Jimmy stood near the entryway into the temple's throne room, afraid that he would trip in front of everyone once they marched down the aisle up to the great stone dais, or something else equally as embarrassing. He gulped at the amount of people gathered in the great hall: hundreds of the Rebel Hunter troops, the refugee families, dignitaries sympathetic to the Rebel Hunter's cause, and Castiel himself- standing at the end of the aisle. Two banners hung from the stone ceiling; the old Republic banner was old, tattered and scorched in some places- one of the only banners that were saved from the countless battles that ensued after the Galactic Host took control. The other banner was newer, though kept in secret; this was to be the new Republic's banner when the Galactic Host was gone completely, the Rebel Hunter banner of peace.
Jimmy jerked when he felt a touch to his arm and turned, an officer motioned him forward silently, and the young man joined the Winchester brothers who were just a step away from the archway. As soon as they took a step forward, a celebratory fanfare of trumpets sounded. Jimmy's heart pounded as they marched down the aisle, hearing each Rebel Hunter sound off and salute them as they passed by. They climbed the three steps, and kneeled before Prince Castiel who gazed solemnly down at them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chuck3PO and BeckyD2 standing near the edge of the dais, their metal bodies shined and reflected the lights in bright little beams of light, and he smiled at how well even the droids were taken care of.
Prince Castiel turned to an officer standing by him and took a medal from him, and draped it over Dean's neck. Dean looked up at him, and Castiel was stunned by the intense look in his eyes. He looked the prince from his head to his toes, taking in his ceremonial clothing; finally he grinned saucily and winked. The prince fought the urge to roll his eyes, and repeated his actions with the two other men, draping their medals carefully over their necks.
When they stood, and the heavy medal settled over his chest, Jimmy felt tears prick at his eyes. He blinked rapidly to banish them away, and looked over the cheering crowd. He saw families joining with their soldiers, the refugees beaming with happiness; the haunted look had faded at least for the time being. They had had a memorial for those that were lost during the battle, and they were given peace as well as something to forget for a while what they had lost. Jimmy bit his lip; he would have given anything for his family to be here, watching all of this, seeing what he had done.
He started as he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and looked to see Dean smiling softly at him, his green eyes shining suspiciously. Jimmy glanced away for a moment, and felt the corners of his mouth turn up. He turned back and opened his mouth to congratulate Dean, but stopped suddenly, his throat seizing in apprehension. Over Dean's shoulder he saw a faint glow beside Chuck3PO at the edge of the stage. The mysterious figure sharpened into the features of none other, but Bobby. He folded his translucent arms over his chest and nodded; his expression peaceful. Just as quickly as he appeared, he faded away, making Jimmy question if he really saw him or not.
Dean's concerned face filled his blurry vision, "Hey man, you okay?"
Jimmy took a breath and nodded, "I'm fine."
"Okay," Dean drawled, "Look like you just saw a ghost."
Jimmy nervously laughed, "Yeah, no. Just a little-"
"Overwhelmed," Sam supplied quietly. He gazed out at the crowd and breathed, "This is just the beginning, guys."
The revelry was under way, the music was playing and the Alderaani wine flowed freely. It wasn't Dean's particular drink of choice, but he drank it any way, anything to get the nerves out of his system. He was never very comfortable around large groups of people, especially those he didn't know. He was more at ease around the soldiers and pilots, those were his type of people, but if he wanted to talk to Castiel, he'd have to break through the barrier of senators and officials surrounding him.
After his fourth glass of Alderaani wine- which he had to admit, was a little stronger than he remembered drinking at the young age of sixteen- and after a near hour waiting almost patiently, he caught his moment of opportunity as the crowd parted to reveal a white-robed figure gracefully walked outside onto the only balcony. He waited for a few moments to make sure his quarry wasn't followed, and made sure that no one was watching him as he hugged the wall and sidled outside.
The night was balmy, though the wind rustled through the jungles trees and plants that gilded the balcony softly. The stars twinkled merrily in the sky, as if they were grateful that the Morning Star was gone from their space. The double moons were full, their bright rays edged everything in blues and silvers; it was truly one of the most beautiful nights Dean had ever seen. His heart made a strange motion in his chest when his head turned to the far left and caught sight of Prince Castiel, leaning his lower back against the railing, his right arm across his waist and a wine clutched gracefully in his other hand. He was looking out over the jungle landscape, a soft and thoughtful look on his face. The moons' rays hit him full on, he seemed to radiate the light; he looked so…pure. Dean couldn't help to think that in those few moments of just gazing at him, that he was an angel sent to save him. From what- or who- he didn't know.
Dean knew he must have made some noise- a wrong step, a gasp- for the young prince's head turned toward him, his eyes seemingly boring into him. Those electric blue eyes sent sparks down his spine, made his heart skip a beat and chilled him with the thought that they could see into his soul. Those eyes had set him aflame since the first moment they had met, and it was all Dean could do to keep his distance. For all he wanted to do was to march right up to that solemn figure and kiss him, touch him, hold him; make him writhe, pant and moan.
It seemed as if Castiel knew what he was thinking, what Dean was aching to do. The younger man's eyes widened, his hand plunked the glass onto the railing and didn't seem to care as the glass wobbled and toppled over the balcony to land in the shadows. Dean could see his chest rise and fall with every deep breath the prince took. Castiel's arms fell to the railing, and he knew he was effectively trapped. Dean looked out of the corner of his eye behind him, knowing if he walked over right at that moment; no human eye would be able to see them. It seemed as if no one- even in light of their victory- wanted to look outside and swell over their accomplishment, to see the sky-scape without the haunting specter of the Morning Star above them.
When Dean looked back, he caught the prince's even white teeth sink into his plump lower lip, and all the air punched out of his chest. He stalked towards Castiel, heard his minute gasp when Dean moved into his space. In one smooth motion, he fitted his hips against the prince's, grasped the back of his head firmly and slanted his lips against Castiel's. The moment their mouths touched, Castiel gasped again and Dean took that opportune moment to lick the roof of his mouth. He felt the young man in front of him shiver, felt his fingers digging into his back through his jacket and both of his shirts. His fingers twisted in the inky locks of the prince's thick hair, and plunged his tongue into the prince's mouth in a semblance of what he really wanted to do Castiel. He heard the soft sounds the young man made, and it only made him hotter, wanted so much more than just fumbles in the dark.
Dean pulled away, both of them panting and straining against each other. He pressed his cheek against Castiel's and rasped, "Please, god, tell me to stop. Tell me to stop right now and I will. I swear."
He felt Castiel trembling against him; his shapely calf long since wrapped itself around his knee, "Would you hate me if I asked you not to?"
"God no," Dean breathed.
The party was well underway, and the pilots were by all accounts, completely trashed. Maybe that was for the best, Sam smiled. He twirled the fragile glass in his hand, contemplating the amber liquid that swirled in its own tiny whirlpool. It was a long few days, and damned if Sam was tired. It was hard to believe that they hardly had any sleep, well…for Sam anyway. He had no trouble falling deeply asleep, but his brother was a completely different story. Dean could go for days without sleep, but then again, Sam had never been where Dean was.
If his father was alive, he would have a lot of questions to ask him, not to mention a punch in the face for putting that haunted look in his brother's eyes.
He was too young then to understand what was going on then, in their little family. Before he knew it, Sam and his brother were orphans staying with an old man hiding away in the Jundland Wastes on Tattoooine. Why? Sam didn't know, and no one ever told him. He was sure that Dean knew some of the mystery of their lives, but he never shared. It seemed that all of their lives, Dean was the one to protect Sam from the evils of the universe.
As he swigged the dregs from his glass he shrugged, it wouldn't help at the moment to think about how crapped up their lives were. Of course by now he was drunk as hell, and could give the three empty bottle of Alderaani wine as evidence. It took a lot to get a guy as big as Sam drunk, although he could admit that he was a light weight compared to his brother. He honestly couldn't say why he was currently getting drunk; he helped saved the day, did he not?
Sam had to go with not. It was his brother who convinced him to turn back, to help, so he could admit he was feeling a mite bit guilty for being such an ass. In his misguided way, all he wanted was to protect his brother. He knew it was wrong to get into his brother's business, but he didn't want to see him hurt. So what if Dean wanted something that seemed very dangerous to Sam? Who was Sam to get in the way of his brother's happiness? It would only cause more contention between them if he kept making his brother feel guilty, and kept starting fights over trivial things. From now on, he swore to stay out of his brother's business and just be there for him whenever he wanted or needed him. He highly doubted that Dean wanted or even needed him, much less wanted him around, but he wasn't going to just be a dick and abandon Dean like he threatened.
He wanted to talk to his brother about his new-found philosophy on life but unfortunately, at the moment, said brother was off trying to find Castiel to talk to him. Sam didn't really want to know the details, because he was sure that there wasn't going to be much talking. He could bet the Millennium Impala on that. He could try to find Jimmy, but he figured that he was the last person that Jimmy wanted to talk to.
He was about to just get up and bunk in his quarters in the ship, when a vision appeared across the room. She was petite, beautiful brunette; her dark eyes seemed to shine with mirth and mischief, especially when her kohl-rimmed eyes fell on him. For a second he was about to look behind him just to see who she was lavishing her attention on, but realized just in time that he was sitting against the wall. Unless she was just a big fan of old temple stone, in which case he was screwed.
He gulped as she slowly walked toward him, her hips swaying with each step, and man was he lost. The slit in her slinky black dress went all the way up to her shapely mid-thigh, Sam was sure that his eye was twitching. When she stopped in front of him, she smiled to show brilliant white teeth, "Hey tiger, is this a private party or can anyone join?"
"There is no emotion, there is peace," Jimmy spoke quietly. The Millennium Impala was the only place in which he could calm his roiling emotions and get some semblance of peace. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the balmy air from outside. Dean didn't necessarily feel okay with leaving the hatch open, but relented when Sam mentioned the last time he left it closed and Dean got drunk. It was needless to say that it was not a good day for the pilot.
He let his shoulders relax, and let the warm air with its sweet jungle perfume cloud his senses, "There is no ignorance, only knowledge." His voice deepened- slowed- and felt his mind spiraling deeper. When he first started meditation with Bobby, he thought it was a load of bull. He couldn't seem to quiet his mind, he fidgeted, and basically tested the limits of the older man's patience.
"There is no passion, there is serenity." He thanked the old man every minute, every hour, for his careful tutelage. He would have been lost without having some way to ease his grief. He missed the life he had lost, and felt guilty for every moment he spent wishing for some way out before they bought the droids. His aunt and uncle did the best they could, and he couldn't remember the last time he thanked them. The last words he said to them were far from grateful and full of frustration. He couldn't remember the last time he said he loved them.
He breathed out in a steady stream, letting that guilt go, "There is no chaos, there is harmony." He was brought back to the incident in the Morning Star's hangar. Torn with grief because of another person dying because of him, for finding out that his life was a lie and all along he had a brother, he ended the lives of a few Storm troopers, who were just men doing their jobs. He had blood on his hands that he wasn't sure would ever wash clean. At the moment, all he wanted was revenge, to give back the pain that he was feeling. He let it go now, there was no use hating himself for killing a few men when he destroyed a whole battle-station full of people.
"There is no," and at this he paused for the slightest moment, "death, there is the Faith." Faith that one day he would be reunited with his lost family and that he was sure were dead? Faith that he could help the ones he loved, could let them go if they too died? He couldn't imagine if Castiel died, he honestly didn't know what he would do then. He was forced to let Bobby go, was forced to let his aunt and uncle die, and was sure that if he were with them, he would be dead as well. Or worse, they could have seen he looked just like Castiel, and then he would have been in worse trouble.
He sighed, he could feel himself becoming more alert, and knew that his meditating was coming to an end. At least he felt a little more himself, felt less lost and overwhelmed. He felt ready for whatever else was going to come his way. He wasn't expecting to see the translucent image of Bobby sitting across from him.
"Holy crap!" He tried to get to his feet, but fell promptly on his backside, forgetting that his legs were folded in the first place. He scrambled backward until his back hit the metal wall of the ship.
"Are you done acting like an idgit?" He could see Bobby's scowl.
"Oh my god, you can talk," Jimmy's face was practically frozen in shock. Here the man was dead and talking to him, Jimmy never heard of anything happening like this before.
"Of course I can talk," Bobby growled, seemingly at the end of his patience. "You think I'm just sitting here for my health?"
"W-what are you sitting here for?" Jimmy asked warily.
"I need you to get Dean and Sam back to Tattooine, I'm leaving everything to them. There are some important things in that hut that they will need in the future."
"I understand that this is important to you," Jimmy began, "but why-"
Jimmy nodded. Bobby sighed inaudibly, "Because no matter how much I wish it was different, the boys can't see me. There is a possibility that Sam could, but he knows I'm dead, so therefore I'm gone. Dean won't see me, simply because he doesn't believe in our Faith. So it's up to you, kid."
"Do or do not, kid. There is no try," Bobby advised.