Lemme know what you think. Title is from a Sleepthief song. A/N 2: I cannot believe I forgot to mention the art piece that inspired this. To be fair, I posted this at 1 in the morning, but it's no excuse(especially since I remembered to on LJ).-bangs head on desk- Thank you, Eowy, for reminding me. It's called "Break the Spell" by artmetica on Livejournal.

h t t p : / / c o m m u n i t y . l i v e j o u r n a l . c o m / d e a n c a s t i e l / 2 4 1 5 0 4 6 . h t m l # c u t i d 1

Just remove the spaces. It's beautiful work; if you look, you'll be entranced.

It is a dark day when Gabriel finds his brother weeping at the altar. Castiel is Gabriel's favorite brother and he has hundreds of thousands of brothers, but none of them are quite like Castiel. The archangel lays a hand on Castiel's shoulder. His brother looks up at him with teary blue eyes and if the archangel were any bolder, he'd say Castiel is beautiful.

"What's wrong?" Castiel isn't prone to human emotions, doesn't cry over spilt blood or star-crossed lovers and so Gabriel has never seen his tears or his sorrow.

"Gabriel, I've been foolish." Pain spikes through him at his brother's tone; deep laced anguish and misery coats Castiel's voice.

"What could have happened to make you feel this way?" He knows Castiel; what sort of crime could he-

"I'm in love, Gabriel." More tears start falling now and Castiel brings his arm to his face to try and cover them. "I am in love with a man."

This makes the archangel pause. Cold Castiel? In love? "Does he know?" Any being, mortal or otherwise, would be lucky to have his brother's love.

"He rejected me. Told me with his pretty face to burn for my sin, that to love a man was to disgrace God." And his brother laughs, the sound almost mimicking a sob. "As if anyone can know that better than me."

"He's the fool, not you. Not you, Castiel." Gabriel wants to embrace him, wrap their wings together and spirit his brother home, to safety and comfort.

But Castiel is the most stubborn of all their Father's angels. "I want to be stone, Gabriel." His brother looks up at him with those eyes, those beautifully wounded eyes. "You have the power to make it so."

"Castiel, isn't it enough that Father loves you? That I love you?" It can be done; it wouldn't take much for the archangel to just snap his fingers and turn his brother into a statue. But to actually do it-

"If you truly loved me, Gabriel, you would see how much my Grace aches for him!" The most stubborn of all angels. "Do not make me suffer without him."

"I will grant you this, Castiel, Father help me, I will give you at least this." Gabriel wraps a hand in the angel's hair and leans down. "But if your true love comes for you, you will wake up." He kisses his brother's forehead. "I cannot live an eternity without you, Castiel."

With the snap of his fingers, his brother is made into a looming statue; his stony face directed upon all who step up to the altar. Gabriel looks up at him and takes flight, looking for vengeance on the man who broke his brother's heart.

1000 years later,

Dean of Winchester is cutting through a monster with his sword; across the field, his brother Samuel (also of Winchester) is burning the mate's body. He's a knight and this is a noble pursuit, but as he cuts off the beast's head, he sighs, thinking about how it doesn't bring him quite as many damsels as he had hoped.

"The deed is done. Perhaps now, we may rest?" Samuel stokes the flames higher and falls back with a sigh. "We've slain the beasts and the townspeople are sure to be hospitable." He says it with a wink and Dean would consider it, but-

There is something pulling him. A tugging at his heart and soul is pulling him down the road, past the town; his dreams keep rushing past the river and over the mountains and he has traversed them all to reach this point, but now it drives him onwards. His dreams show him an altar and a statue, of eyes that never lost their sorrow and lips that seem to whisper lamentations of love.

"Dean?" Samuel's been concerned; he's never seen his brother so determined.

"We rest only for a moment. We have to keep moving." The elder of the brothers rests his hands on the hilt of his sword, staring out into the forests.

"Do you know where your journey leads us?" Samuel's scowling; Dean doesn't even need to look to know that. Not that he could look away from the trees anyway. It's there.

"The forest." The breathy gasp draws his attention back to his brother. "What is it? Not afraid, are you?"

"Bigger monstrosities lurk in there, Dean, and what exactly are you searching for that warrants risking our lives? I have a wife and child to return to-"

"Then go." Dean's glaring at him now, stalking forward. "Go home without me. I'll move forward with or without you."

"Dean!" But his brother has already turned, moving towards the tree line. "Dean!" Samuel throws his hands up and follows, bounding after him, not noticing the beast's limb still moving beneath the blaze.

When Dean reaches the forest, he draws his sword, expecting an enemy. The old man he finds sitting on a stump isn't as dangerous as he thought.

"You dare wander this close to the forest, lad?" The old man puffs from the long wooden pipe, his raspy voice bitter.

"I dare venture into it if it is no trouble to you." Dean doesn't like being looked down upon; he's had enough of it growing up in Winchester where his mother was dead and his father a drunk.

"Braver men than most." He's too busy gazing into the darkness of the forest to catch the old man's inquisitive stare. "What are you looking for?"

"A statue. Have you seen it?" Dean turns back to the stranger.

"Only once." The old man's eyes are locked on the grass. "I couldn't look at it for long." Dean's about to ask why when the man cuts him off. "That much heartbreak could swallow a man's soul, lad. You'd do well not to search for it."

Samuel's looking between them, tempted to ask a question, but knowing it wouldn't be received well. His brother's expression is one of torment, but he can see the light there.

"And to suffer it alone is an even greater tragedy." The man jerks his head up to stare at Dean again and he stills, watching the knight. His expression softens.

"It's only a statue, lad." Dean turns his head and glares at him, his bright green eyes narrowed.

"Maybe to you. Samuel." His name is an order to follow and he moves to obey when the old man catches his arm.

"Heed the warning, boy. It won't do him any good to mourn stone. You should turn back." Samuel takes in the gray eyes and smiles.

"He's my brother. I'd follow him to the ends of the Earth if I had to." And with that, Samuel disappears into the black of the forest, drawing his sword.

"And that, poor Samuel of Winchester, may be where you're headed." The old man stands, tossing his pipe aside and throwing aside his tattered robes. 'But only if you're unworthy."

"Foolish, old man!" Dean pushes through the underbrush, ignoring the thorns that prick him. "How dare he tell us to turn back!"

"Dean, maybe he was right. We know not what lies ahead!" Samuel doesn't expect his brother to turn, to fix him with a face so full of anger and drive.

"I don't know what lies ahead, Sammy. I don't know what this forest holds for us. All I know is that I must keep moving. He's calling me and-" Dean stops, his eyes glittering with pain. "And he's so alone."

Samuel steps back and Dean turns, kicking aside another fallen branch in his quest. They push on for what may be hours when Dean stops. Samuel almost slams into the back of him and begins to protest when Dean's raised hand silences him. He follows his brother's captured gaze and then words escape him.

He thought Dean's dreams had been a jest at first, a folly, but the statue stands; the angel's gaze is as mournful as Dean described it. His brother drops his sword, stepping up the stone platforms.

"I've been searching for so long." Dean's reaching forward with one hand to brush against the marble cheek when the beast lunges for him, still alive from the fire and still very angry.

"Dean!" Samuel draws his sword, but he'll never reach him in time; he's to watch his brother die and that's when he sees the angel's eyes turn blue.

The light that sweeps through them is enough to force him to his knees; it destroys the monster entirely-it screams in agony as its ashes fall to the ground-, but his brother is unmoved, cupping his hand around the statue's neck. Dean closes his eyes and kisses stone lips, not knowing what to expect.

Perhaps he's destined to love a statue; maybe that's his curse for the barmaids and wives he's left in the middle of the night trying to fill the void he's felt since birth, that apparently only stone can fill.

But marble lips turn warm under his caress and when he pulls back with shock, the muscles under his hand coil and move trying to keep the contact. Blue eyes are gazing up at him with unshed tears.

"I've waited for you. I've waited for so long. " The angel's body is weak and he collapses into the knight's arms, but Dean can feel hands clutching at his shirt and he closes his eyes because he's here. He's dreamt for so long, but now-

"Shh, my love." Dean whispers against dark hair, marveling at its softness. "I have you now."

Samuel watches them with awe and tenderness; no one notices the forest shrinking around them or the old man that made it so with a snap of his fingers.

And that, my friends, is a fairytale worth telling.