, they were getting their chance to do something about it.

The rebellious soldiers, while not killing their fellow officers, were getting in the way – and that was all the three escapees needed.

Sam and Castiel leapt down from the platform, making their way to the large metal gate that would be the key to their freedom from the courtyard, and the prison. Casting his gaze up for a precious moment, Sam spied one officers running to the controls for the gate, which were above them: he was going to shut it, and they wouldn't be able to get out.

"Dean!" He yelled, as three soldiers made their way head-first towards him and Cas.
"I'm comin'!" Dean yelled back, his voice strained with concentration. It appeared he'd been able to shake three of the five officers opposing him, but the remaining two were harder to get rid of. However, Sam didn't have long to contemplate this – he had his own opponents now.

He brought his sword up just in time to stay the swoop of the blade of one of the officers, grimacing and gritting his teeth with the effort of stopping the heavy blow. He struck back, pushing the guy to the ground, and turning to the next officer.

He found the other two fighting Cas, who was holding his own against them: he was moving almost too fast to track properly, but Sam was able to intervene easily enough. He slammed into the side of one of the officers, knocking the wind out of him and sending him barrelling comically into the other one, who fell over as well.

Castiel looked up at Sam with eyes wide with the excitement of combat.
"The gate! Come on!" Sam yelled to him over the commotion. He spotted Dean making his way towards the exit, as the gate began to lower slowly.

The two of them rushed forwards: however, in a second, Sam found himself flat on his back, having run into the outstretched arm of a naval officer. Winded, he looked up, blinking rapidly to try and dissipate the shock.
"Sam!" He heard Castiel cry.

The shadow of his assailant loomed over him, blocking out the moon and stars. He was wide-set for an officer – no, scratch that – he was an iadmiral/i. After catching Sam and Dean Winchester, he guessed, anyway.

Zachariah, with his hat knocked to a jaunty angle in the midst of the fight, and his eyes burning with hatred in the torchlight, regarded Sam with utter disgust. He planted one of his boots firmly on Sam's neck, which had barely recovered from the redness left by the rough rope minutes ago; he kicked the younger Winchester's sword out of reach.
"You don't know how much of a ipain/i in my iass/i you've been, Winchester," He hissed, slowly applying more pressure to Sam's neck. The pirate's limbs flailed, fingernails scratching at the leather of the boot. Castiel and Dean tried to make their way towards him, but found their path blocked by numerous officers, each one intent on fighting them to the death.

"Filthy pirate," Zachariah sneered, "You thought you could win, against us? Against ime/i?"
Sam choked, his eyes watering, as he reached out for a sword he knew he wouldn't be able to reach. Zachariah laughed at his struggle.
"Why don't you just give up? You're dead, anyway - all of you are dead – you-" He pressed a little harder, "-and your brother-" A little harder, "-my traitor cousin who you love so much-" Sam let out a grunt as he failed to draw in a breath. "-and all your ifriends/i,"
"Good thing I'm not his friend, then," A gruff voice growled out, just before Zachariah flinched; the admiral looked down, and saw a blade sticking through his right shoulder, before it was abruptly pulled out. His eyes bulged in shock, and he staggered back, unable to pry his eyes away from the red blossoming on his pristine ceremonial uniform. He finally looked up, and saw the younger Winchester rolling away, coughing and spluttering and going for his sword; saw the hangman, his eyes black, holding a bloody sword.

"M-Meg?" Sam asked, looking up at the hangman.
"Don't just sit there, get the fuck out of here!" She shouted at him angrily. He didn't need telling twice. Dean and Castiel had fought off a whole bunch of the soldiers, but the gate was almost shut – Sam ran as quick as he could, employing the tactic of simply dodging officers now, rather than fighting. They had seconds, at most.

"Dean! Cas!" He cried, managing to slide under the gate, before sticking his hands under it, and helping his brother through. The Cas rolled under the great cast-iron bars, barely making it in the nick of time before the thing shut, and there was no longer any escape.
They all stood quickly, looking back through the gate for a moment – there, they saw the hangman. He was trapped on the other side, and Cas was filled with horror that their saviour hadn't been able to escape with them.
"We have to help him!" He cried, turning to the brothers.
"That's iher/i," Meg corrected through iron bars, with a cheeky grin.
"What?!" Castiel asked, looking confused.
"I'm Meg, genius. Decided to switch up and help . . . I made a promise, and for once, I'm keeping it,"
"To who?" Sam asked, frowning, still catching his breath.
"Doesn't matter! Get outta here, back to your precious fucking ship!" The executioner called back, turning around to face the mass of officers looking to detain the person who'd helped the three convicts escape the noose.
"Thank you," Castiel called to her.
"Did I fucking stutter?" She yelled back, entering the fray as if she had nothing to lose. The Winchester brothers glanced at one another, wondering what the hell was going on with the demon, who'd previously been their nemesis – but, in all honesty, they didn't really care at that moment.
"C'mon – we're not out of the woods yet," Dean grunted, snatching up a torch from a holder on the outer wall of the courtyard. They were pretty lucky that nine out of ten able-bodied officers had wanted to view the death of the Winchester brothers, and a fellow officer, or else they'd be swamped with soldiers right now. As it was, the vast majority of the officers were trapped behind the iron gate, and the place was almost deserted – almost. They still had to be extremely careful: citizens would want them dead as much as officers, and they would have to avoid them (if there were any out at that time of night).
". . . Right. Follow me," Sam told him, with just a quick look over his shoulder at the swords that clashed behind them.

It had been a tense half hour: they'd been avoiding prying gazes and wayward sailors the entire time, dodging people who wanted to kill or detain them left, right and centre. But, finally, they'd made it to the place where Sam and Cas had arrived on the island.

The cliffs were sheer – but the rope ladder Sam and Castiel had used to get onto the island was still in place, along with the row-boat they'd moored up at the bottom. It was a miracle that the thing hadn't been smashed up against the cliff-face, in Sam's opinion – but, having lived on the island for over sixteen years and having had a ivery/i dull childhood, Castiel knew this place better than he did. And he'd known a safe area to moor a boat, at least for a couple of hours, having enjoyed sailing as a hobby long before it was his career.

Sam looked back at him and smiled, as they approached the cliff edge. Turning back to where he was going, he almost bumped into Dean's back: his brother had stopped near the edge of the cliff. He was looking out at the moonlit ocean, and grinning like an idiot.

The Impala was out there, her silver sails shining like they were enchanted. Sam probably would have thought that their escape was the result of some kind of magic, if he didn't know any better – but he idid/i know better, and he knew he owed Meg a big fucking thank you, as much as he hated to admit it.

"Who wants to go first?" Dean asked, looking down at the rickety rope ladder doubtfully.
"I will," Castiel answered quickly, a little too eager. The brothers looked at one another, before looking at the former-officer.
"That settles that, then," Dean muttered a little sarcastically.
Before Castiel could go over the edge, Sam grabbed his arm gently, causing him to look back questioningly:
". . . I-" Sam shifted slightly, unable to say what he really wanted to say succinctly. ". . . I'm sorry. For what happened, back there – it was never . . . I didn't want to get you hurt,"
"That's okay, Sam," Castiel replied softly – but his eyes drifted over Sam's face, and to Dean's. The pirate was eyeing him with curiosity and suspicion.

Castiel took Sam's hand in his own, and placed his other hand over it in an intimate gesture of care:
"I'll . . . See you down there, I suppose," Castiel told him. Sam smiled at him, and nodded, before reluctantly letting go.

As they watched Castiel climb down, Sam murmured, "Wonder what that was about,"

Dean didn't reply.

The shouts and excited cries were audible from far away: the three of them listened intently to the yelling of the crew of the Impala, as they rowed out to the huge vessel. Dean beamed up at the faces of the crew leaning out over the edge of the ship: they waved, and gestured, and beckoned the other crew members to come over and see, as they pulled up alongside the ship.

Expertly, with years of practise guiding him, Dean grabbed ahold of the ropes that dangled down from the side of the ship, welcoming him home. He hoisted himself up, the familiar footholds helping him on his way back home. Eventually, Sam and Castiel saw him reach the deck of the ship, and place his feet down on the familiar wood that he'd grown up scrubbing and treading. They heard the mighty roar of the crew . . . More crew than they'd had before. Sam frowned.

"What is it?" Castiel asked, worried for a moment.
". . . There's more people on the ship than when we got here,"
"How?" Cas asked, frowning back at him. Sam shrugged, before standing up.
"You okay to climb up?" Sam asked him.
"Of course," The former officer replied curtly, standing up also.

The two of them made their way up to the deck slightly slower than Dean had – and when they got there, the reception they received was imixed/i, at best.

Initially, there were cheers, as they saw Sam Winchester alive and well back aboard the Impala – but when they saw Cas, their cheers quietened down, and the whispering and hissing started.

"Sam!" Jo cried, running up to him and grabbing hold of him in a hug he clearly hadn't been expecting. Cas eyed the two of them curiously: Jo was holding onto him tightly, and while Sam looked surprised, he was ultimately pleased to see her. She eventually let go, and he patted her shoulder with a smile. Castiel understood that, though Sam didn't have a sister, he'd certainly adopted one during the course of his life, somewhere.

Once he'd pried himself from Jo, Sam cast his gaze around: he froze when his eyes hit Bobby and Rufus, watching him with smiles. Rufus was shaking his head, uttering an amused, "Lucky son of a bitch," While Bobby was most certainly inot/i going to cry.

"Good to see you, boy," He mumbled, clapping Sam on the shoulder.
"But – but how did you . . . ?" Sam asked, a little lost for words as he greeted his surrogate father. He genuinely thought he'd never see him again, Castiel realised – he had to admit, he'd thought the same. But, somehow, Sam's crew had made it out of the prison, as well.

Bobby chuckled, and looked over his shoulder towards, the cabin.
"You can thank iher/i for that," The old sailor answered, somewhat cryptically. Sam and Cas were about to make their way to the cabin, when a voice sounded from the crowd of gathered sailors:

"We're just gonna let him stay?" The question came from one of the sailors they'd gathered from Covenant – a young woman called Tracy Bell. The crowd fell silent, at that: the vast majority of them were looking at Castiel. Suddenly, Sam understood Castiel's apprehension: the reason he'd wanted to climb down the rope ladder was because he thought they'd leave him behind. The reason he'd seemed quiet on the journey there was that he feared rejection.

The tension between him and Dean was caused by the fact they didn't trust one another; the fact that the crew were very unlikely to just accept his presence. Sam was saddened by the fact that not everyone could see, could iexperience/i how loyal and just Castiel was; what a good ally, and a good friend.

Sam stepped in front of Castiel, casting a warning glance at anyone staring at him at that moment. It was clear, to the former officer, that Sam was willing to lay down his life to defend him. His heart fluttered in his chest, as Sam growled,
"He's staying,"
"I thought he was gonna leave after the escape? . . . Captain? You can't seriously trust him?" Tracy asked, addressing her question to Dean, who'd been avidly discussing the new crew with Jo. He turned around, and looked at Tracy, before allowing his eyes to slide over to the former officer – or what he could see of him. He was mainly obscured by the body of his stubborn little brother.

"He was sentenced to die," Dean told them all; they continued to eye the officer critically, despite the best efforts of the first mate. "He can't go back, or they'll kill him. He helped us, so we're not sending him back," Dean affirmed.
"But that doesn't mean he has to stay," Rufus pointed out. Dean looked at him for a moment, nodding slightly in acceptance of his point. He looked over at Sam again: his little brother's eyes begged him not to kick Castiel out. It was like the guy was a stray puppy – not a full-grown man, who used to be dead-set on killing all of them.

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face – God, he was tired. But this had to be dealt with now. He cleared his throat.

"I trust my brother's judgement," He told his crew. "This guy . . . He saved his life, more than once. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here. Half of you probably wouldn't be here, either," Dean turned to Sam, looking him in the eye and trusting him completely: "You think he deserves to stay, Sammy?"

Castiel gripped one of Sam's shoulders tightly in the brief silence that followed.
"More than anything, Dean," Sam replied – and he just sounded so earnest, so sure, that Castiel could feel his heart swell in his chest at the thought of all that trust, all that love, reserved for him - especially in a man as tough as Sam Winchester.
"Then he stays," Dean decreed.

"Anyone who disagrees, feel free to follow Gordon," Jo told Tracy in a low voice. "He didn't trust Sam's judgement, and now he's a spy for ithem/i," She indicated the looming port of St. Mary's with the last word.

Tracy looked at Castiel a moment more, before nodding. Sam knew, then, that while they might have some problems in the days to come, they could work it out. Castiel had earned their respect, now – and that was half the battle.

Sam turned to follow Castiel into the cabin, but found a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see who it was, and found Dean staring back at him.
"You better be right about this guy, Sammy," He mumbled.
"I am, Dean," Sam vowed, and turned back to go to the cabin again. But Dean didn't let go.
"Hey," He addressed Sam again; the younger brother turned back once more, a confused expression on his face. ". . . You got a little something of mine, there, buddy,"

Dean was staring at his neck – at the amulet. Sam could have sworn that his heart stopped.

Not only had Dean noticed the amulet – but he wanted it back.
"Dean?" He whispered, and bit his lip, trying to stay the flow of emotional words that threatened to pour from his lips at that moment. Dean smiled at him, and that was when he knew: he might not have gotten a thank-you before for putting his life in danger to save his brother, but he was getting that thank-you now.

He took off the amulet, and handed it to Dean, who put it on. He gave Sam another smile, before turning away and going back to his work – which, as a Captain, was never done.

When Sam turned back to Castiel, he was beaming at him.
"I hoped I would be able to help you hand that amulet over," The former officer told the pirate.
"You did, Cas," Sam replied, sniffing and clearing his throat. "You did,"

Cas smiled, and turned away, heading to the cabin.

As they made their way there, Sam cast his thoughts about the amulet away, and thought about what Bobby had said: he'd referenced a ishe/i when explaining how the crew had managed to escape. It couldn't be Meg – well, unless she'd ireally/i gotten around in the past day or so. He imagined she'd been too busy staging their escape – ifor some reason/i. He wondered, again, why she'd chosen to help them. She'd spoken about a promise – but certainly not one she'd made to him, or to Cas.

For the second time in as many hours, Sam almost walked into someone stood stock-still in front of him, too distracted by his own thoughts. Cas had stopped in the doorway to the room traditionally used to house the sick or injured aboard the Impala. Sam looked over Cas' shoulder, and frowned at the strange scene he saw.

"She'll be back," A soft, far-away voice told them, it's owner not looking up. "She'll be back, soon,"

The first thing Sam saw was a woman he didn't recognise: she had fiery red hair, and wore an expensive-looking red dress. She was sat on a chair beside one of the old beds used for convalescing crew members, her elbows on her knees, with her chin resting on her clasped-together hands. She was beautiful, undoubtedly – but, strangely enough, she seemed completely transfixed on the person that lay before her.

Or, more accurately, the ibody/i. It was Meg's vessel.

The woman stared down at the body that used to house the demon: it was completely still, and undoubtedly dead, with pasty grey skin. But the way she stared indicated that she thought it was alive - or she thought it would spring back to life, at any moment.

Even stranger was her effect on Castiel, who Sam had rarely seen display much emotion, except in relation to himself (be that positive, or negative.
"Anna?!" Cas breathed in shock, grabbing hold of Sam's arm for support. ". . . What – what are-"

The woman sat up immediately, her gaze drawn from the body on the bed, and her eyes wide.
"Castiel?!" She cried, and leapt up immediately.

Sam watched as the two of them shared a tender moment, hugging tightly in a way similar to Jo had hugged him earlier – there was no doubt that they were siblings, and not friends, or lovers. The way they moved, the way they spoke . . . They were similar, in a way that Sam had trouble putting into words. They didn't even particularly look like one another: but they were, in some strange way, the same.

"Sam – Sam, this is my sister, Anna," Cas introduced her, beaming at her, and looking between her and Sam. "Anna, this is Sam, he's-"
"The first mate and your suitor. I know, Castiel. I've been informed," She teased gently. Castiel looked a little taken aback at the use of the word 'suitor', Sam chuckled, and extended a hand to her. She took it, smiling up at him as she shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Sam. I've read all about you,"
". . . You have?" He asked, his smile faltering slightly as he considered what she might have read.
"Sure I have! . . . The Winchesters," She sighed reverently, clearly a fan. "My family could never catch you - and if they couldn't get you now, I doubt they ever will," She commented, as they let go of one another's hands. Sam placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder.
"I hope not," Sam agreed. He looked past her, and at Meg's vessel. Castiel followed his gaze, and suddenly remembered the strange situation he'd found his sister in – up until that point, he'd just been excited that she was there. He'd been planning on visiting her, maybe getting her away from the dull, subservient life she'd been condemned to – but life had gotten in the way of that plan, inevitably.

". . . Anna, what's going on here?" Castiel asked her, frowning a little, and indicating the body. Anna looked back at Meg's vessel, smiling sadly, and going to sit back down at her side.
"I'm waiting for Meg to get back," She replied.
". . . You know Meg?" Sam asked, a little caught off-guard.
"Yes," Anna replied simply.
"The demon, Meg?" Sam clarified, not believing it. When would Anna have met Meg?!
"Yes. The two of us are, uh . . . Well-acquainted," Anna answered carefully.

Sam hid a smirk at the face Castiel pulled when she said that.

"You – you – a idemon/i?" Castiel spluttered.
"You're hardly in a position to talk, brother," She retorted, nodding at Sam. ". . . No offense, Sam, but you're not exactly the fair young maiden our parents wished for Castiel to wed," She pointed out.
"Neither is that," Castiel pointed at the body incredulously.
"-none taken, by the way," Sam added, holding up his hands.
"When did you even meet her?" Castiel asked.
"About eight years ago – do you remember when I ran away, to Covenant?"
"How could I forget?" Castiel answered, shaking his head, but unable to stop a smile from spreading across his face.

"Meg and I . . . Spent a lot of time together, in those couple of weeks. I knew what she was from the start, but I didn't care," Anna reminisced fondly.

Sam glanced at Castiel, raising his eyebrows for a moment, with a grin. Castiel smiled back, still listening to Anna's story, which she told while holding the body's hand; tenderly, she stroked a thumb across Meg's vessel's knuckles.

"When I was taken away . . . We promised to find each other, again. She said she'd join a crew, and get to St. Mary's one day to rescue me . . . Imagine my surprise when that day was today.
"I've had a bag packed for eight years – every day I imagined it would be that day, but not til today did my hoping actually pay off. She came to me – not as her, but as one of the handmaidens in my fiancé's house. She needed help releasing your crew – so I helped them escape to here,"

She paused, sighing and brushing an errant hair from Meg's vessel's forehead. "She said she'd be back,"
". . . Anna, she's a demon, "Sam began gently, "–they aren't exactly known for their-"

Suddenly, movement around their feet caused Sam and Castiel to look down: a pervasive black smoke gathered just above the floor, causing them to grip one another tightly by the arm; Anna stood up, gasping in excitement as she watched the smoke enter the room through the crack beneath the door, and rise up. It curled its way towards the empty vessel, prying its lips open and flooding the body once more. The effect was immediate: the grey pallor of death was replaced with Meg's usual pale skin, with a hint of rosiness in the cheeks.

Meg sat up suddenly, blinking and gasping.
"Oh, great. You two. Just what I want to see after my last vessel got hacked to pieces saving your asses," She sniped. Her first sight when back in her usual vessel being Sam and Cas clearly wasn't to her liking.
"Meg," Anna greeted her. The demon turned to look at her, blinking back black eyes and grinning.
"Told you I'd be back, Red. I'd have to be crazy to pass up the chance to rip another one of your bodices,"

Anna hit her playfully on the shoulder. Castiel paled slightly.
"Uh – c'mon, Cas. Time to go," Sam replied, leading Cas away by the arm.
"See ya later, boys," Meg called after them, her smile just this side of maniacal. They shut the door, and heard the clunk of a lock behind them, along with giggling that Castiel in particular didn't want to think about.

"Huh . . . Well, I wouldn't have bet on that happening," Sam told Castiel, as they walked out onto the deck.
"I would not have bet on a lot of things that have happened in my life, recently," Castiel replied, taking Sam's hand. The pirate looked down at their interlocked fingers, and up to Cas' face: a slow smile spread out across it, as they made their way to the side of the ship. Sam smiled too, and looked out across the moonlit sea.

"So . . . You're gonna stay, then?" Sam asked, as they gazed at the churning waves that would take them far, far away.
"If you will have me, then yes," Castiel replied, looking up at Sam; the pirate looked back at him, reading his face for any trace of a lie, or reluctance. He found nothing of the sort: just a hopeful expression, as Cas sought acceptance.
"Of course I will," Sam murmured back. Castiel looked out at the sea, and sighed.

"I suppose this makes me a pirate," He realised. Sam chuckled to himself – the thought of the man who'd not too long ago threatened to kill him giving up his title, opposing His Majesty's Royal Navy and becoming a pirate for ihim/i was more than a little amusing. And amazing.
"I guess it does," Sam replied. He brought Castiel's hand up to his mouth, and planted a kiss on it, savouring the tranquil moment of privacy between them: much of the crew had gone to bed, and the others were occupied with their various tasks.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Castiel asked him, removing his hand from Sam's, and snaking a hand around Sam's waist, pulling him into his side.
"Sure," Sam whispered.
"Even though I always thought it was wrong, and bad, I . . . I always thought it would be something of an adventure, to be a pirate," He admitted. Sam tilted his head down, an amused expression on his face for a moment, as he regarded Castiel.
"Sure, the life is pretty good," Sam confirmed, and pressed a kiss to Cas' head. ". . . But it's best if you can share it with someone you love,"

Castiel looked up at him when he heard that: his eyes were wide, the blue reflecting the pale moonlight in a way that made it look as if they were lit from within, emanating a celestial light that made Sam feel pure, and cleansed, and just so iright/i that it made his heart ache in his chest.

It had been a long journey: finding and rescuing Dean had been hard, but it had been worth it, for both of them. Whether it was Sam finding Dean, and the ship he'd grown up on, or Castiel finding his own sister, and someone with which to share mutual love and admiration in Sam . . . They'd both found their way home, in the end.

I didn't matter if the horizon they sought was north, south, east or west, they would never stray far from home, as long as they were together.

That's all, folks! Thanks for reading :))