A/N: As promised, here's the rest of it!

Again, I'm super sorry guys, I planned to be really productive this summer, I had two other fics planned that would've been this long (if not longer) and another shorter one. I will try my hardest to write during the school year (Em and I have started planning one fic already), but seeing as it's my last year of high school and I've got my A Levels and all, I'm not sure how much time I'll have. Hopefully, I'll write more next summer before uni, because I can't imagine doing much else other than moving to another country.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

They didn't leave the camp until the cover of night, spending the day taking turns keeping watch in case Zachariah sent anyone after them. Although the atmosphere was pretty tense, what with the lurking danger and all, conversation and laughter flowed easily around the camp fire during dinner. Once they finished eating, Sam volunteered to clear out the pots and plates, and Balthazar – with some prodding from Castiel – said he'd keep him company, leaving Dean and Cas free to go off on their own.

That was how they ended up sitting by the riverbank, skipping stones across the surface of the water as they talked quietly.

"Dude, I taught you how to do this when we were kids," Dean said when Castiel's rock went under at the first throw. "You're out of practice."

"Well, there aren't many bodies of water in a castle in London," Castiel replied, smiling. He watched the other send another stone skidding cleanly across the river, before asking softly, "Dean, may I ask you something?"

" 'Course you can, Cas." Dean turned to give him his full attention.

The moon provided just enough light for him to make out Castiel's eyes, crinkling and bright like the stars. It suddenly hit Dean that this was the happiest he'd ever seen Cas since he got back – he looked glad, genuinely and completely glad, with no trace of worry or seriousness on his face.

"How did you and Sam ever end up here?" Castiel asked, as he leaned his shoulder against Dean's.

"In Sherwood?" Dean clarified. "It's nothing you can't guess. We had the farm, then the taxes were raised, and then we didn't have the farm. We needed a place to stay, so the forest was our best option."

"And you've been here all this time?" Cas' eyes were so blue in the moonlight, and Dean hated the way they burned with guilt and sadness.

"About a year after the Crusade started, and pretty much ever since then," Dean confirmed. "But Cas, there's nothing to feel sorry for, okay? It's not your fault Zachariah's a major douche."

"That may be so," Castiel said with a sad smile, "but nonetheless, your suffering is my fault, Dean. I should have been the one to take the throne, not Zachariah."

Dean admitted, "I always wondered about that. What happened?"

"Michael thought I was too young, both for war and for the throne. Even though I was willing, he believed the stress of running a country in his stead would be too much. Compared to a nineteen-year-old, a man like Zachariah, who had experience at court and with ruling, seemed like a better choice," Castiel explained, though he laughed hollowly at the bitter irony. "My brother is a wise man, but even he makes mistakes. I should have listened to my own instincts and not his, and I cannot forgive myself for it."

"Cas," Dean said gently but firmly, and cupped Castiel's face with his hands to force him to listen. "It wasn't your fault. You were a kid. If anyone's to blame, it's Michael."

"Don't talk like that. It's treason." Castiel smiled wryly as he took Dean's hands in his own.

"I don't care. It's the truth, and I'm not gonna let you beat yourself up about this," Dean insisted seriously.

Castiel expected too much from a child who was barely of legal age. It wasn't fair to blame himself so harshly for a mistake his brother had made. Dean needed him to know that, because the look of total agony on Cas' face right now was killing him.

Slumping his head on Dean's shoulder, Castiel decided tiredly, "Let's not dwell on it anymore, please. Talk about something else."

"All right," Dean conceded, before continuing, "We need to figure out how to get you back to London."

"What?" Cas' head shot up. "Dean, I'm not going back. "

"Cas, I need you to be somewhere safe." Dean shook his head, because this wasn't a discussion. He was not gonna argue about this. "After today, you have to get as far from Zachariah as possible."

"And you think going to London is the answer?" Castiel shot back in a deadpan voice, growing more and more tense beside Dean.

"Christ, Cas- I don't know, okay? You need to stay low with another family, someone who you can trust-"

"There are none, Dean!" Castiel exclaimed. "Believe me, I've looked. So many times, I've tried to shift the rule from my uncle to me, but I need strong support for that. And I will not find it while all of England's nobility is in Zachariah's pocket." His voice grew calmer now, and he murmured, "If I return to London, I will be handed back to my uncle immediately, trust in that. The safest I can be is here with you."

Determination burned in Castiel's eyes, and suddenly Dean was reminded that he was dealing with royalty here. Cas could be damn intimidating when he wanted to be.

"Okay, Cas," Dean said in resignation. "I disagree, but if that's what you want, I'm not gonna stop you."

"You don't need to worry, Dean," Castiel reassured him with a small smile. "If it comes to it, I can protect myself. I think I've proven that today."

"Damn right you did," Dean said, grinning in awe just thinking about it. "Probably the most awkward time for me to get a boner, though."

Chuckling, Castiel buried his face into the crook of Dean's neck. The sound of it made Dean's chest rumble with laughter as he stroked the dark hair on Cas' nape. "I just... I can't lose you, Cas," he admitted through a light flush. "I love you too much to let that happen."

Castiel stayed silent, reappearing with an awestruck smile on his lips, and looked Dean dead in the eye. In a shy murmur, he said, "Then you can understand why I can't lose you."

Dean's heart basically stopped beating in his chest. He watched wordlessly as Castiel shifted his weight, leaning in closer.

They were inches apart now, and Dean could feel the tingle of Cas' breath on his lips when he said, "I've already left you once, and I will not be doing it again."

Acting on pure selfishness, Dean closed the gap between them and dragged Castiel on top of him, his thighs caging his lap. The last thing he saw was Cas' eyes slipping shut, before doing the same and focusing entirely on the body pressed against his own. As Cas' fingers got lost between sandy blond strands, Dean's own hands hitched the other's shirt up slightly, tracing his sharp hipbones. He heard Cas' voice catch as Dean bucked up in search of friction, responding with a roll of his hips.

A sliver of tongue passed over the seam of Dean's lips, encouraging him to be bolder, push further, demand more. He chased the tongue back into Cas' mouth, and one nibble on his bottom lip was enough to open him up. A muffled moan broke out from Cas' throat as Dean licked inside, and he could feel it vibrate against his own chest. His breath felt warm and sweet against Dean's mouth, hands carefully cradling the back of his head.

The tenderness of Castiel's touch was a sharp contrast to the burning Dean felt inside, his heart pounding so loud he was sure Cas could hear it too. The string of breathy ah, ah, ahs falling from Cas' lips was driving him crazy.

Their lips parted with a smack because Dean needed to remember how to breathe again. He relished the way Cas' chest grazed his as he breathed in and out deeply, completely wrecked from his hair to his lips to his clothes.

Dean shifted slightly in search of a more comfortable position, and in doing so caused his already uncomfortably hard dick to rub right against Castiel's own erection. The red-hot friction made Dean hiss, and Cas, who had been rasping into his neck, moaned unabashedly,

"Dean, please."

The sound of it made Dean's dick twitch in interest, and he was sure Castiel had felt it brush against his stomach. "You want me to touch you, Cas?" he asked, half-sincere and half-teasing, cupping Cas through his breeches.

Castiel gave a quivery gasp, nails bluntly digging into Dean's bicep, and whimpered, "God, yes."

It was all the answer Dean needed. After gently pushing Cas back a little, he undid the strings of his breeches and pulled them under his hips. But before he could spit on his hand, Castiel pulled the arm away from him.

Dean was about to ask whether he changed his mind, but the words disappeared into a jumble of meaningless sounds when Cas fucking dragged his tongue from the bottom of his palm all the way up to the tips of his fingers holy shit that was amazing. Dean watched in complete awe, consumed by the tingling sensation Cas' tongue left on his skin.

"Cas, you're gonna be the death of me," Dean said hoarsely after Castiel repeated the process and pulled away like it was no big deal.

Cas, the damn tease, just smiled sweetly and said, "Please, go on. I'm sorry I stopped you."

Well, if that was the way he wanted to play it, then fine. Dean wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

Dean gripped him firmly at the base and squeezed ever so slightly, sending Cas keening, eyes pinched shut and chest heaving. He started working his hand at a slow and steady pace, wanting to first dedicate some time to Castiel only, before getting a start on himself. Swiping his thumb over his tip, he spread some of the beading precome to help with his grip, all the while listening to Cas repeat his name over and over again like a prayer. With each stroke, Castiel's hips rocked forward for more friction, his cries rang louder, and his grip on Dean's shoulders grew tighter.

"You have no idea how much I wanted this, Cas," Dean said in a husky whisper as Castiel peppered his throat and shoulders with feather-soft kisses. "Wanted you so bad, sweetheart."

"The sentiment is mutual," Castiel mumbled between pecks, and Christ, he really never stopped with the banter, did he? At the flick of Dean's wrist, he dug his face into his neck again, humming in delight. "Always – ah – wanted you, only you."

Pulling his chin up, Dean kissed Cas through his grin, slow and languid and deep, in time with his unhurried strokes. Finally, Dean used his free hand to untie his own breeches and began working them both together in one hand. Castiel mewled at the contact, eagerly rubbing up against Dean with nothing between them now. The touch alone had Dean's eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

"I've thought about you so often," Castiel admitted low, breath ragged. "What you looked like, what your voice sounded like, how your lips would feel and taste."

And God, didn't that do things to Dean. Speeding up his hand, he pushed their bodies closer together so he could catch Cas' bottom lip in his teeth. Between sucks and nips, he rumbled, "Ever think about me fucking you, sweetheart?"

Cas visibly shivered, voice breaking around a breathy, open moan. "Yes, more times than I care to admit."

Dean's fist was working faster and faster now, conscious of the heat pooling in his stomach. And if the way Castiel was clawing at him was any indication, his body was aching for release too.

"Soon things aren't crazy any more and we have a moment to ourselves, I'll lay you out, do whatever you want me to do to you," Dean promised against the shell of Castiel's ear. After a chaste kiss on his temple, he murmured, "But right now, I want you come, Cas."

And Jesus fucking Christ, Cas didn't need to be told a second time. He came in hot, white spurts between their stomachs, and the fact that he did that on Dean's wordalone forced him to give in too, pumping them through their orgasms. All he could see was white, vaguely aware of Cas gasping his name into his ear.

He slowed down when they were both spent, then tucked them both back into their pants and wiped his hand against the grass. Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's chest, purring in satisfaction when the other's hand lazily ran up and down his back. Dean smiled, glad to see he was sated, and just breathed for a while.

At one point (Dean was too groggy to remember when exactly), Cas rolled off his lap and they lay down side by side, arms entangled and heads touching. They'd stay like that for a little bit, then head back to camp before Sam or Balthazar started worrying.

But for now, it was just them and the stars watching from above.

Cas was a really good hunter. Like, scary good.

Sure, Dean knew that nobles loved going on hunts, but he always somehow thought that it was to pass time rather than learn any skill. He didn't think they were actually good at it. But Cas took it to a whole new level. He knew exactly what he was doing with his bow and arrow, and shot with precision that would make even the best archers nervous. He could read tracks, stalk prey in perfect silence and bring it down like nobody's business. It was Castiel who had caught the doe they now carried back, not Dean.

He was terrifying. Amazing and impressive and really fucking hot, but still terrifying.

All in all though, Dean would call their hunt quite successful. He'd have been happier catching a stag, what with having four mouths to feed now and not two, but given that Zachariah had tripled the number of soldiers on the look-out for them, Cas and Dean had figured that the less time they spent in Nottingham Castle's deer park, the better.

As they entered the security and seclusion of Sherwood, Dean voiced his thoughts from earlier, asking, "Where'd you learn to shoot like that, Cas?"

"My brothers started taking me hunting with them when I was fifteen," Cas answered over his shoulder, "in royal forests near London. Usually Middlesex."

"Yeah? How did that go?" Dean asked. He still remembered all the times Castiel had told him about his brothers' various antics. They seemed to be a lively bunch, to say the least.

"Mostly, it was just Lucifer and Gabriel with me, but Michael joined us whenever he could." Then Cas shot him an anguished look, and Dean threw his head back, laughing. "Having three teachers, especially ones so different, could be trying at times. There was much conflict between their methods," he explained. "Still, I always enjoyed spending time with my brothers. Seeing them again was the only thing I looked forward to when I moved back to London."

Questions suddenly piled up on Dean's tongue. He had always been strangely interested in Cas' life in London. As a child, he had often worried that Castiel found new children to play with and forgot about him. Now, he just wanted to know how Cas had spent all those years away, what growing up in such a different environment from his own was like.

Before he could think better of it, Dean asked, "What was it like in London?"

Castiel sent him a curious look, surprised by the question. "Strange at first. I was eight years old when I left it. And after four years in Nottingham, I forgot what life was like in London. It took time to get used to being surrounded by a city, and not the countryside. I no longer had you to talk to, or Sir Joshua as a guide.

"But time went on. I continued my education, I remembered how to live with brothers instead of a mentor. I learned and I read and... I just lived. That became the life I was used to. But I still thought of Nottingham almost every day. Thinking back to the moments spent with you could entertain me for hours."

"Not that that isn't a huge ego-boost," Dean said, chuckling, "but did you at least try making friends?"

"Ah, but if you remember," Castiel returned, and sent the other a meaningful look over his shoulder, "there were no other children at court."

"What about Balthazar?" Dean pointed out. "You seem like you've known each other for a long time."

"Well, that's different," Castiel said matter-of-factly. "When I turned fourteen, Michael decided to take in a ward from an allied noble family as a companion for me. He chose Balthazar, who was just a few months older than me. As different as we are from each other, we grew close immediately. He's become a part of our family."

They were just beyond their camp now, able to make out the tents hidden in the trees a few feet away. Dean was about to give further directions about the doe when he heard Sam urgently shout his name. He shared a look with Cas, and without another word, they dropped the doe and hurried into the camp.

The first thing they saw as they approached was Balthazar, just coming back with firewood. He shot them a questioning look, having obviously heard the call too.

"What happened?" he asked Castiel.

Before either of them could answer, the sound of footsteps pounding against the ground pulled their attention away. Sam was running towards them, eyes wide and frantic as he yelled, "Dean, they got Bobby!"

Dread settled in his heart, and Dean felt himself go cold all over when he saw the fear etched in his brother's face. "Who took him?" he demanded, stepping forward to meet him.

"Zachariah's soldiers. Friar Jim just told me. They jumped him at the church not an hour ago." At Sam's answer, Dean saw Castiel's jaw tighten. "They're keeping him in the castle's prison. He's under complete lock-down."

"How did they know about him?" Dean asked, because it just didn't make any sense. No one knew that Bobby worked with them. "Was Crowley there when they arrested him?"

"No, they weren't his men. Apparently, Zachariah had spies watching the woods last week. They must have seen Bobby at one point." Sam hesitated to speak, and that only made Dean more tense. He didn't like the way Sam's face contorted with pain. "Dean, they're planning to hang him at dawn."

His heart stopped at the words. Fuck, Dean could feel bile fighting its way up his throat. Christ, they couldn't lose Bobby too.

Dean felt hands wrap around his arm, keeping his steady. He looked up to see Castiel's eyes, all too blue and worried and so sorry. But when he spoke, his voice was firm and resolved, "Dean, we're going to save him. It's not too late. "

"Cas, that's exactly what Zachariah wants," Balthazar countered, then turned to Sam. "Don't you see? He's using your friend to lure out of hiding. The moment you show your face there, he'll have you surrounded."

"It doesn't matter! We're not leaving Bobby to die," Dean retorted.

Sam looked like it physically hurt him to shake his head. "Dean, I know, but what can-"

"No, Sam, that's not up for debate. You and I are busting him out, tonight."

"You and Sam?" Castiel repeated incredulously. "I'm coming with you, Dean."

"Cas-"

"You didn't honestly believe he'd stay behind," Balthazar asked Dean with a mockingly sympathetic smile. "Or I, for that matter. If Michael finds out something happened to you, Cassie, I might as well die with you."

"Okay, your optimism aside," Sam said, scowling at him. "Dean, assuming we even get into the castle without being noticed, how will we free Bobby? And how are we gonna get out?"

Dean didn't answer immediately, though an idea began to form in his mind. Out of it came out a plan – an insane plan, but at least it was something. Instead of saying anything out loud though, he simply told them, "Give me two hours."

"What are you going to do?" Sam demanded in exasperation.

"I'm going to town," he said, tying on his scarf over his mouth. "And trust me, it'll be easier if I do it alone."

Without waiting for any sort of reply, he handed Sam his bow and arrow, then headed out of the camp, pulling his hood over his eyes.

Dean didn't say anything when he finally returned, except that he'd figured out a way to get in and out of the castle undetected. Although Castiel trusted Dean's judgement, he still worried that Dean was too caught up in his emotions to think clearly. He knew what Bobby meant to Dean from childhood experience, knew that Dean would be willing to do anything to save him, and that was what troubled Cas. The last thing he wanted was to see Dean harmed.

Nevertheless, at three o'clock in the morning, the four of them were standing on top of the castle's southern wall. Using an accidental blind spot there, they were able to cross the moat with a makeshift raft and scale the wall with some rope and a hook. But with guards patrolling along the castle walls, the safest thing to do was to climb down immediately.

They only had an hour till dawn, but it was their only window of opportunity. Most of the guards would be focused on securing the area around the castle's gallows at this time, as that was where they believed the Winchesters would come, rescuing Bobby just as he was being brought out. Castiel had no idea how Dean possibly knew this, and when he asked, the blond said that he'd explain everything later.

Castiel barely recognised the castle's courtyard in the dark. Suddenly the whole place seemed cold and unwelcoming, sending his heartbeat into a frenzy. Shadows took the form of guards that lurked in every corner, just waiting for them to step into the blazing glow of torches.

The warm touch of Dean's hand on his shoulder was a welcome feeling, and it simmered his nerves down enough for him to focus. Turning to Dean, Cas pointed out the direction of the prison, then waited for him to assess the surroundings and give the sign. When he did, Castiel didn't waste a second.

Though it was barely a five minute's walk from where they stood, getting to the prison took much longer than expected. All too often, they were forced to hide behind walls or under arches by passing guards. Sometimes they needed to wait several minutes for them to leave, wasting their already short time span.

After a painful fifteen minutes, Castiel led them into the shadow of a balcony before attempting the final stretch. The tower in which the prison was situated stood just across them now.

Suddenly, the light of a torch appeared on the wall just ahead of them, and before Castiel could take any action, the sheriff himself came around the bend. Castiel's breath stopped as he watched his eyes widen a fraction, then approach them in a hurry, scowling.

Instantly, Castiel and Balthazar pulled out their swords, but were stopped when Dean whispered hastily,

"Wait! Don't attack him!"

Castiel gaped at him in utter confusion, but before he could even ask just what exactly he meant, he heard,

"What took you so long, Winchester? I said three o'clock. You know how bloody long I've been waiting here?"

Castiel blinked once, twice, trying to establish who had spoken, because it surely couldn't have been Crowley.

But it was. Castiel looked to Dean – he could see no fear or tension in his face, just slight annoyance. "What is going on?" he asked in a deadpan.

"Seriously, Dean? Crowley was your plan?!" Sam hissed at his brother.

Dean ignored both of them, and instead told Crowley, "Well, maybe if you didn't have guards posted at every single fucking corner, we would have gotten here sooner."

"What was I supposed to tell Zachariah? Send all your men home tonight, my lord, there's no need for any of them because I'm trying to help those Winchester idiots break in?!" Crowley seethed.

"He's on our side?" Balthazar asked Castiel, face scrunched up.

"Unfortunately," Sam muttered.

"Excuse me, but some blooming gratitude would not be out of line here," Crowley warned him. "I could very well die for this."

"Dean." Castiel rounded on the blond in exasperation.

"Look, Crowley's been working with us for a couple of years now," Dean said quietly. "He helps us stay out of trouble every now and then. See, he doesn't like Zachariah's rule either."

Castiel looked to Crowley, who simply smirked. "The sod makes me pay more to stay on as sheriff than your brother ever did."

"Anyway," Dean went on with an eye roll. "He's arranged everything for us. The break-in, the escape. He even got Zachariah to post all of his soldiers at the gallows."

"But hang on," Balthazar cut in. "If my memory serves me correctly, he was the one who gave you up at the archery tournament. You know, the one you nearly got beheaded at?"

"I had to," Crowley said with a nonchalant shrug. "Four of my men there knew what he looked like already. I warned him not to come in the first place, but he just couldn't keep away." He smirked knowingly in Cas' direction.

"Shut up," Dean told him, and to Balthazar, he explained, "It didn't matter anyway. When Zachariah wasn't paying attention, Crowley loosened my bonds and let me punch him in the nose."

"And that makes everything all right, I suppose." Castiel looked at him wryly.

"Look, do you want to go save Bobby or not?" Crowley asked Dean. "I told the guards at the prison they were needed elsewhere, but it'll only give us a quarter of an hour."

"That's more than enough time," Sam said.

After crossing to the tower, Crowley made quick work of unlocking the door and leading them to the highest cell, where Bobby was being held. The blacksmith sat on the cold ground, back slumped against the wall and hands chained above his head at an awkward angle. Having been kept in complete darkness, he was momentarily blinded by Crowley's torch, unable to see his visitors.

"What do you want now?" he growled. "You know what dawn looks like, you idjits? When the sun comes out-"

"Bobby, it's us," Sam said, rushing forward and kneeling in front of him. With a steadying hand on his shoulder, he told him, "We're getting you out of here."

"Great. I didn't feel like dying today, anyway," he said as Crowley began to unlock his chains. "And you," he snapped at the sheriff, "how about a little warning next time I'm about to be arrested?"

"Good to see you too, Robert," Crowley drawled sarcastically.

"Will you knock it off?" Dean called from the hall, where he was keeping watch.

Castiel saw Crowley roll his eyes, but the sheriff made no other comment. When Bobby was finally freed, he was helped out the cell by Sam, where Dean was waiting to grab him in a hug.

Pulling back, Dean started, "Bobby, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't bother with that now, boy. Let's just get outta here."

Once they were back outside, Crowley said to Dean, "I'll distract the guards with a false alarm by the north wall. You just get to the exit as fast as you can."

"Sounds like a plan," Dean said. "Thanks, Crowley."

"Don't thank me yet," Crowley muttered. "If we all hang for this, I'll be comforted knowing I won't have to kill you myself. And if we don't, you owe me big time."

With that, Crowley headed back to the gallows, while the rest of them made their way to the south wall. However, Bobby's limp meant that their progress was even slower than before. The good news was that Crowley's diversion seemed to work; they heard shouting not long after they had parted, and now guards were flocking to the north. The sheer number of them was staggering – Zachariah wasn't taking any chances this time.

"Bobby, you know that you're gonna have to stay in Sherwood for now, right?" Sam whispered. "Soon as Zachariah figures out you're gone, you'll be on his list with the rest of us."

Bobby grunted in response, "Well, at least I won't be paying taxes."

"How far are we, Cas?" Dean murmured to the other.

At the front, Castiel replied over his shoulder, "Almost there. The south wall is just down that street there, and around the corner."

Dean was about to respond, but a gruff shout from behind them beat him to it.

"You there! Stay where you are!"

Castiel's blood froze as he saw three guards running towards them, each with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. Within seconds, he was drawing out his own blade, along with Dean and Balthazar, while Sam ushered Bobby behind him.

The clash of steel against steel was thunderous in the dark silence surrounding them. The first guard came at Castiel, who quickly relieved him of his torch, but got an elbow to his face for his efforts. It sent his head spinning, barely able to dodge out of the blade's way in time. He took his chance while the guard's back was turned to kick the back of his knee, sending him to the ground.

For a moment, he stood paralysed, reluctant to deliver the final blow. This man had previously been in the service of his brother, and now just followed orders made in his name. He had no choice but to listen to Zachariah.

The guard was getting to his feet now and Castiel had to decide quickly. He chose to spare him, and struck the back of his head with his sword's hilt, sending him to the ground again, unconscious. However, the problem was far from over. The shadows of men, illuminated by torches, ran across the wall behind them, obviously having heard the commotion. It was a matter of minutes before they arrived around the corner.

Dean must have noticed as well, because he turned to his brother and said, "Sam, get Bobby out of here and head for Sherwood-"

Sam cut him off almost instantly. "Dean, there's no way in hell I'm leaving you here alone."

"He won't be alone," Castiel said. "I'll stay with him. There is no use in trying to dissuade me," he added to Dean, knowing he was about to argue without even having to look. "Balthazar, you should go with Sam."

"Cas-" Balthazar started with a scowl.

"Sam will need your help if you meet more guards. Go, I'll be fine," Castiel assured him.

When no one moved, Dean snapped urgently, "Don't waste time. Just go!"

Sam and Balthazar each took Bobby under one arm and headed towards the exist as quickly as they could. As they disappeared into the darkness, Dean turned back, his sword lifted, but Castiel stopped him.

"There's too many to fight, if the shadows are any indication." Castiel jerked his chin at the silhouettes, which were growing by the second and outlined at least half a dozen men. "We'll have to outrun them, but we can't risk leading them to the south wall."

"That kinda limits our options. You know of any other exit?" Dean asked, sheathing his sword.

Castiel met his eyes gravely. "Other than the main gate, I do not."

"We'll just have to figure it out as we go," Dean told him with a crooked smile as the first guard appeared around the bend, sword at the ready. He slipped his hand into Castiel's, then asked, "Run?"

"Definitely," Castiel replied, before spinning them around.

As the two of them bolted down the narrow alley, Castiel racked his brain for an inkling of an idea. The main gate, if even open in the first place, would be shut the minute they were seen approaching. The only thing left was to manoeuvre the guards around the castle, giving the other three enough time to cross the wall. Perhaps then Dean and he could make a run for the south, and take their chances scaling the wall while being shot at.

He told Dean as much, who then replied, "Okay, just keep leading us in circles until it's safe to try the wall."

Castiel nodded, already picturing the castle's grounds in his mind. He had spent four happy years running between these walls, watching everything and everyone that passed him. He could remember each corner and turn like he was staring right at them. Coupled with the fact that both he and Dean happened to be fast runners, they managed to keep a good distance ahead of the guards. Yet despite Castiel taking any obscure, dark path he could find in hopes of shaking them off, the torches steadily burned behind them, the voices of men not far behind.

Castiel prepared to make a turn that would complete their first circle through the grounds, just waiting to reach the corner and zip right. But when they did, he was shocked to see their path blocked by another group of guards running right towards them.

"Cas-?" Dean started, but Castiel tugged him in the opposite direction, forced to go left instead, despite knowing where that way led.

"Dean, in a few minutes, we're going to run into a dead end," Castiel informed him calmly, even though his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. "If we want to avoid getting caught, there's only one way to go. How good are you at kicking down doors?"

"I can get the job done, why?"

"Because we're going to run inside the watchtower, and from there, we'll have to try jumping onto the walls."

"Fan-fucking-tastic."

True to his word, Castiel led them to the tower not two minutes after, where Dean wasted no time in pummelling the door right beside the handle, forcing it off its hinges. They hurried in, but barely stepped onto the first stair when guards started piling in.

Castiel had just enough time to pull out his sword and run the guard that charged at him right through. He pulled his sword out, ready to swing again, and the force of his movement sent the dead soldier to the ground, body and sword and all. Which meant his torch too, and it fell right at Castiel's feet.

The incredibly sweltering summer they had been experiencing recently meant no rain in weeks, and no rain meant dry wood. This included the wooden stairs, and allowed them to catch fire in less than a minute.

Castiel watched in horror as the flames licked up the railing. "Dean," he called, parrying another guard's sword and disarming him. "Run, now!"

When Dean caught sight of the growing flames, he blanched and said, "On it."

Without even caring about the other guards, they hurried up the stairs. Going in circles at such a speed made Cas increasingly dizzy, and it was all he could do not to fall over and break his neck. They climbed higher and higher and higher, until finally they reached the top, surrounded by the cold night air at all sides. Castiel could hear the crackle of fire below them, and already the heat could be felt beneath the floorboards.

"Cas, there's no where to go but the roof!" Dean said. Without waiting for Castiel to respond, he grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side, where they started climbing over the railing and upwards.

The conical roof wasn't slippery, but it was steep enough to almost send them to the floor several times. Castiel led the way as he quickly but carefully circled around to the nearest wall, then inched towards the edge. The distance was daunting, but manageable, and the drop down to the wall was lower than he expected. However, the fall they'd face if they missed was not, but right now it sounded better than being flayed alive.

He shared a look with Dean, who simply shrugged, before the two of them lurched forward. For a split second, Castiel felt nothing but the wind whipping through his hair. Then he felt his knees painfully crashing into stone, but knew that they made it.

Ignoring the stinging in his legs, he got to his feet and turned to Dean. "If we go right, we'll get to the south wall-"

Cas didn't get a chance to finish however, because an archer appeared on top of the wall just a few feet away from them. With his bow already nocked, the archer pulled back at his string and took aim right at Castiel, seconds from shooting.

Shock paralysed Castiel and suddenly his mind went totally blank. All he could do was wait for the inevitable impact of the arrow and the searing pain in his chest as he bled from the heart.

Before that could happen though, Cas felt Dean wrap his arms around his waist and yank back, sending them over the wall and towards the moat below.

For the first time in years, Dean woke up feeling well-rested and completely at ease. He couldn't remember the last time he was this relaxed after sleeping, having grown used to anxiety settling in his chest the minute he could think straight.

Often, it would be a sudden noise that rousted him, or sometimes Sam, when it was his turn to stand watch or worse, if danger was at hand. Now, it was the afternoon sun, peeking from the canopy of leaves and dancing across his eyes. It was the soft rustle of shrubs in the breeze. It was Castiel nuzzling deeper into his chest, his breath tickling Dean's skin.

Dean pulled Cas closer until he was draped over him, then pressed a kiss into his black hair. As he settled down again, Dean idly dragged his thumb across Castiel's bare shoulder, content to let the sun's rays play over the contours of their naked bodies. After last week's events, he needed to just have Cas next to him, needed to hold and feel him.

He'd been terrified out of his mind when he watched that archer aim straight at Cas. He didn't even want to think about what might have happened had he not pulled them over the wall's stone barrier and into the water of the moat. The only thing that had been on his mind as he had struggled to break the surface was Cas – the need to get him out of the water and somewhere safe if he'd been hit. Dean had managed to pull both of them onto the shore and under the cover of the trees just in time, where they would be out of the archer's range. He still remembered the immense wave of relief that washed over him when he saw that Cas wasn't bleeding, that he was breathing just fine and alive.

Dean's arm instinctively tightened around Castiel before he could stop it. A moment later, Cas responded with a hum rumbling in his chest, eyes blearily opening and shifting into focus.

Lifting his head to take a look around, he mumbled in a daze, voice rough from sleep, "Dean, what... Did we doze off?"

"Fell into a coma, more like," Dean teased as he stole a quick peck from him. "Looks like it's almost two in the afternoon."

"If I recall, we were supposed to go for a short walk before lunch," Castiel said. "Instead, you dragged us into the first bush you could find to have sex."

"Hey, you were the one who brought us here to make out, remember?" Dean pointed out, gesturing to the shrubbery around them. "I just... took it a little further."

"A little is an understatement. I'm sore all over," Castiel complained, though the smile on his lips hinted that he wasn't as bothered about it as he claimed to be.

"You asked for it," Dean teased with a grin, the memory of Cas begging still fresh in his mind. And well, Dean had never been able to say no to Cas.

"It seems I have overestimated my abilities,"Castiel quipped in return, smiling softly. "Joking aside though, we should be getting back. The others might worry."

"They won't," Dean assured him as he gently pushed Castiel back into the grass. Rolling over and caging him with his body, he lowered his head to suck on the skin on Cas' neck. Between kisses, Dean murmured, "Let's stay just a little longer."

Castiel didn't seem to have a problem with this, cupping Dean's chin so he could press their lips together. As Cas' fingers wound into Dean's hair, the blond easily deepened the kiss, his mouth lazy and languid against Castiel's. Dean rolled his hips in slow circles, eliciting a satisfied moan from Cas as he pushed up against his body in search of friction. Castiel shifted beneath him, opening his legs wider, urging the blond closer by his hair. Dean was about to make a joke about Cas' soreness, but it completely blanked out of his mind when the other's hand strayed down his sides and slipped between their groins. Pretty much all he could think about after that was needing to be inside Cas right now.

Another hour had passed by the time they finally appeared at the camp. Dean had been right in expecting that they wouldn't be missed – the only response they got when they showed up was a sly smirk and an eye-roll from Balthazar and Sam respectively. Lunch had gone cold when he and Cas settled down to eat by themselves, but neither really cared.

The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same, slow manner. Things had settled down considerably since Bobby's rescue and they hadn't had any trouble in a week, which for Sam and Dean, was a brand new experience. Maybe Zachariah had taken the fire as an attempt on his life and decided to let sleeping dogs lie. Dean didn't know and didn't really care, so long as the sudden streak of peace continued.

Unfortunately, it was only able to continue for all of three hours after that, when Crowley's unannounced appearance put an end to it.

"God, what is it now?" Sam groaned as he sat up in the grass, obviously thinking along the same lines as his brother.

"Relax, Moose. I come as a bearer of good tidings," Crowley teased. That, along with his mysterious smile, was enough to get everyone's attention. They stopped whatever they had been doing, all eyes settling on the sheriff.

"What is it?" Dean asked from where he and Cas had been sharpening swords.

"It is with great sorrow that I inform you of Count Zachariah's departure to London," Crowley said, taking a seat beside Bobby at the fire pit. "He will be greatly missed by all, I'm sure."

Dean laughed. "Finally. At least that's one less thing to worry about."

"I wasn't finished." Crowley looked directly at Castiel now, and with a slightly raised eyebrow, he told him, "Zachariah left for London because he has been summoned there. News has reached England that the quest for the Holy Land ended some few weeks ago. Sadly, Jerusalem has been lost."

Castiel's face suddenly contorted in sadness, gaze falling to his hands. Dean understood that is was a blow in more ways than one for him; Jerusalem had been the main objective of the Third Crusade, which his brothers had risked their lives for. Not only that, the failure to recapture it also meant that the past three years of Zachariah's tyranny had been endured for nothing.

"What of my brothers?" Castiel asked after a silence, face tense as he waited for the answer. "Will all three come home?"

"King Michael and both princes will be in Normandy by tomorrow tonight," Crowley answered. "They'll be emotionally and spiritually devastated, I imagine, but they will return nonetheless."

"Thank God," Castiel murmured, smiling at Balthazar.

"They'll land in England within three hours after reaching Normandy, if wind is right," Balthazar told him through a wicked grin.

"And they'll arrive in London within two days after that," Castiel concluded, nodding. "I need to be there when they do."

The meaning of his words hit Dean a second after, but when it did, he immediately shook his head. "Cas, no. You can't go back to London while Zachariah's there."

"That is exactly why I must go, Dean," Castiel said. "I fear that my uncle might try to take the throne by force before my brothers return."

"He wouldn't dare," Balthazar countered, looking horrified at the idea. "Not when Michael has an army on his side."

"Michael's men are exhausted from three years of fighting," Castiel told him sadly. "Zachariah is not a fool, Balthazar. If there is even the slightest possibility for him to hold on to the throne, he will do it."

"What do plan you on doing?" Sam asked.

"Zachariah's power lies with the nobles who allied with him. They will lend him men should he try to overthrow Michael. Without their support, he has nothing," Cas explained, his voice growing impassioned with each word. "If I can get them to leave his side, I could imprison him before Michael even gets back."

"But how, Cas? You've got nothing to buy them back with," Dean told him. Christ, the risk was too high and the chances of success practically non-existent. How couldn't Cas see that?

"Michael's men may be all but spent, but do not forget that they are devoted to him. They will find the strength to fight if it is their king's order. When Zachariah fails to usurp the throne, the first thing Michael will do is rid the court of any other traitors. And who will he trust unconditionally when he can no longer tell friend from foe?" Castiel smiled, dangerous and goddamn terrifying. "I am the king's beloved and ever-loyal brother. The the fate of the nobility will lie with me. If I tell Michael they have endorsed my uncle's actions from the start, he will not hesitate to kill them. However, if he is informed that they have so graciously helped me stop the usurper, then perhaps he will be lenient."

"Bloody hell, Cas," Balthazar muttered with an impressed smirk. "Still, it's only possible that Michael's army comes out on top. You think it will be enough to make them feel threatened?"

"No," Castiel said gravely, "it will put the fear of God in them, possibility or not. Nobles are always terrified of their king, and Michael is a force to be reckoned with when he feels vengeful."

Listening to Cas' plan unfold, Dean made a memo to never piss him off. Having his family threatened made Cas remorseless. Dean had never seen him like that. He felt like he was watching a different person – it was so unlike the soft-spoken, kind Castiel he was used to.

Anger still boiled in Cas' veins; Dean could tell by the way his entire body was thrumming. In an attempt to calm him, the blond placed a hand on his knee, hoping that the familiar touch would be soothing.

And it was. In a second, Castiel was leaning into his shoulder, eyes closed as his breathing steadied. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before finally turning to look at Dean. His eyes were sad, but determined. "Dean, I will have to leave tonight. I need to protect my people as I should have a long time ago."

Dean nodded and looked him hard in the eye. "I know, Cas. That's why I'm coming with you."

Smiling, Castiel admitted, "Now I understand what you felt when this situation was reversed. But I must be a hypocrite and insist you do not follow me. This is far more dangerous than anything we've been through before."

Dean gripped his shoulder like he was trying to shake some sense into him. He could feel his throat closing up, the words nearly choking him as he whispered, "Cas, I need to be there. You could die."

"I could have died several times this summer," Castiel reminded him. "But I didn't. And I won't now."

As much as he wanted to argue, Dean could tell there was no more use. So that night, he got ready to say goodbye to Cas again, and it sucked just as much as it did the first time.

He and Balthazar would be travelling on horses stolen from the castle. Their plan was to ride as far as Leicester, where they would switch horses, and then again at Northampton and Dunstable. The constant changes would allow them to waste as little time on rest as possible, since London was almost two days away. Dean didn't even think that Cas planned on taking any pauses for himself, except when he couldn't fight sleep or hunger any longer.

Dean lingered by Castiel's mount, double-checking that his supplies were in order. As he fastened his sword to the saddle, a hand covered his own, and he turned to give Cas what he hoped was a comforting smile. Judging by the way the corner of Castiel's mouth twitched, it didn't work.

Dean dropped the act and let his face shift into a worried frown. "If anything goes wrong, Cas, I don't care how you do it, but you let me know, all right? Promise me."

"I promise," Cas conceded.

God, how did he look so calm while Dean was losing his mind? Dean knew he wasn't overreacting, okay? He was reacting just enough. He couldn't believe he was losing Cas again. Never in a million years did he think he'd have to feel this dull, persistent ache again.

"Be careful," was all Dean had the strength to say, but Castiel seemed to understand him just fine.

"I will," he said and tilted his head to press a soft kiss to Dean's lips.

But it just wasn't enough, not when the stakes were so high. Dean pulled Cas in by his waist, his hold on his hips an iron grip, fingers digging into flesh. A quiet moan escaped past Castiel's lips as his tongue slipped into Dean's mouth, pleading and desperate. Dean tried to memorise everything he was feeling at the moment; the warmth and taste of Cas' lips, the brush of his noses, his short breaths on Dean's cheek. Christ, he had no idea when he would get to hold him like this again, if ever.

Cas pulled away just enough to murmur into the seam of Dean's lips, "This time, I will come back. I promise, Dean."

"I know," the other mumbled as he forced himself stepped back. Watching Castiel mount his horse, Dean told him with a half-smile, "Good luck, Cas. Kick Zachariah's ass for me."

"I will be only too happy to," Castiel responded, grinning.

After a nod to Sam and Bobby, he and Balthazar turned their steeds around, setting them off into a trot, then slowly working up into a canter. Dean didn't move an inch until they were swallowed up by the dark forest, and the sound of hooves melted into the silence of the night.

The next few days were nerve-wrecking, as they waited for any sort of sign that Michael was back on the throne and that Zachariah was gone for good. All of England was buzzing about the king's ships arriving at Dover, but that was pretty much it. Dean was so caught up in it that he could barely function normally, checking with Crowley every day in case Cas sent anything remotely akin to a cry for help. No such message ever came, which he would have taken as a good thing if his brain hadn't helpfully supplied: Wait a minute, maybe he's not writing because he's dead. Dean didn't get much relief from his worries after that.

And then finally, finally, a change. Dean knew that Castiel had succeeded when the taxes went back to normal. After that, people all over the country were pardoned and released from prison. Land was given back to those who lost it. And the best news of all: Zachariah was in prison.

Nottingham slowly got back into the swing of things. Now that people weren't starving anymore, they could return to life as it had been three years ago. Crowley deemed Bobby free to return again and continue working in his smithy. Crops grew again, houses were rebuilt, and the town rose from the ashes, bustling with life once more.

For Sam and Dean, things changed drastically now that the people of Nottingham were saved. Though they remained in Sherwood (because they were technically still wanted by the county, dead or alive), they no longer robbed travellers in the forest. There was no point in it anymore. Nottingham didn't need the money, and the Winchesters certainly didn't need it either. They had everything in forest, always had and always will.

An entire month passed before they knew it, spent hunting, gathering wood, picking herbs, and sleeping – a lot of sleeping. And all the while, Dean never forgot Castiel's promise. He believed that he would come back, he did. He understood that it might take a while longer, but that didn't mean he liked it, or even had the patience to stand the wait. Christ, he hated waiting.

Without much else to do, Sam and Dean spent their afternoons lazing around in the shade and napping (like he'd said, there was plenty of that). Today was no different; after finishing a nice venison and mushroom broth, they were content to just lie in the grass and sleep the heavy meal off. Dean could already feel himself drifting off to dreamland, teetering on that line where consciousness and sleep blurred.

Of course, that was the moment that hooves sounded not far from the camp. Damn Crowley's bad timing. Dean groaned, dragging his forearm over his eyes, determined to ignore the sheriff. Crowley didn't visit much anymore, just every now and then to bring news from town. As much as Dean tried, he couldn't block out the horse's nickering as it came to a stop, nor the heavy fall of boots approaching him.

"Listen," Dean grunted without giving Crowley chance to speak. "You mind coming back in like, an hour? I'm beat and I really could use with a nap right now."

"All right, if that is what you wish," came the answer, but it wasn't Crowley's voice.

Dean froze, taking in the deep baritone, the soft hint of amusement in it.

Whipping his hand off his eyes, Dean sat up to see Castiel leaning over him with a smile, the sun's rays caught in his black hair like a halo. In seconds, Dean was clumsily pulling him down beside him, not caring that Sam was three feet away and looking incredibly scandalised.

The first press of their lips was disastrous, wrecked with longing and excitement. Both of them were laughing like crazy, which left them struggling to kiss through their grins. The second was an improvement, as Dean got a better grip on Castiel's shoulders, allowing the other to cup his chin. It was slower this time, gentle yet firm, proof that this was real. With a soft smack, Cas pulled back, and even though Dean really wanted to keep kissing him, he let him sit up straight.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think I'd be away this long," he started, "but my uncle left lot of damage that had to be undone. You'll be happy to learn he's been imprisoned, however."

"Yeah, the town threw a party when the news came. We didn't sleep for a week," Sam said, grinning.

"I can imagine," Castiel said. "England looked much better to me as I rode back. The people are recovering well, and soon Michael will establish a normal rule again."

Dean hummed in agreement as he rubbed Castiel's back, unwilling to give up touching him altogether."What happened when you got back, Cas? Any problems?"

"Not beyond what I expected. My plan worked perfectly," Cas answered, and Dean was surprised to see an actual smug smile on his face. "The nobles surrendered almost immediately, and Zachariah was captured the next day. Just in time for Michael to give his final judgement on his future."

"How are your brothers?" Sam asked at the mention of the king.

"They've taken the loss of Jerusalem well, better than I thought they would. Though I suspect that the time spent travelling back was used to come to terms with the fact," Castiel admitted. "They're completely drained, physically and mentally. It's why I suggested we all come here together."

Dean's mind back-tracked. "What do you mean, here? Where's here?" he stammered.

"Nottingham," Castiel said, feigning innocence. "The hunting here is unparalleled. Well, that, and Michael has come to give you each a knighthood."

"He- What?" Sam spluttered. "Knighthood?"

Dean could only gape at Cas. The words just weren't processing to his brain, it seemed. "He actually wants to knight us?"

"Of course. It's your pardon. He wants to repay you for risking your lives to help Nottingham's people," Cas said as he got to his feet.

"But, Cas. We broke the law," Dean pointed out, still in a daze.

"Technicalities." Castiel shrugged, then pulled Dean up because he clearly wasn't going to do it himself. "Come, we should go. He's waiting for you at the castle. It won't take long, you'll be knighted and then formally given a plot of land. I think it's all you'll need to start a normal life again."

"We're getting land?" Sam really couldn't do much other than repeat after Cas.

Dean, on the other hand, couldn't say anything. He just stared at Cas, who stared right back, eyes crinkling and bright and blue.

Holy shit. This was actually happening. They could start up their farm again. Hell, they could have two farms if they wanted to. He and Sammy would have to work hard to get it to the standard their father kept it at, but it could finally happen.

There was really only one thing left to say.

As he tugged Cas closer by the waist, Dean grinned crookedly. He could feel excitement thrumming through every part of Castiel's body, just as it did in his. "You know, you once told me you'd like to live on a farm."

"I did, didn't I?" Castiel said with a squint, like he was trying to read his mind.

"Well, given the chance, think you'd still be up for it?"

"What do you have in mind?"

Shrugging, Dean said simply, "Getting married."

God, the huge smile that bloomed on Cas' face said everything, but he murmured anyway, "I would certainly be up for it."

He didn't even wait for Dean to respond before bringing their lips together for a chaste kiss. Their mouths slotted together perfectly, already familiar with each other. And yet, there was something new about it, something Dean didn't recognize – a spark that came with knowing that they won't be leaving each other's side anymore.

The small cough from Sam had them pulling away, and they looked at him in curiosity and annoyance respectively. "Um, Cas said we should get going, so," he pointed out with an awkward smile.

Dean looked one last time at the home he and Sam had built over the past two years. His chest suddenly constricted at the thought of leaving it, but he knew it was for the better. It was time to let the forest belong to the beasts, and not the outlaws.

With Castiel's hand in his own, they walked away side by side, into the sunlight that waited beyond.