"Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be if we met at midnight in the hanging tree." –James Newton Howard (From the Hunger Games)

Dean Winchester cannot remember a time when his family wasn't farmers. Their small farm is about one mile from the town they provide for and their amber fields of grains stretch for miles. Their farmhouse is old and it creaks like an old bag of bones when the winter air sneaks in through the cracks and tortures it so. Their farmhouse is painted red with white shutters and a small rickety door that shuts tight and locks securely. The windows have spider webs in their corners and the paint is peeling and the panes are a bit cloudy, but they're still solid and secure as well. Dean's little brother Sam who is about twelve years of age is sleeping soundly in his bed nearby in their shared bedroom. His mousy brown hair is falling into his closed eyes and he is dreaming. Dean can tell based on his even breathing. Dean gets up to tuck the covers better around Sam. Their bedroom is on the first floor so he knows how cold it gets, especially at night.

Dean's the older brother. He is sixteen years old and he has been told from the day he was old enough to that he had to take care of his little brother. His father John tends to the fields most every day and the others he spends in town trying to sell their wares. His mother Mary stays at home and cooks and cleans the house. She does the sewing and the laundry and the general housework. Dean is left in charge of keeping Sam from wandering too far from the farm and tending to his needs. He works in the fields sometimes helping his father package the wheat and tie the strings until his hands are bleeding from pulling them so tight. His father's hands are cut too and together they manage to push the tractor back to where it belongs after the old thing overheats again for the fifth time that week. John claims he'll get it fixed. He's been saying that for two years.

Every night it's a nicely cooked dinner by Mary and bedtime by nine. That's when the sun goes down and when the children are not allowed to leave the house. Dean's been told the stories of the ghosts that dance around at night and seek only to harm others. And he's passed these tales on to Sam, who the first time he was told them, cried the entire night from fright. He's been told of the murderers and the bad men that were hanged in the old oak tree in the field across from his family's farm and how their spirits were never going to rest. Dean swears the mist that gathers outside in the fields is them dancing in circles looking for their redemption or perhaps their next victim. He knows he has to be careful. Even though the doors and windows lock securely he is always careful.

-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

Dean is twenty three when he first sees the man. He happens to be reading in bed while Sam is soundly sleeping once again in the bed next to him. He is turned away from the lamp that Dean has turned on. Dean is unable to tear his eyes off of the novel in his hands until something calls to him. It's not a voice, but more of a longing, an emotion that is not his own. Dean gets up from the bed and looks out window. The pane is foggy so he has to rub at it a moment before he can see clearly. Dean sees him in the field, far out and unmoving. Dean wonders why he is just standing there and not going anywhere. Dean only moves when the man's head turns towards his direction and Dean ducks and hides. He is not afraid though, but more embarrassed that he was caught staring. His father told him long ago that wandering travelers often traveled through the fields and that Dean was to pay no mind to them. This one seems different though. When Dean finally musters up the courage to look again the man is gone without a trace.

-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

Every night when the moon is shining upon the amber grains and the breeze is blowing them ever so slightly back and forth Dean sees the man. And every time the man looks back at him. Dean can't help but feel this sense of curiosity. If the man were a traveler he'd have moved on by now? Why isn't he moving on? Dean ponders these questions every night when he stares upon this enigma of a man that he finds himself so drawn to and he doesn't quite know why. One night though, Dean gets brave and ventures beyond the secure and locked door to the outside. He wears the jeans and the shirt he has changed into and pulls the jacket he has brought to keep warm close to his body for the breeze is cold. He looks at the man again and is surprised to see that he appears to be about the same age as Dean. Dean is still far away so he cannot see the intimate details of the man's face, but from what he can see the man has black hair and is wearing a long tan trench coat. He is skinny and pale, but not so skinny so that he is unhealthy. Dean manages to move his feet so that he goes closer to the man and the breeze hugs him like a gentle grandmother as he makes his way to where the man is standing.

Upon closer inspection Dean sees that the man has stubble on his face matching the color of his hair and his eyes are as blue as the river water from the stream that runs near Dean's family's farm. He is also smiling at Dean.

"You stare at me from your window every night," the man says. "Do not think I do not see you."

"I'm sorry," Dean apologizes, he doesn't know what for, but he feels the need to. "I don't mean to disturb you."

"You are doing no such thing," the man replies and looks up at the shining white moon in the cloudy sky. "I just did not expect another soul to be up at midnight that is all."

"I can't help but stare at the man on my father's property," Dean says, staring at the man who now looks back and Dean feels a shiver go up his spine. He doesn't know why, but he senses it's from the man's intoxicating stare. "You're trespassing you know."

"I live nearby," the man now looks up to the left of them and Dean doesn't know how he could've missed what stands there. It's the oak tree that his father's told him about. "Quite a sad sight is it not?"

From the tree still hang the nooses that were used many years before. Some are still covered in dead man's blood and they swing back and forth in the breeze eerily. The dirt underneath of the tree is packed tightly, but there are slight bumps and dips.

"What is your name?" the man asks Dean.

"You had to bring up such an eerie topic before asking that?" Dean replies, giving the man a look.

"I am simply making an observation," the man says. "Now, your name?"

"My name is Dean Winchester." Dean doesn't know why his breath catches in his throat at the man's stare again. His palms are starting to sweat a bit and his legs feel weak. There's this yearning in his heart that he hasn't ever felt before. This is a new emotion that Dean is not familiar with and strangely enough there is a part of him that likes it.

"I like it," the man says. "My name is Castiel Novak."

"That's a unique name." Dean stammers a bit and swallows hard as Castiel leans against the trunk of the oak tree and one of the nooses makes a shadow that seems as though he is the one hanged. Castiel's eyes seem to get brighter too, but maybe it's just Dean's imagination.

"We should meet again," Castiel propositions. "The same time though. I prefer the world when the rest of it is asleep or six feet under."

"Uh," Dean swallows hard again and the shiver runs through him again. Something is telling him to say no, but the stronger and more curious half of him is saying to accept.

"That last part was simply a joke my friend," Castiel smirks. "Do not be so scared."

"Fine," Dean nods. "We can meet up again."

"Excellent," Castiel gets off of the tree's trunk and Dean starts to walk back to the farmhouse. "Oh and Dean. I look forward to seeing you again."

Dean takes off back to the farmhouse and locks the door again behind him after shutting it carefully so that no one will know he was gone. When he reaches his and Sam's bedroom again the light is still on and thankfully Sam is still asleep. Dean gets into bed after tossing his jacket aside and giving one last look out the window. The midnight hour has passed and the man, Castiel, is gone. Dean doesn't sleep that night but even so he turns the light out and pulls the covers over his head.

-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

Their meeting goes as planned except for this time Castiel is not on the ground, but rather in the air. He is sitting on one of the tree branches and looking down at Dean. He motions for Dean to climb up to greet him and against Dean's better judgment he does. He sits with Castiel in the tree and the pair does not utter a single word until the breeze stops blowing. The nooses swing back and forth again and Dean feels this twinge of regret springing up into his stomach. Castiel's smile though pushes it away immediately. And as Castiel takes Dean's hand in his and his other hand ghosts across Dean's cheek Dean feels this warmth overtaking him and he too smiles.

Dean doesn't remember falling from the branch. He does remember hanging on for dear life after being pushed downward. He remembers Castiel staring at him with a sinister smirk and his beautiful blue eyes being the last thing he sees before his fingers are kicked and he's plummeting. Dean doesn't feel his chin connecting with one of the nooses and he certainly doesn't feel his neck snapping in two. He doesn't see the reactions of his family when they find him the next day at dawn. He doesn't hear his mother's cries and he doesn't see his brother's tears. He doesn't hear his father's sighs either. The sighs springing from the fact that Dean should've listened to him. He doesn't hear or see or feel anything anymore. Dean is dead.

-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

Midnight rolls around again and the air is clear and crisp. Fall is coming ever closer and her hands are reaching out everywhere. The moon is shining on an oak tree in an amber grain field and Dean Winchester is standing under it facing Castiel Novak.

He remembers one story in particular that his father told him about the ghosts. It was the story of a man who was hanged in the oak tree long before Dean and Sam were born for the murders of over fifty men and women. His name was Castiel Novak and he is the man standing before Dean. Dean's murder gives him a body count of fifty six.

Castiel looks up at where Dean's body was dangling before his family removed it and buried it.

"Right next to mine," Castiel smirks and motions to two nooses right next to one another on a branch two below the one Dean and him had been sitting on the night before. "How nice."

"You tricked me." Dean exclaims and glares.

"Wasn't it worth it though?" Castiel chuckles.

Reviews are appreciated and I apologize for the nightmares I induce.

Writing Evil!Cas and Naïve!Dean was fun. I kept Leviathan Cas in mind when typing this and had The Hanging Tree on repeat.