For the rest of the day, Sam was torn between feeling giddy with happiness and anticipation, and terrified dread. He tried to tell himself that Dean was well trained, that he had lots of experience with these dangerous situations, but he couldn't drown out the voice that said that for most of that experience Dean had hunted with the King. Dean might be too used to having a partner, having someone to watch his back.

Sam tried to continue reading, wanting to have something to show for the time that Dean was away, but he couldn't concentrate on anything it seemed. He was staring off into space, his mind like a runaway horse-carriage imagining one scenario after another that led to Dean's death, when Jo startled him out of his seat.

Jo's manner was clipped as she informed him that lunch was on the table. Sam supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised. He had kissed Dean in full view of anyone who was looking. Whether the girl had had any chance with the Prince didn't actually matter. Until Sam had come, there had been no one else to distract Dean's attention from her.

Sam entered the kitchen to see two other faces that were smug as they watched him enter. He knew that he looked frazzled and nerve-wracked, and he was beginning to wonder exactly how much Ellen and Henrickson actually knew about what went on in the castle.

"So, loverboy," Henrickson began as soon as Sam was seated and served. "That was quite the display earlier, a very romantic send off for your valiant knight."

Ellen started to snicker into her stew, and Sam felt completely mortified, dropping his eyes to the tabletop as his face heated. He could hear Jo shifting in her seat, obviously uncomfortable as well.

Finally, Sam managed to say something in his defense, "I didn't mean it like that. I just…"

"Now, no need to explain, dear. It was very sweet. I think that Dean needs someone like you."

That got Sam to look up. "What do you mean someone like me?"

"Nothing, just that you obviously care for him and he obviously cares for you. You've been able to get him to open up more than he has in years."

Sam couldn't help a little smile breaking out on his face at her comments. Jo finished her lunch quickly and excused herself to Ellen's obvious irritation.

Sam headed back to the library, dinner, and then bed in a daze. He couldn't even sleep. He had no idea when Dean usually got back, could only imagine that most of the 'action' took place at night and thus Dean wouldn't be back til morning. Maybe it would even take more than one day. But still Sam lay in that perfectly comfortable bed, listening for the sound of the bell outside the gate that would signal Dean's return in one piece.

The next day Sam headed down for breakfast more miserable than the day before if possible. As he sat at the table, he debated eating at all. That's when he heard it. The bell.

For a moment, he was so relieved, his strength left him. His legs felt limp and unable to support his weight if he attempted to stand. He made it to the outside door to see Dean, off his horse, striding towards the castle as he removed his helmet. And he seemed unharmed.

Sam let Dean come to him, seeing as he was still holding onto the door for support. Dean had a big, satisfied grin on his face.

"What, no big kiss hello? You only like me when I'm striding into danger?"

Sam was conflicted about whether he would rather hit or kiss the other man, but the decision was taken out of his hands when Dean reached for him and gave him a quick kiss. A kiss far too quick, Sam thought, considering what he had been through since Dean had left.

Dean moved past Sam into the kitchen, inclining his head in greeting to Ellen and Jo who had gathered there. Jo took one look at him and bolted from the room. Dean only sighed in response.

Ellen too looked regretful about the situation but both knew that there was nothing to be done about it. Jo would have had to get over her little crush eventually.

Sam followed after Dean as he went into the front room. Dean was so tired that it took him a moment to realize that the younger man was following him.

"I'm just going to go take this armor off and take a bath, maybe a nap."

"Need some help?"

Dean looked at Sam with an apologetic smile. He knew that Sam was attracted to him, but he didn't want to rush into this. Sam was partially reacting to Dean being in danger. "I don't think so this time. But after I've bathed, I'll meet you in the library?"

Sam nodded, half grateful that Dean had refused his offer and half disappointed. He didn't know what he was ready for, he only knew that he wanted to be near the other man.

Ellen walked past then, carrying buckets of hot water. With a last smile, Dean clanked his way upstairs.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

An hour or two later, during which Sam had mostly contemplated exactly what he had previously offered instead of read, Dean entered the library.

Sam jumped up to meet him, grabbing the smaller man and pulling him in for another, more thorough kiss. Dean responded right from the beginning and carefully took control of the kiss, slowing Sam's frantic pace, gentling Sam's desperation. Soon the kiss was perfect, slick mouths slotting together naturally. Dean ran his tongue along Sam's bottom lip, surprised when Sam sucked his tongue in with fervor.

Sam had one hand on Dean's lower back keeping them pressed together, but Dean put his hands on Sam's chest and after a good, long moment, he pushed the taller man away.

"Sam, I know you're all eager and virginal and everything, but make sure that you want this."

Sam's quick answer, "I do," made Dean smile. But he couldn't let it go at that.

"Are you sure? I'm not an easy person to get along with, and I won't be able to tell you everything."

Sam smiled big and broad, his dimples coming out in full force. He knew absolutely that he wanted this man in front of him, Dean, the Prince. His answer was pulling Dean back to him for another kiss.

This time when Dean pulled away it was for a jaw-popping yawn.

"Sorry, long night last night. I didn't get any sleep."

Sam couldn't help running a hand down the side of Dean's beautiful face, reveling in the privilege to touch when he wanted to. He grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him over to sit on the couch. "Tell me about it?" he asked shyly.

Dean smiled and settled himself back against the couch and Sam's side. He told the story with obvious pride and satisfaction at what he had accomplished.

And so the relationship between the hunter and the bookworm began. They took things slowly. Sam still spent most of his time in the library reading through tome after tome, but Dean would come in occasionally and tell Sam stories of supernatural creatures that he had fought. Sometimes he would bring in magical objects, telling Sam what they did and how they were acquired.

Dean showed Sam a rabbit's foot that brought luck while you had it, but once you lost it, you experienced bad luck that eventually led to your death. He showed Sam a glass pumpkin that Dean said could be transformed into a carriage. He showed Sam different charms that would call supernatural creatures or protect you from supernatural creatures.

Sometimes Dean would take him riding and they would stop in the same clearing as before. They would picnic and lay on their backs and talk. They spent a lot of time making out there, the long lengths of their bodies pressed tightly together, their arousal evident. But neither of them made a move to do something about it. Sam still blushed knowing that his erection was visible to Dean so the older man figured that Sam wasn't ready.

Jo wasn't happy with the developments as she clearly showed every time they sat down to take a meal together. Ellen didn't help since she seemed to be only too happy to see Sam and Dean together and delighted in teasing the two men and making them blush.

Dean tried to make it up to the younger girl, trying to pay particular attention to her during meals. He asked after her new dress, offered to buy her other things, listened intently when she complained about chores. Most of the time it worked and Jo would flirt as before, but if Sam and Dean even shared a glance, it would set her off sulking again.

Dean still spent time by himself, doing Sam didn't know what, still went into the west wing and wouldn't talk about his father. But no matter what they had done during the day whether they had spent lots of time together that day or none at all, Dean would join Sam on the couch in the library after dinner and they would talk and kiss.

It had been going on two weeks, two weeks in which Sam had forgotten that anything bad could befall them. He was sitting in the library that morning when he heard the now-hated sound of clanking armor against the stone steps. Standing, he rushed out in the front room.

"Dean, what are you…?"

Dean looked at the younger man with apologetic eyes, but didn't answer. They both knew exactly why Dean would be wearing armor.

"You didn't tell me," Sam accused. "What is it?"

Dean sighed. "I didn't want to worry you. It's nothing. I'll be fine. You'll see."

"Don't do that. What is it?"

Dean couldn't even look him in the eyes when he finally answered. "It's a werewolf."

Though Dean didn't look up, he saw from Sam's body that the man flinched upon hearing his answer. He saw Sam clench his hands into fists down at his sides. But what could he say? He had to go. He had warned Sam.

When he finally did look up, it was to see a fierce, determined expression on Sam's face. "Ok. You're going to go no matter what I say." And to be honest, Sam didn't want to deprive the other man of something that obviously brought the man satisfaction and seemed to be tied to Dean's conception of his self-worth.

"But you are going to come back, you hear me? And when you do, you're going to start training me. I want to come with you. I want to be there for you."

Dean's breath hitched, but it didn't matter because Sam was drawing him, armor and all, into an embrace. For the first time since his mother's death, Dean felt safe, wanted, cared for as he was wrapped in strong arms. He still had a job to do and it would no doubt be dangerous, but he had something to come home.

Dean turned his head, his mouth finding Sam's own and neither cared about the 'romantic sendoff' that they had been teased about before.

Dean took a moment to catch his breath, leaning his head on Sam's shoulder and Sam took the opportunity to lean down and speak into the other man's ear.

"And if that's not enough encouragement, I will definitely be spending the night in your bed when you get back."

Dean lifted his head and saw that the statement was serious in Sam's earnest expression. Dean's face broke into a smile, that big smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes and was brighter than the sun. "Is this going to become a habit? Teasing me before a job? Because if it is, I'm not sure you can come. It'll be too distracting."

Sam laughed. He would have punched Dean except that it would only be his own hand that would get hurt on that armor. He settled instead for palming Dean's face, bringing their lips together for one more kiss.

Both of their eyes were amused but serious as they parted and then Dean walked away. Sam didn't follow this time. Instead he went back to the library and began to worry and wait.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was five days in all. Five days in which Sam wandered around the castle like a ghost. None of the other servants were much better. Sam figured that even if they didn't know the exact nature of Dean's excursions, they knew that they were dangerous and so they were all worried, all quiet at mealtimes.

It was past lunch when the bell finally rang on the fifth day. Sam raced out the door, right behind Henrickson.

He was thankful to see that Dean still swung off his steed with grace, but as the Prince walked toward the castle, Sam could see that Dean was limping. Sam ran over to the injured man, trying to grip Dean's armored arm to help him, but Dean just shrugged him off.

Removing the helmet, the first words out of Dean's mouth were, "I'm alright. It's nothing, just a scratch. It got my leg in the armor's joint."

Sam barely heard the words because what he saw when the helmet was removed was Dean's cheek, bruised. His hand went up automatically to brush against the multi-colored skin.

"And I hit my head, ok?"

This time Sam didn't offer to help, he simply followed Dean up the stairs and into the dark green room. Ellen and Jo were up shortly with the hot water.

"Can I help?" Sam asked, but he should have known that Dean would be too stubborn.

"I got it." And Dean did. He removed the armor carefully, setting it aside to clean later. The tunic and tights underneath were sweaty and dirty and Sam could clearly see the wound and dried blood on the right leg.

"Do you need help in the bath?"

"No, no. I'll be out in a minute."

Sam waited as Dean moved into the bathroom. He was alone in Dean's room but as he looked around there didn't seem to be anything personal to it. The supernatural books were apparently kept somewhere else. Dean's weapons were housed in the armory where Dean's armor would be returned to later. There was nothing in it of any interest, no letters, no portraits, no decoration at all.

He had pulled back the comforter and was sitting on the plush bed when Dean returned wearing a thin robe. "Do you need something for your leg?"

"I fixed it up in the bathroom."

Dean grimaced as he clambered onto the bed beside Sam. Though clean, Sam could still see dark smudges underneath Dean's eyes showing his fatigue.

"I should let you rest," Sam said quietly.

"No," Dean's voice was equally quiet. "Stay with me." With those words, Dean was pulling Sam down with him by the shoulder.

They lay on their sides facing one another. Dean's bruised right cheek was up and Sam's hand went there again. Dean caught it and brought it to his lips. He looked at Sam with happiness in his eyes as he dropped Sam's hand in favor of gripping the back of Sam's head, pulling them together for their first kiss since he had returned.

The kiss was easy, relief and contentment and delight passing between them. When Dean deepened the kiss, licking inside Sam's mouth, his hand also moved over the muscles in Sam's chest. Slowly that hand moved down towards Sam's now insistent erection.

Pulling back, Sam caught the wandering hand. "Aren't you tired?"

"Not too tired for this. If you're not ready, Sam, it's ok. We can just take a nap."

Sam was ready. He wanted Dean, wanting to feel naked skin against his own, instead of the feel of his own hand alone at night in his bed with thoughts of naked skin. And napping curled up with Dean, naked, after sex sounded even better.

"I do want to. Now if you're up for it."

Dean smirked. Sam chuckled, saying, "You know what I mean."

When they kissed again, Dean's hands went immediately to Sam's waist, unknotting the leather belt he wore and then pushing at the tunic.

"Off," Dean gasped. Sam immediately complied, and then actually moaned as he felt the first touch of calloused hands on his skin. He wanted Dean naked now.

Moving on instinct, the instinct to get as close to the other man as possible, Sam rolled on top of Dean. The robe Dean was wearing easily parted for his hands, revealing Dean's nude body to his greedy eyes.

Sam gasped, he couldn't help himself at the sight of pale skin and hard muscles, at the sight of dark wiry hair and a blood-filled cock, so similar and yet so different from his own. And then there were the scars, some were tiny, some long, some faded, some still red and angry, Sam's hands began to trace them, a history of Dean's life printed indelibly on skin.

And there would be one more mark, the deep slash to Dean's thigh now visible as was the thread that Dean had closed it with. As Sam moved further down on Dean's body, Dean sat up, shrugging the robe off his shoulders and pulling Sam in for a heated kiss, a kiss that rekindled their ardor.

But it was quick, only a moment before Dean pulling back to say, "Sam, pants."

Sam grinned at Dean's impatience and quickly rolled off to Dean's side, lying on his back to shimmy out of his own tights. Dean rolled to his side, to watch. He wanted to climb on top of that lean length of olive skin, but he didn't want to reopen his leg wound by kneeling over Sam. Blood was not conducive to the atmosphere of making love.

But he needn't have worried because Sam was rolling back on top of him, eager as ever. "God, Dean," Sam groaned as Dean parted his legs, letting Sam's body slip between them, their dicks then coming into heated contact.

Again, Sam was running on instinct, undulating his long body against Dean's, thrusting against the smooth skin of Dean's hip and loving the feel of Dean's own cock against his belly. Their bodies fit together as easily as their lips, slick with sweat and saliva.

"Ungh, Dean, what do I do? God, I want you…"

It took a moment for Dean to concentrate enough to tell Sam. "Get the…there's a jar in the drawer of the bedside table there."

Reluctantly, Sam moved away from Dean's writhing form to reach the drawer. He sat back on his heels, his attention torn between Dean's heaving chest beneath him and the contents of the jar, a salve of some kind.

"Put some on your fingers, yeah, the fingers of one hand." Then Dean guided the hand between his legs where they were spread with his feet planted on the bed, back behind his balls to his entrance.

"Push one in, ahhh," Dean moaned as Sam was quick to follow instructions. Sam watched as Dean tossed his head to the side on the pillow, his body already moving to take more of his finger in, undulating in pleasure.

"My God," Sam breathed out, taken aback at the sight before him. "My cock is going in there?"

Dean's voice was thin and gruff when he answered, "Yes."

"But it's so tight." Sam's voice held his awe.

"That's why your fingers stretch it first. Crook your finger forward a little bit, like that…" Dean broke off with an inarticulate, animalistic sound somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

"What? Did I…"

"Good, you're good. There's a spot inside that feels amazing when you…"

But a wicked grin had taken over Sam's face as understanding dawned, and he crooked his finger again, keeping the pressure against that spot as Dean whined and cried out and thrashed. Sam watched fascinated as Dean's cock turned maroon in color and leaked pearlescent drops of fluid that slowly made their way down his shaft.

"Stop, ngh, stop or I'm going to cum before we get anywhere," Dean's voice was wrecked as he spoke.

Sam didn't stop grinning but he did stop pressing on that spot. Very useful information that, he thought. He added the second finger, and Dean returned to panting and moaning.

It wasn't long before Dean was attempting to form words again though. "I'm ready. T-take your fingers out, and…and put some of that salve on your dick."

Sam coated himself before looking back to Dean's face. "Come here," Dean said, motioning for Sam to lean over him. Dean spread his legs farther, drawing his legs up some.

"Here," Dean guided Sam's own fingers to his erection. "Press it in."

Sam did as instructed, lining his erection up with the tiny slick entrance and pressing inside slowly. It took a moment and a little force but then the head was popping through the resistance to be squeezed in the moist heat inside Dean.

Sam let his head drop onto Dean's collar bone even as Dean's head fell back on the pillow. It was impossible to say who made the loudest sound at that moment. But then Dean's legs were surrounding his waist, Dean's hands were on his back, one moving down to his ass, pulling Sam in.

"God, keep going," Dean's words were simply a breath of exhaled air. Sam couldn't reply at all, his chest heaved like he was dying, the feeling was so huge, Dean's body sucking him in…

It was all instinctual from there, Sam pulling out and thrusting back in hard, both men crying out, rutting like animals, grasping at each other with their whole bodies, green eyes met hazel and both were lost in the intensity they found.

Sam came first, unable to resist the tight heat, the friction. His back arched as he groaned low one last time, his thrusts losing their rhythm and becoming short and fast. He came back to his senses to see Dean's hand stripping his cock fast as he gasped for air.

Sam's hand came up to join in. The rhythm faltered for a moment before Sam got the hang of the different angle, of how Dean liked it. Then Dean was gasping, his mouth open as were his eyes, until that moment when Dean had to close them, press his head back harder into the pillow, his face tightening into an almost grimace as warmth spilled over their joined hands.

Collapsing onto his side on the bed, Sam watched as Dean's breathing became slower, closer to normal. He ran his hand over Dean's slick chest, his release, unable to get enough of looking and touching and tasting as Sam leaned over to suck on the vulnerable skin of Dean's neck above his collarbone.

He pulled away to see green smiling eyes looking at him. Dean's chest still heaved as he caught Sam's hand, entangling their fingers and holding it still on his belly. Sam moved closer, sharing heat even as they cooled, until he was forced to take his hand away and reach down for the blankets.

Dean lay on his back and Sam snuggled up to his side as they drifted off into a well-deserved rest.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam woke to the feel of a damp cloth being run over the skin of his belly, cleaning away the dried remains of his earlier release.

"Hey, you should be taking it easy, not walking around everywhere." Sam reprimanded.

Dean scowled in response. "It's just a scratch. I'm not an invalid."

"That's a mighty deep scratch."

Dean shrugged, then changed the subject. "You hungry? It's just past dinner time, so Ellen will probably be in the kitchen with the leftovers."

Oh God, Sam thought. They'll know, they'll all know that he had had sex with Dean, with the Prince.

Dean chuckled, apparently aware of the thoughts that had Sam hiding his face in the pillow. "You're going to have to face them eventually, and, yes, they will probably tease you. Come on, stud. Get dressed."

Sam was not amused that Dean was apparently going to make fun of him too. The two men got dressed. Dean was stiff, Sam saw and was limping even worse than before. He decided not to mention it though.

In the kitchen, Ellen was still there and so was Henrickson.

"Oh, look the lovebirds crawled out of their love nest long enough to grace us with their presence," Henrickson started the teasing.

"Now hush," Ellen said, but the smile she was wearing did not promise good things. "They're young men. They need lots of energy to keep up that kind of…enthusiasm."

Sam groaned and dropped into the nearest seat, his head in his hands. Dean just laughed. Still, Sam was hungry and Ellen did feed them. He ate heartily but noticed that Dean quickly faded, all the excitement catching up to him. Dean was practically asleep at the table.

Sam finished his and then they made their way back upstairs, Sam thankful that at least they hadn't seen Jo.

The next morning they headed down to breakfast a little later than Sam normally did but not as late as Dean's routine. Sam had woken up early as usual, but Dean had persuaded him to stay in bed a little longer.

They still didn't see Jo, which could mean that the girl had figured it out and now was hiding from them. Sam hoped that he was mistaken though.

"Hey," Sam began. "Are you going to come into the library with me, tell me about your adventure?"

Dean looked apologetic as he answered, "No, I'll be by later. I have some things to take care of."

By this time Sam didn't ask what kind of things or where. He knew that Dean would be off to the west wing as soon as they were finished. So Sam went into the library alone. He had gotten some reading done while Dean was away, if not as much as he should have.

It was midmorning by the time that Sam read a very important passage. It was about the demon, Azazel. Finally he might have found it. Standing Sam made his way to the kitchen, not surprised to find Henrickson there.

"Well, nice to see you at least made it out of bed this morning." The other man laughed at him.

"Haha. Do you know where Dean is?"

"Nope."

Sam knew what that meant. When Henrickson didn't know where Dean was, meant that Dean was in the west wing.

Sam knew that Dean didn't want him over there, but he couldn't help but to be curious about the place. Jo was right, there had to be something over there if Dean went there. Dean was just so secretive, but there was no reason to be. Sam hadn't laughed at Dean for owning the books, had believed Dean when he said that he hunted supernatural creatures, and was sympathetic when Dean told Sam about his mother's passing.

Sam was certain that Dean was not keeping anything terrible from him. And if he just knew what the secret was, then he could reassure the other man. Surely that was all Dean needed, reassurance of Sam's loyalty to him, commitment to them. Really, it would be a good thing if he just found out what was over there for himself.

Creeping toward the 'forbidden wing', Sam also told himself that the information that he had was really important. Really, Dean should know about it immediately.

Sam walked past empty rooms filled with dust, white sheets draped over all the furniture. He found one room that seemed to be filled with books, another that was filled with boxes like the ones Dean kept the rabbit's foot in. But Sam kept walking because he could hear voices up ahead.

As he got to the room at the end, Sam could clearly hear Dean's low voice. Dean was talking to someone. Sam moved closer until he could make out the words.

"Dad," Dean's voice was the little boy voice that he had had when speaking of his mother. "I, uh, just got back from a hunt. Werewolf. Do you remember that time that we hunted a werewolf? I was sixteen…anyway, it went well, better than the last time."

Dean huffed a humorless laugh at that. Sam inched closer to the cracked door so that he could see inside. Dean was kneeling beside a low bed on which lay an older man, with a salt and pepper beard, apparently unconscious. Apparently it was the King. And Dean called him Dad. Dean did love the man.

Sam shifted his weight, only a smidge but his weight hit the ancient door and it swung open with a loud screech.

Dean turned at the sound, his eyes wide and horrified before they became shuttered, angry, furious.

"What are you doing here?! I told you not to come, never to come over here! You can't…no one can see…Get out! Get out now!"

Terrified and confused, Sam practically fell over as he backed out of the room and then ran down the hallway. At the top of the stairs stood Henderson with Ellen slightly behind and, at the bottom, Jo.

Sam turned back to see Dean still approaching him. "Dean," he tried, his voice pleading. It was then that he saw that Dean was crying, tears creating wet tracks down his face.

"No," Dean's voice was low and menacing. "You have to leave. Get your stuff and leave today."

"But Dean, I…"

"Get out!" And with that, Dean turned back and ran himself back down the hall to the room on the end of the west wing.

Sam turned to Henrickson, to Ellen, disbelief clear on his face. But he could tell the emotions on theirs were simply that of resigned disapproval. Henrickson looked away, but Ellen moved closer, taking him by the arm and saying, "Come with me, dear."

Sam just followed in stunned silence as she led him back to his room. With tears sliding down his face and sniffles, he packed his things.

"I don't understand. I didn't think he would be so upset." He cried.

"I don't know everything about what goes on in that wing, but I do know that Dean needed you to trust him, trust that there was a reason that he didn't want you over there."

Sam sniffled. "I didn't even get to tell him what I found."

They walked to the castle's gate, meeting Henrickson there. "I have a feeling that we'll all be finding out what's going on very soon." She said.

"Here," Henrickson gave him two items, wrapped in cloth. Sam unwrapped the first to find a mirror, but it didn't show his face when he looked into it. It simply stayed a bleary gray. The other it turned out was a ring.

"The mirror will show you anything you want to see. You only need to ask it to show you the castle, or Dean and it will show you." Ellen explained.

"What? How did you…"

"You think we've lived in this castle all these years and have no idea what's going on in it. We have our own connections, collect our own trinkets."

"And the ring," Henrickson continued. "If you need to come back to the castle, turn that ring three times and you'll be back in this courtyard."

Sam nodded, sliding the ring on his right ringfinger. He took a moment to look around at the courtyard, at the beautiful rose bushes now in bloom and the grey castle behind. With a heavy heart, he began the journey back home.

The way home seemed twice as long as it had when he had been going in the opposite direction. Sam remembered the nerves that he had felt, the excitement, the hope for something different and better. And it had been different and better. Sam felt like he had found everything that he had ever wanted inside those castle walls. He had found friends, he had found love.

But it was his curiosity, his insistence that he knew what was right, he knew how things should be that had cost him everything. Maybe it was only right that he be sent home, back to those people that always thought that he acted better than them, better than his station.

Back to his father. Dean did everything for a family that wasn't even there to show him gratefulness, whereas Sam had left his family behind with nary a word. Maybe this was a lesson, a lesson in accepting his place, in learning not to take for granted what he did have. Sam had felt trapped in his village, Dean was literally trapped in the castle walls or in his armor. Sam felt misunderstood, Dean literally lived a life that everyone thought was impossible, that no one would understand and more than that, Dean had to keep it all secret. Dean had responsibilities that he gladly sacrificed everything for.

And Dean didn't complain about any of it. Dean had asked one thing of Sam and Sam had betrayed him. Dean had warned him, said that he couldn't tell Sam, but Sam had pushed, had had to have his way, had to know better.

But Sam still didn't understand. What was the King doing there in the castle this whole time? Was he sick? Was he cursed?

Sam already felt tempted to use the mirror to spy. He wanted to ask it to see the King so he could figure out the mystery. But he wouldn't. He now completely understood that Dean was worth far more than his pride, his supposed intelligence, his curiosity.

The house was empty when Sam got home. He had figured that his father would be working, but Bobby would probably be home soon for lunch. Sam put his things, including the mirror down in his bedroom. It felt like it had been a lifetime since he had last slept in that bed. He had left home a kid with nothing but hopes and dreams, but had returned more grown-up, having had his first taste of bitter regret.

Returning to the kitchen, Sam looked in the pantry and selected the ingredients for a stew. He figured that he might as well make himself useful. He clearly heard his father's steps as the man approached the house and so Sam turned around and smiled as best as he could.

Bobby's face clearly showed his shock at seeing his son in his kitchen again. But then Bobby was rushing forward, wrapping Sam up in a hug so tight and desperate and grateful that Sam felt immensely guilty for the falseness of his smile. He had barely thought of his father, had been too wrapped up in the adventure of being at the castle, but now he felt like the most ungrateful son that ever was born. His father had done the best he could, thrust into single parenthood while having to deal with his grief at his wife's death. Bobby had said a million times that he just wanted the best for Sam.

So he hugged his father back with fervor. Sam had missed the man.

"W-what are you doing here?" Bobby stuttered out.

"I'm back. The Prince had needed me to do some research for him, but it's done now." Turns out Sam could lie as well as his father, but Sam lied to spare himself embarrassment rather than sparing the feelings of someone else.

"Well, that's great!" Bobby was so genuinely excited, but Sam still couldn't help but miss all that he had left behind. "I'm just doing a job over at the Patterson's farm, you can come help me after lunch."

And just like that, everything was exactly the way it had been. But Sam was different. Still, he served up the stew and cut some brown bread. Sitting at his place though, Sam found himself asking a question he hadn't asked since he was a child.

"Dad, what was mom like?"

Bobby looked just as surprised by the question as Sam felt. But Sam had been thinking, about love and family and he wanted to know those things that his father hadn't told him as a child.

"Well I don't know what to say. She was beautiful, smart like you though she couldn't read. She wanted a family so badly," Bobby broke off. The look of wonder that had taken over his face when he had begun speaking had darkened into a look of utter loss at the end.

"You loved her."

"Of course, I did. I'd have done anything for her…"

Sam nodded. Even as terrible as he felt being forced away from the palace and his love, he still couldn't imagine suffering through his lover's death particularly with a child. Bobby had said that he would have done anything for her, and Sam had to wonder if there wasn't some way to fix what had happened between Dean and himself.

The rest of lunch was quiet. Bobby chatted with Sam and the Pattersons through the job as usual and then it was back to the house. Bobby got dinner started, he had gotten a deal on some meat the other day.

Sam found himself wandering into his father's bedroom. He remembered that Bobby had kept his mother's jewelry box in there, for safety's sake when Sam was growing up. It was easy to find amidst all of his father's things, a delicately carved box. He opened it up, finding a cross necklace and a small bottle.

He lifted the bottle up, uncapping it and bringing it to his nose to smell. It was rosewater. The smell brought to mind what Sam had found in the book earlier that day, god that it had only been that morning that Sam had been sitting in the castle's library. Palming the bottle, he went back into his own room.

Sam still regretted not telling Dean what he had found. It was the only thing that he could think of to get back into Dean's good graces. So he picked up the silver mirror, stating clearly as he stared into it. "Show me Dean, the Prince of Winchester."

The mirror's surface swirled like smoke for a second and then it cleared to show Sam what he had asked. Dean was on his knees again, in that room where Sam had found him earlier, but the situation was much different.

The King still lay unmoving on the bed, but it wasn't the bed that Dean was facing. And Dean had been hurt. The Prince had already had a bruise on his cheek when Sam had left, but now his whole face was bruised and bleeding, his lips swollen and split. He looked exhausted, desperate, at the end of his rope.

And he was facing a demon. It was just as Dean had described, tall, probably as tall as Sam himself, broad and muscular, but red, red as the fresh blood on Dean's face, with black horns rising out of his dark hair. And his eyes were yellow.

Slowly Sam became aware that they were speaking, that Dean was begging while the demon laughed, a fiendish noise.

It was the demon whose words, Sam caught first. "I warned you. It was your father's doing that he was cursed, giving you one year to find a way to defeat me before his death, but you knew that if you told anyone, if anyone looked upon him, than your father's life would be forfeit."

"I know. It was my fault. Take me instead, I beg you…"

Sam had heard enough, dropping the mirror but keeping the vial in his left hand, he turned the ring on his right ring-finger three times.

Instantly he was in the castle's courtyard. It was dark already, making everything seem that much more foreboding. Sam ran towards the kitchen door, only stopping to pluck a couple red roses before continuing. As he entered the castle, he could hear voices, Ellen and Henrickson's. Sam's long legs carried him quickly up the staircase and down the corridor of the west wing.

Ellen and Henrickson were indeed yelling and screaming, throwing themselves at the door to the last room. They did not seem surprised to see him.

"You found the answer, right? Before you left?" Henrickson demanded.

"Yes, I need a silver knife, though."

Henrickson took one out of his tunic's belt, handing it over. Sam took it, pouring the rosewater over the blade. Then he turned toward the door. He knew without asking that the demon was keeping it closed magically. But Sam knew that roses were his weakness as symbols of love, the same roses that were planted all over the castle's courtyard.

Sam pressed the red petals of a rose over the door's keyhole and the door opened. Sam gave one rose to Henrickson who hurried to the king and one rose to Ellen who hurried to Dean's side, the Prince now curled on his side on the stone floor. Keeping one rose for himself Sam approached the demon, the manifestation of every child's nightmares.

But the demon was already flinching, grimacing and curling protectively into itself at the red rose that Sam held out in front of him. With confidence he didn't feel, Sam stepped right up to the beast and stabbed him through the heart with the blade.

Three rapt faces watched as the demon convulsed, screaming out threats of vengeance before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. But Sam was already moving, rushing to Dean and falling on his own knees beside the fallen man.

Ellen had been resting her hand on Dean's shoulder, but Sam had to pick Dean up, wrap his long arms around Dean's torso and move the man into his lap. Dean looked terrible, one eye swollen almost completely shut with blood running down his face from a cut near his hairline, his lips swollen. The man was limp as Sam moved him but gasped out in pain.

Sam supported Dean's head, trying to tenderly wipe away the blood from Dean's eyes so that he could see.

"Dean, are you…are you ok? Are you going to be ok?" Sam's voice was a child's plea, a plea for everything to be ok.

"Course," Dean coughed out. "But why…I sent you away…to be safe, why are you..."

"I know, I know and I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I…"

"You saved us."

"I'd do anything for you. I will do anything for you. I'm sorry that I betrayed you, but from now on…"

Sam was interrupted by a new voice, older and gruff from not being used. "Dean?!"

Dean attempted to sit up more at the sound. "Dad?"

Then there was a new person, the King kneeling beside Sam, looking at the man in his lap. "Dean, you…you did it? You got rid of him?"

"Sam did."

The King rightly took the man holding his son to be Sam, and he looked the man over with a measuring eye. Sam looked the man straight in the eye, praying that he was found worthy.

The King looked back to his son. "Are you ok?"

"Fine, sir."

"Don't lie, son."

Dean looked sheepish and for a moment Sam felt like laughing. Even the mighty Dean, Prince and slayer of the supernatural, bowed before the word of his father. "Beat up, sir, but I've had worse. Ribs are probably bruised."

"Well, you be careful with them." Sam could have sworn that the man was talking to Dean, but he looked at Sam as he spoke.

"Yes, sir," Sam answered.

The King nodded. "Help me get him to his room and cleaned up."

And so Sam and the King carried a complaining Dean to his dark green room, trailing Ellen and Henrickson behind them.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Much later…

Sam and Dean loaded their packs onto the waiting horses. Both were filled with excitement and nervousness. They were embarking on a new adventure. Together.

Ellen and Jo, Henrickson, and the King all waited to say their goodbyes to the two young men. A lot had happened since the night that Sam had sent the demon back to hell.

Jo had been sent away shortly after Sam had left that fateful day, Dean insisting on her safety even when he couldn't persuade Ellen and Henrickson to leave. But the girl had returned quickly to help in Dean's recovery.

Dean said that he had never been so cosseted, and the man didn't take to it well. They tried to keep him in bed, propped up on pillows for his ribs, but it was a losing battle.

And the King, well, John had turned out to be both better and worse than Sam had imagined. It was clear that he hadn't been a father to Dean for a long time, perhaps since the Queen had died. It was obvious that he loved Dean, but he forced the responsibility of running a kingdom on his son much too early, had taken away childhood playtime and replaced it with training time, taken Dean on dangerous missions where Dean was not only in danger, but where Dean had to watch his father be hurt and endangered as well.

But now suddenly, John's reason for everything was gone, the demon destroyed, his quest for revenge over and he didn't even get to see it. He was trying, trying to reconnect with his kingdom and his son.

Dean was more difficult to figure out. He had hunted because someone had to save people from the supernatural. And he was proud to be that someone. He couldn't just give that up. So they had reached an agreement. The King would say that the Prince had been sent abroad for an education and Dean and Sam would travel and hunt.

The plan was that Dean would eventually return and take over the kingdom, he already had the experience to do so. And in the meantime, while Dean had healed, John had reluctantly trained an uncoordinated Sam to fight. That was a pretty humiliating experience actually, not least because Dean would come outside to watch, and laugh. But Sam still thought that he would gladly play the fool to hear that laughter, though it would have sounded better without Dean gasping for air afterwards.

And Bobby. Sam's father had been invited/ordered to the castle. Sam didn't want to keep any secrets and he wanted his father to know where he was, what he was doing. And Sam wanted to be able to come back to the castle and see all the people that he cared about.

The castle would be reopened. More servants were coming to fill the vacant positions and there would be balls and dinners and all manner of the trimmings of society. Jo was beside herself with happiness.

And so was Sam. He might be leaving his second home, but he was taking something with him this time, Dean. Dean made Sam happy and they were going to have many adventures together.

Green eyes met hazel ones, both sets filled with intensity. Both filled with love.