Castiel is Tom Canty

After being arrested for trying to steal a loaf of bread (not sure if that's more Aladdin or Les Miserables) Castiel was brought before King Dean for his punishment. This is what happened next. A million thanks and praises to the original author. To give the reader a bit of grounding, I'm adding the last page of the original story. Otherwise one would be so completely lost!

The room Cas entered, was as big as the hut he and his sisters and brothers lived in. The furniture inside was the same expensive looking strong wood than the door was made of. There was a dresser on one side, overlooking a window to the courtyard. The bed was in the centre of the room with curtains on a rail around it, currently tied back. The bed itself could probably have fit four grown men on it, comfortably, It was draped with crimson coloured sheets and pillows which made a small sigh escape Castiel’s mouth. When was the last time he had laid a head on a soft surface? In the space between the dresser on the far right side and the centre, where the bed was, there was a recliner with a rug – also the same crimson colour. Beyond the bed, Castiel’s eyes bugged upon seeing a stage where sure enough King Dean was making his way to sit on the grandiose throne. Castiel swallowed. Scared was an understatement. His mouth was dry and he wished he would just melt into the floor. What had he deserved to be punished by the King himself?
“So thief, what were you trying to steal?”
Castiel’s heart galloped. The King was speaking to him. He was speaking to him. Panic was setting in, closing in and he thought he would die - but then a sharp command sliced through the fog in his head.
“Come here, kneel.”
He could do that. Castiel moved and found himself kneeling in front of the stage, facing the King but looking at his feet. “I’ll ask you again, and this time I require an answer.”
“Bread,” Cas whispered.
“Speak up, thief!” The King’s voice came out harsh, as if he was loosing patience. That was not good, the longer the King kept talking to him the further away his punishment would be. Castiel mustered as much courage as he could and spoke a decibel louder.
“Bread,” he uttered and watched as the King’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry,” he said, the apology tumbling out of his mouth without his consent.
“Just bread?”
…
Dean frowned, confused. Bread? Sure, stealing bread was a crime but people stole bread all the time. They were whipped by someone in the royal guard and that was the end of it. Why was he summoned to manage this particular thief?
“Just bread?” he inquired, leaning forward and watching the perplexity surround the boy.
“I-I-I, N-No, I m-mean, y-yes,” the boy stammered.
Dean raised an eyebrow at the boy and watched as once again the boy looked away. But now Dean was getting annoyed. Sam only came to visit a few times in the year and now this thief – whose only crime was to steal bread, probably judging by his figure, because he was hungry – had interrupted him and couldn’t even fess up without stammering. Dean decided a different tack, one he hoped would elicit some response from the boy.
“I’m going to punish you now, boy. Stealing won’t be tolerated in this Kingdom.” As predicted, the boy’s head shot up but instead of anger in his azure eyes, there were tears. But it was the first time the boy had looked directly at him and in his entire life, Dean had not felt so moved. A strangled sob shocked Dean out of his gaze and he remembered who the little boy really was. A thief – albeit just bread.
“No point in crying now. Take your punishment and we can forget this incident.” The boy’s whole body seemed to sag. That wasn’t acceptable. Punishment was a form of toughening up and strangely he almost wished that the boy had been tough enough to overthrow his captors and actually manage to steal the damn bread. Time to start the toughening act now. “Address me properly when I speak to you.” He barked out, and begin rising from his throne. Hoping that the boy wouldn’t disobey, but blessedly he heard a gasped ‘Yes, your majesty,’ in the space between him and the kneeling boy.
“Good,” he said smoothly and went to stand behind the boy. “I am glad that you are not a disobedient thief. One crime is bad enough.”
“Yes, your majesty,” a slight break in the voice.
“What is your name, thief”
“It is Castiel, your majesty”
Castiel. Strange name for a strange thief. Dean shook his head and resisted the sudden unsettling urge he had to envelope the boy in a soothing embrace.
“Stand up, Castiel. It is time for your punishment. A whipping should suffice.”
Dean moved back as Castiel began standing, the shaking of his limbs obvious and quite alarming.
In a manner very unlike that of a King, Dean reached out an arm and steadied the shaking boy. “Breathe. Easy now, its just a whipping. You’ve had worse, I’m sure.”
At that Castiel’s eyes met his and for a moment neither spoke. Then Castiel looked away, his shaking worsened as he replied, “No, your majesty, I have not.”
Once again, wrong footed and slightly unsettled, Dean replied in his normal authoritative voice.
“Well, there’s always a first time for everything.

Without prompting Castiel grabbed the edge of his tunic and pulled it over his head. Now bare-chested, he waited for directions from the king.
“Over the arms of the recliner, I suppose.”
Castiel nodded his head deeply, grateful he hadn't had to ask aloud.
King Dean delivered ten straight smooth strokes against the thief's back. No teasing, no questions, no words. Then he stepped back.
Sensing his punishment was over Castiel righted himself. He turned his head away, refusing to look the king in the face. “Forgive me, I have failed you.”
“How did you fail me? I'd say you bore that well.” The king replied immediately. Castiel did not respond. Indeed he gave no sign he had even heard the prince. He kept his sad eyes to the floor.
“Wait.” King Dean began, realization blooming. “Who are you talking about?” The thief shook his head in quick, jerking movements. Dean's sharp voice returned, although a little softer. “Castiel I insist upon being answered. Who are you apologizing to?”
“My sister, Adorabelle.” He raised his head, looking near the top Dean's chest. “She's sick. She is home. Alone. Sick.” Castiel applied force to every word. It was such a stark contrast to the soft, weak tones he'd used up tot hat point that for a moment the king stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “She needs me. Everything I do is for her. I can't help thinking it would have been kinder if you had thrown me in shackles. At least then I wouldn't have to face her.”
“The bread you were trying to steal, it was for her.”
Castiel did not answer, not verbally. Instead he looked his king directly in the eyes.
“Please you majesty, let me bring back *something* for her. I don't care what the cost, you can *whip* me again if you wish. How could I look her in the face knowing I had failed her?”
“Put your shirt back on, and sit by the stage.” The king ordered. He all but slammed a summoning bell with its hammer. When the servant rushed in, eyes forward, head titled down, she barely had time to curtsy before Dean barked his order. “A large, fine meal in 20 minutes. And a launderer's basket. Or better, a of hunters bag.” The servant girl bowed and withdrew.
Castiel sat beside the stage as instructed by his king, who it seemed was making a concentrated effort to ignore him. He was far too confused to speak.
The meal was delivered on a serving cart and for the first time in what seemed like hours, the King turned to look at his miscreant guest.
“Come here. Come.” He commanded sharply. Castiel hurriedly obeyed. Choose what you want.” Castiel pulled his hand over his mouth. Figuring he couldn't fault the man for his reaction, Dean began selecting fruits, various cuts of meat and at least 2 small loaves of bread from the table. Placing them in the hunters sacks he pulled from the underside of the cart.
“Here.” he held the sack full of food out to Castiel. “Take this to your sister. Share it with her. And don't let me catch you in the palace again unless it is as a guest.”
Castiel threw himself to his knees. He pulled took the king's hand and kissed it, three times. “Thank you your Majesty.” He cried, tears of joy rather than sorrow flowing down his cheeks. “By God thank you.”

Castiel knew the way home. He did his best not to run every step. He knew running would make him look like a thief. And who exactly could believe he hadn't stolen the food he now carried slung over his shoulder? He imagined his sisters face when he showed her what the prince had given them. And wondered if he could bring himself to tell her it was from the prince.

Merlin and Arthur Loose the Secret

 I mean loose. Morganna finally learns the truth and Merlin laughs in her face.

“That gives me some comfort then. It's nice to have a fellow stranger as a friend.”

...This statement from his friend made NO sense to King Arthur. That Merlin's gifts might make him feel like an outsider was a reality he would be hard-pressed to refute. But what made him think Sasha was a 'fellow stranger' and what exactly did that phrase even mean? When Merlin had asked about 'Sophia or Sasha' he didn't seem to notice that they were two separate people. How much of Merlin's conclusion was based on his returned memory, and what was the wizard only making guesses at?

'I've got to stop thinking like that.' The young king chastened himself. If the past hour had taught him nothing else, it was how right he had been to call the other man 'old friend' in the first place.

“Arthur you know that feeling I get for no apparent reason?”

“And 9 of 10 times you're proven right? Yes, why?”

“One word: Duck.”

Arthur instead threw himself backward to the ground. This gave him a clear view of a roughly hewn weapon frozen in mid air above his head. Rightly assuming it was Merlin's magic that stopped the weapon, and fervently hoping Merlin had caught a glimpse of the assailant, Arthur raised his head.

“Nothing Human.” Merlin replied in response to the inquisitive look his liege had given him. “Had two legs and weird looking skin though, sickly green.”

“Merlin, go after it and, however you can do, silence it.” Arthur order sparked no outward surprise or joy or fear. Rather Merlin's face was pale and blank as he tossed the King a stone as blue as a robin's egg and about three times as big, and rushed off through the woods after...the assailant.

“Knocked it out.” Merlin whispered as he sank down next to Arthur a few minutes later.

“Merlin. You told me you wouldn't ask me to make magic acceptable by law...” Merlin looked up at him. “Shouldn't we shut up and move on?” A flicker of understanding passed over Merlin's face. “Unless you have a way to deal with this, beyond avoiding the issue?” Arthur continued.

“Actually, I think I do.” He put his hands out in front of him at equal height. “With permission?” Arthur nodded curtly. Merlin pulled his right hand higher, palm up and pushed his left hand lower, palm down. “It's a cloak of silence to make an appearance of sleep. But it won't last very long.”

“Alright I guess. What's this jewel do?” Arthur's first question actually seemed to surprise Merlin.

“It was to let me know if whatever the creature was had circled back...If you were in any danger.”

“I think I'll swallow whatever I was going to say and insist you speak the question in your throat.”

“...Who was, or is, Sir Leon?”

“I can honestly say I wasn't expecting that Merlin. He's a knight who keeps to himself most of the time but has been a knight of Camelot longer than any of his fellows around the table of the ancient kings.”

“The Knights of the Round table. Glad to know I wasn't making that up! But do I really know him. Rather, does he really know me?”

“As far as I know Merlin, NO ONE else knows of your abilities...except Gwaine now.”

“But...would he understand it? He told me he and I really needed to talk. Has he learned it himself? I guess I better answer these on my own huh?”

“I'd say so my friend. But remember your promise to me.” Merlin's head jerked up. Arthur pointed to his left and raised his brow. Merlin nodded slowly. “What else is going on in that head of yours?” The King continued as though there were absolutely nothing strange going on.

“Do I know anyone names Sasha or Sophia?”

Arthur actually started. “Quite well, I think.”

“Duck, duck goose!” Merlin yelped, thoroughly yanking Arthur's mind back to the present moment.

Arthur sprinted to his forward left while Merlin bounded to his immediate right. Whatever the creature was chased after the young king. Almost before he knew it Arthur was engaged, sword to claws with a scaly two legged and otherwise indefinable creature. 3 minutes later the creature was lying on his stomach with a sword in its back. It was only after crouching over the dying...thing, for several moments that Arthur realized what had happened at all. Merlin had pulled himself to the right in order to circle back, unnoticed, and had used his own sword as a dagger. Engaged as they had been fighting each other, neither combatant had noticed his presence. Which of course is what the young man had intended all along.

“There's not much more I can say.” Merlin told Arthur as they remounted their horses. Arthur turned his head sharply to the left and right. “You get the feeling we're not alone?”

“There's something watching us yes. Not a warrior though.”

“How can you know that?”
“It would have attacked by now if it were. And it wouldn't be hiding itself so well.”

“I can't argue with you there...I don't suppose...” Arthur's suggestion went unfinished.

“I would seriously rather not.”

“Well something tells me it'll be needful before the end.” Arthur stated offhand.

Merlin's heart and head both seemed to drop as he replied. “Yeah, probably.”

“These visitors puzzle me Milady.” The wispy creature told it's mistress.

“Oh? How so?” Morganna replied curiously.

“At once they need something from each-other and need nothing at all.”

“Did you observe my creatures attempt?” Morganna replied dismissing the assessment. “How would you assess our strangers?”

“The warrior is a capable. The younger man is...shrouded. I cannot say anything more for certain.”

“You have done your part. You may return to your rest.”

“...With thanks Milady.”

A few minutes later Merlin and Arthur had stood up from their own respite and decided to continue a longer journey. It was a shared belief that their expedition would be far more intense and worthwhile than either of them could have predicted. They had no idea how right and wrong they were.

“Welcome Brother to MY domains.” Morganna said behind them, holding the reins of a black horse.

“I wish I could say 'glad to see you' but obviously it isn't so I'll not waste my breath.” Arthur replied.

“What do you want from us?” Merlin stated steadily.

“Oh I think you're wise enough to figure that out old friend...old sage that you are and everything.”

“Merlin...Is she honestly trying to tell us...?”

“If so, she is both right and wrong.” Merlin replied stoically.

“I saw you Merlin. I saw the real you, and you have yet to show your lord?”

“Morganna, this is bordering on true hilarity. Or would if I let myself get caught up in my memories. But you're wrong. This is the real me...THIS,” He continued yanking Morganna closer to them, dropping her on the ground. “Is just what I can do. None of you have ever seen that straight.”

“You always were a fool Merlin.”

“Strange. You didn't say that at Ealdor...or with the druid boy...you even acknowledged that I was responsible for dethroning you! Does that sound like the work of a fool?”

Morganna turned her head toward Arthur, expectation evident in her eyes. “You saw him for yourself, you saw his true self with your own eyes. My job here is done.”

Arthur smiled. “Morganna, I already knew. And I agree with him, you've both succeeded and failed.”

“You knew? You've had a wizard for a servant and you were fine with it?! I suppose the extra help..”

“E-nough.” Merlin stated in a stronger and more confident voice than either of them had heard from him. “Morganna. I owe you a debt of gratitude but that only goes so far. You yourself were responsible for Arthur's discovery. When you took my memory from me, I used my abilities for my normal work...I didn't remember that I wasn't allowed to. Magic is punishable by death even now and Arthur didn't even throw me in prison. That's what I meant when I told you I'd seen Arthur's...deserving...more clearly than before. And for the past three weeks I've never failed to see the irony of owing my new found freedom to the one person who would snatch all freedom from me...I thank you for it, either way.”

“You can't exactly bind me up and take me back under lock and key can you?” Morganna asked her brother, who shook his head wearily.

“I'm not stupid enough to try it or coldhearted enough to want to.” Arthur answered.

“Arthur, I suggest you let me do ONE spell and the three of us line up to go back to Camelot.” The young wizard said reluctantly.

“Arakei-notsath--” Morganna began

“Don't disapparate!” Merlin warned her sternly. Morganna looked at him with a clear challenge in her eyes. One HE took as a question. “The spell I did when I saw you here either binds you on the left hand path, which now it comes to it is exquisitely appropriate...or simply nullifies your powers. I don't think you want to risk either one of those. And you know I'm not one to make up these threats.”

“You can't keep me bound up forever.” Morganna said tersely.

“Nor would I presume to try.” Merlin replied at once. “But for now, let's get back home.”

“Tell me one thing Arthur.” Morganna said bitingly as the walked their respective horses back toward Camelot. “What is it about your servant that trumps your sister?”

Arthur didn't bother looking behind himself as he answered. “The difference Morganna is that he doesn't lord his powers over people, or use them to take what he pleases. He sincerely tries to help, to protect Camelot ...and me.” He finished gently. “And Merlin what are you up to?”

“Are you really as thick as all that brother?” Morganna taunted the King.

“I know he dampened your powers Morganna. I want to know for what purpose?”

“...Until you decide what to do.” Merlin responded slowly. Arthur didn't know what to think or to say. A situation that made Morganna's face brim with pleasure and anticipation. But Merlin's face and head both fell. “Arthur, what is the one thing I've always tried to tell you to do?”

“...To trust in myself.” Arthur replied slowly.

“I trust your judgment. I always have and I still do.”

“You really are a boot-licking coward Merlin.” Morganna's taunt rang in Merlin's mind. But for once he didn't care that no one else could hear it. He responded aloud anyway, without stopping his horse.

“For once I won't deny that most of you have been mostly right about me.” Merlin began slowly. “But as usual all of you have missed the point. If I am half of what you, your sister and Si-gen have called me, it's because I choose to be so. It IS better to serve Arthur than rule with you...or worse become like you.” He stopped and turned to his Liege. “Arthur what do you think should be done?”

The King stopped his horse and turned to face his friend. “Get her away from me and come back to Camelot. You and I have more to discuss than we thought.”

“I believe I can help you there.” A gentle voice whispered. The blue misty creature that had spied on them was back. One look at the face it had made of itself told them not to draw weapons or anger against it.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked it politely.

“I can carry the essence of who she is far from here. As yet it's inside her body, so that comes too. She's my mistress; no harm or discomfort can come to her by my will. Doesn't mean I can't take care of her.”

Morganna looked as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing.“You called me your mistress. What does that mean to you?”

“Honestly mistress, I was about to ask you that.” The wispy entity said in a mock concerned voice.

“You are meant to obey me!” Morganna shrieked. “That is what I asked of you and you agreed.”

“Not so. You made me promise to help and to follow you. Which is what I have been doing. I have more recently seen however that helping you and obeying you...no longer go hand in hand.”

“I'm glad someone finally realized.” Merlin whispered after the souls vanished from his sight. He looked at his friend and lord. “That following her and following her orders aren't always the same thing.”

“How long have you known that truth of the matter?” King Arthur asked his friend in a dazed voice.

“Morganna wanted to rule alone.” Came the calm and withdrawn answer, in a voice so monotone it would sound artificial to some ears. “She wanted to right the wrongs done her and her kind by your father and in that name she carried out her plans. Following her orders and her plans is one thing, actually working toward that goal is something else entirely...Trust me I should know.”

It took several moments for the stunned look on King Arthur's face to see past his servant and into the eyes of the young woman who had spoken and was standing on the other side of his friend. Her light blue top and dark blue trousers left little doubt as to who she was, even if her voice and face hadn't already told him.“I don't doubt that Merlin knows most of that stuff.” The woman continued calmly. “Or would if he remembered them. I thought it was time I laid out that particular difference for all to see.”

“It's good to see you again Sasha.” Merlin stated with a quiet joy in his voice.

“You also Merlin.” The woman replied. “I'm also glad everything-almost everything has come around the bend to itself.” She paused and looked at Arthur, as though unsure he would welcome her input.

“If you have anything more to say Sasha, now's the time to say it.” Arthur responded blithely.

“I once gave Morganna a meal to eat. It was for her own good and in a time of development and formation. That probably won't mean anything to either of you. And to shorten the tale, by the time she came to the throne she was so far consumed with personal vengeance I had not the power to recreate the meal...not by any means short of going into the kitchen, finding the foods and cooking it. My powers didn't work her will anymore, only for her good. And she didn't want anything of that. Of course any other order she gave me I was physically capable of doing. Claiming hereditary ruler-ship she was owed my obedience, as much as Uther was or you would have been. But she had not from me respect, nor loyalty and certainly not friendship. I'm as glad as you are Merlin that this distinction is recognized. And I think you know where I'm going with this.” She told the wizard gently. He nodded sadly. “Then I should stay by your side until you come to Camelot, and the rest of it I place equally in your equally capable hands... and judgments.”

As soon as they had come to the castle, Merlin bounded away from his friends, for once not asking if it was alright or telling them what he was doing. Sasha stood looking after him with a kind smile on her face.

“You really care for him, don't you?” Arthur pondered aloud as he observed her gaze.

“Sire, let's go someplace out of the way, then we can have this talk. I understand how overdue it is.”

Arthur let go of the reins of his horse and silently followed his enigmatic friend up the stairs of the castle. He had assumed they were heading for his own chambers, but learned otherwise when she took a left rather than a right at the top floor. He quickly found himself in a small room with nothing but a bed and small table with two wooden chairs. She quickly sat down in one chair and naturally he took the other.

“Merlin is my first friend.” She stated in a withdrawn voice. “He is the one for whom and because of whom I have returned as often as I have. When I'm not sure how to...what I should or should not do or say, I try to see things from his perspective. And yes, I've always known what you have most recently discovered. But I felt it should be up to him to tell you, an admission, not a confrontation. And to explain my previous comment, about things almost coming full circle...You are King. Morganna is no threat to anyone in the five kingdoms. The prophecy which entered your sisters dreams, first caused the aging spell and nearly brought revelation. Gweneviere is Queen, in truth if not in name. I realize Uther did die at the hand of Emrys. But surely you see that it was not his fault? He did everything he could but the charm worked well.” She smiled faintly at the look of surprise on Arthur's face. “Aggrivane hated your father. He placed a charm around his neck that was bound on the left hand path. Thus, the healing spell our mutual friend tried to perform, had the opposite effect. You, and Merlin each have a final promise to fulfill. I have told you yours as near as anyone could. If you can fulfill your solemn word. I hope you know...”

“Yeah...I remember.”

“...Then Merlin should be able to fulfill his pledge.” Sasha finished as though uninterrupted.

Ten minutes later Merlin walked up to Sir Leon and invited him on an evening trot through the woods.

“What about simply retreating to some quiet corner of the castle?” Sir Leon counter-suggested. They walked silently to the northern most room on the third level of the castle. Sir Leon quickly shut the door. “I realize I am the one who predicted this discussion. But I have no idea where to begin it.”

“Do you know why Arthur is apparently so mad at me?” Merlin responded quickly.

“I didn't know he was. But if it has anything to do with what's been going through MY mind recently, then yes, I know why...Which I assume is what you were actually asking me about?”

That this was a request, not an assumption or simple statement was not immediately evident to Merlin.

“What's happened between us? Is that secret what came between us that we are distant?”

“Merlin, what are you talking about?! You and I have never been close, not distant either, just not close.”

“Then how do you know?” Merlin replied with something between shock and incredulity in his voice.

“I figured it out. You didn't tell me. But the burden was too much for me to bear, so you took it from my mind. The memory was nothing but a dream to me, until this incident. Whatever happened to you is probably like what happened to me...though with a different cause.”

“I took your memory from you?”

“It was at my own pleading. I couldn't keep it from Arthur – I didn't trust myself to hide what I knew.”

It wasn't all of the truth nor was it entirely true of itself. But though nearly a stranger, Leon was a good judge of character and timing. He saw that naming another friend Merlin should know, and likely would not recognize, was not the wisest course of action to take. So he gave Merlin the joy of believing that he himself had granted the knight's request. The rest of it WAS true.

“...What happens now?” Merlin requested placidly. It was the only thing he could think to say.

“Arthur has accepted this I take it?” Leon replied quickly.

“What I am, yes. But I don't think he'd accept that any one else would have enough of a reason to keep it from him. I'm going to give you the same advice I received: be yourself, whatever that means.”

“I'm not going to breathe a word of this to anyone, except maybe Gaius. He'll be able to fill in the gaps.”

A strange look came into Merlin's eyes as Sir Leon finished this statement. “...that wasn't a reference to...”

“I realize that. And my memory is returning quite quickly. I just don't like the feeling that we'll become any sort of closer friends, because of something that never should have happened.”

“Merlin. I'm honestly not sure what to say to that. But I am glad for you and Arthur. I'd wager things will be more relaxed between you now.”

“I agree with you there. And actually I think we're both wrong about that.” Sir Leon looked thoroughly confused. “You should speak everything you know or guess to Arthur.”

“Merlin,” The knight began. “I've never known you to refrain from honest open speech. But this seems even more...Open booked, that what's normal for you...I'm just wondering what could cause this change in you.” Leon explained casually.

“That one is simple, I'm more free now than I've been since...since Sir Lancelot first came and left.”

“Well I have to give you the point there.” The knight replied, and with a polite bow, he withdrew to leave Merlin alone with his thoughts.

Arthur summoned Merlin to the great hall at Breakfast the next morning. When he walked through the double doors the first thing he saw was that Sir Leon, Gwaine and Elyan were there, the three of them sitting in chairs to his forward-left in some sort of triangle. Gaius, Arthur and Guinevere were there as well, sitting in the same formation, but to his forward-right. Merlin did the only thing that made sense to him and sat down between Sir Leon and Guinevere, joining the two branches of people into a curved, line.

“Alright, I'm going to assume this isn't a farewell party.” Merlin quipped. “But what's going on?”

Arthur smiled kindly. “I just thought you'd like to examine the latest bit of legislation to be drafted.” He passed Merlin a rolled up piece of parchment. “It was not an easy challenge, without my scribe.”

Merlin unrolled the decree, took one glance at its contents and flushed purple. “I'm fully expecting to wake up now.” He stated firmly, but quietly.

“Not this time old friend.” Gwaine stated with a small smile.

“Why Arthur?” Was all that escaped Merlin's mouth.

“...Because I promised you that I would do so.” Arthur replied, seeming surprised at the question. “I told Emrys that I would declare toleration if not acceptance of Magic, and I've seen for myself that you did all you could. It's time I held up my end. Don't worry. I told them everything that you and Sir Leon told me. We agree that some of these laws might be a little out-dated.”

Merlin looked like he didn't know what to feel or think. It was several seconds before he verbally responded to any of it. “Alator.” He whispered.

Five confused faces stared at him. One was stunned. “What has he to do with any of this?” Gaius asked.

“This is the day that many have longed for. And I owe it to Alator to tell him personally. Arthur please, let me go find him.” Arthur simply nodded. Merlin bowed and withdrew...not looking at anyone.

“Gaius...who was he talking about?” King Arthur asked of the physician in as firm and calm a voice as one would wish to hear.

“Something that really wouldn't have made sense to me a few days ago.” Gaius replied at once. “And someone I haven't thought of since...Since I was kidnapped.” This got the attention of everyone in the group. “I'm glad we're all still sitting, you'll feel the need for it by the time this story is over.”

“Who's Ala-tor?” Gwaine puzzled aloud.

“Morganna hired him to get information out of me.” Gaius began slowly. “What I told you when I got back was true Arthur, but far from the total truth. Morganna knew the wizard Emrys was a threat to her. But had only seen him AS a wrinkled old man. She saw the wizard at her hideout, as he destroyed the creature that had burned it's way into Merlin's mind...she concluded that I had sent...this wizard there to destroy it and save Merlin's life. And therefore I knew who he was.”

“...Which is why you were kidnapped at all. Aggrivane knew that you'd hide your knowledge of Emrys and that I'd misjudge what you were hiding.” Arthur said as the reality settled into his heart.

“Alator has very effective methods of getting to the truth buried in one's heart.” Gaius agreed.

“Wait, is Merlin safe going to Alator then? I mean does he know the truth of it?” Elyan asked at once.

Gaius simply nodded in response.

“I don't understand.” Arthur stated, confused. “You said that Morganna got nothing from you?”

“SHE didn't.” Gaius replied curtly. “Alator learned everything I knew about Emrys, including his other name. But that's not what meant the most to him. What mattered to him, in his heart was the future that Emrys is said to bring. His destiny is both vague and certain. He is to unite the five kingdoms into one people, and join the old ways with the new. And together you both have taken steps to accomplish this.”

“It's far from finished if that's true.” Sir Leon stated in a tone of which they could make nothing.

“Merlin's not thinking of Albion.” Gaius said. “Not expressly anyway. He wants Alator to know that he'll no longer be shunned and hunted for what he is. For what he's done, maybe. But not for his powers.”

“Gaius. Do you honestly hold this man no grudge?” Gwaine asked of the old physician. “I mean when I found you in that cave, you were barely breathing.”

“I believe people should be permitted to show who they truly are and make up for their past errors.” Gaius replied calmly. “That whatever Merlin told him, whatever they told each-other, they meant every word. If Merlin promised Alator to tell him when this freedom comes, he should be allowed to do so.”

“...Alator and Emrys, are safe by my word.” Arthur stated firmly. “Someone who knows her, please tell Sasha she can have the room at the highest, northern edge of the castle...if she still chooses to stay.”

Batman and Superman with a Twist

 (STILL missing the ending)

Batman stood over Superman, his foot on the alien's throat. Superman looked, soft... weak. Then again, that's what kryptonite did to him, made him vulnerable. “You were never a god. You were never even a man.“

“Don't let her die.“ Superman gasped.

“What are you talking about?“ Batman demanded angrily.

“Please, save her.“ Superman begged. It was plain this woman meant the world to him.

For a moment, Batman hesitated. “Your own death a heartbeat away and you plead for her life?“ He took his foot off Superman's throat but kept the spear at his face. “Why?“

“You're afraid of me. You hate me for what I am__or what you think I did. So be it. I'd fight you to the death for her freedom and I will surrender to you for the same reason.“

“You are strange, for a Kryptonian.“

“I told you before Bruce – we are not all like him.“

“How did you...?” But then he knew. For he remembered something.

“Superman may be a strange visitor from another planet. But at least he's trying to help. And he's not terrorizing people to send a message.“

“Criminals.“ Bruce Wayne said definitively.

“Not just criminals Mr. Wayne. I've been to Gotham. Ordinary citizens live terrified of the bat vigilante. He thinks he's above the law.“

“And you're star-spangled alien friend doesn't?“

“I'm sorry?“ Clark replied, trying to contain his surprise.

“Just that every time Metroplois...the Daily Planet's hero saves a cat out of a tree you write a fluffy editorial about him...an alien who, if he wanted to could burn the entrie place to the ground. There wouldn't be a damn thing we could do to stop it.“

“Superman--we don't know anything about him. But we have no reason to assume he's evil incarnate.“ Bruce stared at him, silently as if expecting him to realize the fallacy of what he'd said. “So in your view all humans are like Hitler? All Americans are Richard Nixon?“

“I'm saying he's not human. And if there is even a chance he's like that psychopath (Zod) in any way, we have to be able to defend ourselves.“

Batman stumbled backward. “...Clark. Clark Kent?“ Superman nodded miserably. Batman stumbled backward his head spinning. With one heave he threw the spear away.

Superman stood up slowly, getting his balance. “I take it this means you no longer want to cut me open and play with my insides?“ He said, rubbing his throat gently. Batman stared, his mouth frozen open. “Look, all I care about right now is that you and Lex have a friend of mine hostage. You help me rescue her, we'll call it even.“

“You are as wrong about me as I was about you. I would never take hostages.“

“She's the prize and price. Lex arranged this for you. A chance for you to end my life and for me to save Nikita's. I meant it when I said I would fight you to the death –my death at least– for her. I wouldn't BE here otherwise.“

“Clark, I honestly have no idea who you're talking about.“

Superman looked searchingly into Bruce's eyes. For a tenth of a second. Realization dawned on his face. "Lex you son of a bitch.“

Batman did not feel particularly inclined to argue with him.

“Would it be cliché to say 'let's end this.'?“ Batman asked glibly.

“Cliché, but appropriate.“ Superman answered.

Arias: Discovering Connections

 In which Jeremiah and Sarrin learn they have far more in common than they think.

In Which Lt. Non and General Astra search for one family member and learn of another.

In which a very frank conversation between three friends at the D.E.O changes the world.

Chapter Text

Jeremiah walks into Sarrin's room. She is clearly somewhere else in her mind. Not frantic, but completely and totally in another room and another time. She sits on the floor and her eyes slowly become present.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.”
“Jeremiah you never have to apologize to me for something like that. I like being able to share. It's in my nature to have very thin boundaries.”
“In that case, it didn't seem like you were caught up in a memory.”
“That's one gift of my people. What we see in our minds eye, if we work at it, is as real to us as the physical world.”
“Are you like Xavallens then?”
“You know about Xavallens?” Jeremiah simply nods. “You've met one before?”
“Is it really that rare? Are they really that rare?”
“It's rare to meet one anymore. Let alone for someone on a planet tucked in its own little corner of space to have met -if I'm hearing the missing notes correctly got to know- one. Their home-world was destroyed almost 300 years ago. Most of them are nomadic. But some have established themselves as minorities on a few other planets. And three thousand years ago Atraxi, Enkarens and Xavallens were one species on one planet, one continent even. The Enkarens left for the distant shores and spent so much time among themselves... it's why they look so much like themselves: they didn't have anyone else to procreate with. We went to Thelia and Atridia, neighboring continents and were still very much part of each-others lives. That's why my people and Xavallens look so much like each-other. By the time any of us reached for the stars, Enkarens didn't look like us anymore. They looked like...well they literally were a concentrated version of what all of us had been. I'm not sure how literally to take the story but it is TRUE. No one knows exactly when we reached for the stars, or even if we left together. The races my people found must have been a lot like our own because our genes haven't faded.” She brushed the turquoise fish scales at her temples. “It's the one external difference between my people and Xavallens. We figure genetically it's a sign of genes hat have gone dormant in Xavallens. And the greater of our powers along with it.”
“Okay, not sure what you mean there, Nikita had powers.”
“Nikita, male or female?”
“Female.”
“Well Xavallens are still low-level empaths, but it really is diluted compared to us. I'm not being mean I'm letting you know that my people are intense, immediate empaths. Any person in the room affects us, and we feel everything as if it was a part of us. I feel crap as if it were my own.” She rubbed her right wrist with her left hand. “Xavallens sense things, we experience them. I don't mind experiencing what you and J'onn give me. And J'onn's mental abilities allow him to put up certain barriers so I don't sense everything about him all at once. Even when it's not bad or unpleasant it's overwhelming.” She lay on her stomach as if settling down with a good book.
“I take it those abilities are enhanced or amplified in the Enkaren genome now?”
“How do you mean?”
“You said Enkarens were the extreme of themselves—yourselves. And if all of you had the genetics for these abilities...”
“Yes, you are right. Outside of my people and Xavallens, Enkarens aren't recognized as having anything to do with us. They have this ability that is known as traumatic hypnosis. An Enkaren can absolutely make you believe that whatever surroundings they feed into your minds eye is real. A more intense version of what I was doing when you walked in here.”
“Would a half-breed still maintain these abilities?”
Sarrin stared at him. “A half-breed Enkaren? If the other half is a compatible species.”
“What about half-human?”
“No one would try that. No one bothers with Earth.”
“Are we truly such a in-the-middle-of-nowhere planet in the cosmos?”
“Well, no so much. It's more your rationality... which is not the right word. How you think of yourselves as being alone in the cosmos and how much we would have to prove that we are at least your equals. Some of us, like my people or Euphorians, can mostly blend in here. But J'onn in his native form. Well let's just say if he couldn't look more human than he does, he'd never leave his house in the morning."
“Are we really so backwards, so tucked into our own little corner of the universe, that everyone else avoids us?”
“You mean why would a few members of a nomadic race not settle on Earth?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“I imagine they would but again, they look like you. I mean they look as much like you as Kryptonians don't they? And she certainly would not have had any externally discernible powers that would draw your attention. How did you know what race Nikita even was?”
"Because every single time she met someone new she would put her left hand to her heart, fingers spread apart and say 'my name is Nikita. I'm Xavallen." But I have no idea what it means." He found himself struck by another thought. “You compare them to Kryptonians specifically.” Jeremiah said in a strange voice.
“I was born on their planet.”
Jeremiah's face went completely slack. Sarrin's expression became withdrawn.
“I take it you have some bad memories of that place?” Jeremiah said finally.
“You take it In-correctly.” Sarrin replied. “I was still a child when I left. And most of my memories of that place are actually pretty decent. It is a noble memory, not a sad one that gives my face this look.” She picked up the clipboard from under the coffee table and began drawing. “I was 8 years old when my mom and I fled the planet. Here.” She handed Jeremiah the clipboard. With a single symbol, drawn in purple. “I've never been much of an artist but someone wearing this symbol broke the law saving my mother and I.”

(Larger than normal Superman symbol with elongated S)

Jeremiah picked up a darker pen and began drawing a symbol on the clipboard.
“Are you sure it wasn't something like this?

(Proportionate Superman symbol with properly placed 'S')

“What in the name of whatever God you believe in.”
“I have an adopted son. When he was 12 years old he found a small trunk filled with things from his past. Including a one-piece suit with this symbol on it, like a breastplate. Can you tell me what it means?”
"It's his family crest.” Notes the confusion on Jeremiah's face. “Kryptonian family units are Houses...the lesser houses would wear thier symbols on the cuff of thier shirts, near the wrist. The 'nobler' houses would wear them on their chest." Sarrin looked away, clearly saddened by the memory. "Trying to leave the planet had been declared 'inciting panic based on groundless suspicions'...until the day the skies tuned red and the ground beneath us began to shake. My people were...unimportant. Pushed to the side during the evacuation. Someone wearing that symbol helped my mother and I on one of the transports. But he stayed behind. I didn't recognize the crest. I never learned his name."
“My son's Kryptonian name is Kal-El. It was in the message.”
“A son of the house of El. That's comforting...somehow.”

“If it's me you want, take me. I make myself your prisoner, willingly. Just please, don't hurt her anymore.”

(Declaration of intent for the scene; not dialogue)

“No, leave her alone!” Jeremiah cried. He reached up and was faced with guns from two alien soldiers. “Take me, please.”
“We cannot let her go. We cannot risk her running back to her superiors..”
“Her friends.” Jeremiah corrected automatically. “She has no 'superiors'. Only friends and fellows. One particularly close friend.” A second solider stepped forward. Is that you?"
Jeremiah shook his head sadly. "Well, how close are we to her friends?”
“I won't betray them. And I will not let Sarrin out of my sight.”
“Then you're coming too. Which direction is their camp? Hopefully we will be going the other way.” Jeremiah hesitated.
Sarrin stood. “Jeremiah. They are sincere. And more determined than violent. I don't think they have any interest in Arias.”
The first solider nodded. “I can assure you that much is true. I am to bring you to our superior. Come. Now.”
Jeremiah stood, and watched Sarrin be blindfolded. “You, up here. Your friend will be safe with Jarron Dax.” There did not seem to be anything to do but fall in line with this order.

“We should learn each-others names. My name is Jeremiah, this is Sarrin.”
“I am Lieutenant Non. This is General Astra.”
“You're not from here either are you?”
“We are not.”
“So, what happens now?”
“Now we find out what your friend knows about a friend of ours.”
“It's been two weeks.” Jeremiah thought to himself. “every time they take her and she's gone for hours. Why don' they ever question me? They must be looking for answers they think only another alien can provide. But what are they doing to her? Every time they bring her back, she can barely move. 'no that's not right' he forcefully corrected himself. 'She's dazed and disoriented but it is not fair to say she can barely move.' “Why does she defend them?” He pondered aloud. The guard looked more closely at him. Jeremiah faced the man more directly. “What is it about Astra that has Sarrin so deferential to her?”
“GENERAL Astra inspires loyalty. Lt. Non commands it. The Atraxi very wisely does not resist their presence. I mean, why wouldn't she?”
“Atraxi...You're Kryptonians!”
“What of it?”
“I assumed you were White Martians, or Enkarens. That you were looking for J'onn, someone from Arias. Well, this explains a lot. Not everything__but a lot of it.”
The guard stepped aside when Lt. Non brought Sarrin back into the compact, comfortable room that served as their cell. “It's alright, just tired. It's been 31 hours.”
“Not sure I understand. But I understand more than I did.” Sarrin instantly fell into the most peaceful, motionless sleep Jeremiah ever imagined witnessing. He had to admit that was probably normal for Sarrin's race. He sat down against the rear wall of their cell and tried to sort his thoughts. General Astra and Lt. Non might well be married. But they were soldiers first: they addressed each-other by rank in front of their guests. The outlines they wore on their left breast was probably military insignia. They bore no family crests. So either they had been dis-commended, or they were not from one of the great houses, as Sarrin once described Kryptonian families.
“36 hours. 36 hours.” Sarrin muttered, sitting up.
“I'll ask you about that later. I think I understand why you keep defending them. ALL Kryptonians were your 'superiors' back on their planet, weren't they?”
“Just so.” Jeremiah gave a sort, entreating look. “If I had been two years older when everything happened, I'd still have a dark blue cloth above my elbow indicating which great house I served. They are Kryptonians. It wouldn't occur to me to question their honesty. Unless my empathic abilities told me otherwise. And I sense no such matter.”
Non returned ten minutes later. Jeremiah stood between him and Sarrin, his hand stretched to Non as if putting distance between himself and hideous danger. “Leave her alone.” Jeremiah declared with a forcefulness that caught Non's attention.
“That's quite a change. To see that you have a spine as well as a tongue.”
“I intend to use both. Please, whatever you want from her, take me instead.” He seemed to consider the man in front of him. “Would it do any good to beg for it?”
The flat tone of his voice made it hard to determine if it was an inquiry or an assumption. Non stared at him and he levelly returned the stare. Finally Non shook his head. “That you are willing to do so tells me enough. Come with me.”
“You seem different today Mr. Danvers.” General Astra prompted him.
“You're Kryptonians. It's the only thing that could explain Sarrin's deferential attitude. You have no interest in any of my friends do you...the ones at Arias.”
“Not unless one of them is a blonde-haired young woman energized by the sun.” Jeremiah's head perked up. “Where is she?”
“I don't know who you're looking for.”
Non delivered a fierce backhand to Jeremiah's jaw. “Where is she?!”
“I don't know who you're talking about.” Jeremiah insisted just as fiercely. Non took a threatening step closer. “I don't think you would have me lie.”
“This place you talk about, Arias, does it live up to its name?” Astra inquired.
“Extremely so General.” Jeremiah replied.
“You live in a sanctuary for peaceful aliens.”Lt. Non interjected.
“For almost 5 years. What of it?” Non did not reply, nor did he need to. Jeremiah continued on his own. “J'onn leads a group of vastly different species. Some look very closely human, like Sarrin. Some look completely human, either by choice or genetics. Some have powder blue skin and golden-tinted eyes. Are you looking for one of them?”
“We're looking for one of our own. A woman who'd be wearing this symbol.” Non tossed Sarrin's notebook to the ground. It fell open to a very familiar page.
“The house of El?” Jeremiah breathed. General Astra started. “Are you FROM the house of El?”
“You know it?” She demanded fiercely. “What do you know of it?”
In response Jeremiah held his right hand up, all four fingers bent toward his palm, his thumb against the side of his hand. He was taking an oath. “My son, Elias would wear this symbol. His Kryptonian name is Kal-El. It was his 12th birthday when we found the ship that brought him to Earth and learned this much. But I didn't know the significance of the symbol until I came to Arias and met Sarrin. While she was born on Krypton, she is not herself Kryptonian. She's the one who drew this symbol. She couldn't read it either, but it meant the world to her. A man who wore this on his chest saved her life when Krypton was destroyed. She was, only a small child at the time. So the symbol was understandably burned into her memory. All these things I swear to you.”
General Astra's features softened. "I'm looking for Kara Zor-El. She is Kal-El's cousin."
"And you are her family." Jeremiah surmised.
"Yes. She's my niece. We..my husband and I don't wear that symbol because neither of us are of the house of El. Kara's mother and I were sisters." Astra's gaze became rather fixed. "You don't know what that means?"
“I haven't seen anyone wearing that symbol except my son. I've met no other Kryptonians...until now.”
“We traced the trajectory of her pod to Earth. She might be living as one of you. And might not understand her name and origin.”
“And she might never have learned it.” Jeremiah intoned. "May I ask you a question?" Astra nodded. "What was Kal-El's father's name?"
"His name was Jor-El. Kara and Kal's fathers...were brothers." "This is making a ridiculous amount of sense." Jeremiah whispered.
"Kal-El is the only Kryptonian known on this planet?"
"I haven't seen him in five years. Maybe he's learned otherwise. But when I last saw him, he wholeheartedly believed he was the last of his kind."
"How can a father not speak to his son for so long a time?!" Non queried.
"I...I Can Not leave Arias."
“WHAT?” Astra and Non asked, completely in sync with each-other.
“I am under house arrest at Arias. J'onn will not permit me to leave and I would not try to escape. I swore on oath that without his order to the contrary, I would not leave his side. He has told me that I am free to move about Arias as I please, so long as I do not attempt to leave the place. On Earth that is called house arrest.”
“Then what are you even doing outside its borders.” Non demanded.
“fair question" Jeremiah thinks to himself. "It was a favor to J'onn. Sarrin has not set foot outside the village in more than 30 years. She is...precious to him. And for the brief time I'm out here, she is my responsibility. I see it as my duty to him, to protect one of his closest friends. I do not know how I could face J'onn if I let anything happen to Sarrin. My son believes I'm dead. And it must be so. Hank Henshaw, believes I'm dead, for which I am grateful. Sarrin and I...home for us is Arias, with J'onn and our friends. And I am telling you, if any Kryptonians other than Superman were known to exist, they would be known to us, to The D.E.O or to Arias. I've given you as much of an answer and I have. Please, let us go back.”
“How did you come to be, as you are?” Non queried, half to himself.
“What are you doing to Sarrin?” Jeremiah countered. “I won't say another word until I know for certain that she is safe and unharmed.”
“You have the right priorities.” Lt. Non observed.
“I was a solider before coming to Arias. But that is not an answer.”
“Sarrin is safe. We've interrogated her yes. But it has never been torture. We had no reason to hurt her.”
“She came back to you exhausted every single time.”
“Because she was falling asleep Jeremiah.” Lt. Non offered patiently.
“What?”
“Her people are awake for 31 hours and sleep for five hours. There is nothing that can keep them awake a second longer. There is nothing that can wake them up a second sooner. We brought her back to you any time she needed to sleep.”
“That's why she kept talking about 'it's been thirty-one hours.” Jeremiah took a reassured breath and voiced another thought. "You truly have no interest in Arias? You are not...pursuing J'onn?"
"I do not even know who that is." Astra confirmed.
"Then I am not betraying him by leading you there. If anyone outside the D.E.O can help you...it's him."

THIS is Hank Henshaw and a stranger named Mon-el talking to Nikita!

 "I'm still not convinced that in every species no matter how horrible there is room for improvement. But the stories of my people, especially our sacred texts teach that in every species in the galaxy there are exceptions.  That no matter how uniform thier behavior or single-minded thier philosophy, there are always those who's natures run counter to the mainstream. We call them 'horrata'. It means 'an exception to the rule. And not just a minority. A star in the ashes. But all this is in the positive, and it goes the other way too.. White Martians are in general ignorant, arrogant assholes, but I cannot deny there might be some that do not want to be defined by hatred and actually resist the 'truth' that they deserve the world and everything in it.  Human's don't understand this because you are so multi-faceted and so individualistic that the only consistency in your entire race IS variety. We...you have a reputation for being self-focused and self-important. The strive to improve your own situation your ambition and...well this is on an entirely individual basis, singular, ego-driven, self-improvement. And of course that's all true but what is so easy to miss is that individualism allows for an unheard of, and for most cultures unfathomable amount of diversity.
 Most species are known by a tendency or a proclivity. Whether they are known as a race of weapons manufacturers, of warriors or the equivalent of Franciscan Friars --my race is by the way would be in that list-- they are all known and defined by that quality or trait or choice. You could say 'there is some soul of goodness in things evil', but the reverse is just as true. Horrata is exceptions to the rule regardless of whether the rule is virtue or darkness. You cannot put a race into one box or the other, ever. no matter how big the box is, no matter the label, not everyone fits into that box. I have never found a planet where this was so completely true. But it's like, because you don't have boxes, you don't understand how hard...and rare...it is not to live in one."
"I get the feeling there's more you want to say." Mon'el told me easily, if slowly.
"Everyone has good and evil inside of them and you can't put people into a box of virtue and light any more than you can a box of Evil and Darkness. Many would label Hank with the latter. In my experience 'finding a soul of goodness in things evil' is the only time this truth is even considered, or thought upon. As I said the reverse is also true. I can't put someone into a box labeled 'pure light, goodness and truth',  But if I could, Jeremiah would be in it. He is the only human like that I ever knew.” My voice resonated with sadness and I closed my eyes.
"I can't argue with you there." Hank said in a low voice.
I looked over at Mon'el who very politely wasn't saying anything. Perhaps it was closer to genuine consideration than manners. “Jeremiah was the D.E.O. Agent who broke me out of this place, almost 2 years ago now...and died in the line of duty several months later. Hank came looking for me, told me of his death, and asked me to work with him.” I stared at Hank and he stared right back at me. “I am sorry, it is not my place. It really does have to come from you.”
“Jeremiah was...a courageous as well as a noble man.” Hank began slowly. “For own own completely personal reasons, neither of us would question it...or him. I never thought much of him but he showed he could put his duty above his personal feelings, acknowledging but overcoming what he thought of me as an individual, to defend his commanding officer. He died saving my life. And when I came back I asked for Nikita's help, to make sure I never misjudged anyone quite as badly as I did Jeremiah Danvers.”

Elana is of a race called Enkarens, well she is a half-breed but identifies herself as one of her mother's people. She can give people images or videos in thier minds eye if she maintains the connection, like they were watching a movie or in a holodeck. She's explaining that if she were entirely of her mother's people this would be a full immersion experience, indistinguishable from reality. Where ever they would put one, one would literally believe they were there and it was real. To other races in the galaxy this ability is known as 'traumatic hypnosis'. It's an misnomer, but an understandable one." She says. Her race are such fierce and capable warriors, this is assumed to be the only way they'd use that ability: to bring enemies to their knees. Her friend suggests that might not be because of the Enkaren race at all. But because other alien races are such single-minded warriors and conquerors. They would use a gift this way, it is what makes sense to them. It is the only 'sensible' thing to do according to thier mindset. Think not so much 6 mice each seeing parts of an Elephant and calling it something else. More like 7 mice seeing an entire elephant and still coming to 6 different conclusions about what they're looking at.

When I wrote down the scene of Henry Allen and J'onn Jo'nzz (And I jsut realized I haven't posted that yet I am SO sorry) I wrote their host as someone other than Nikita because I didn't want to involve her in the story. I didn't want to force this stand alone scene, unrelated to any other work into the narrative. And when J'onn Jo'nzz of Earth 9 had a companion, an alien at Arias that *could not* be Nikita and later spoke with a visiting Elana, I used that story/memory as an unneeded explanation for the connection between this young, quiet alien and the green Martian J'onn Jo'nzz. But then I got far enough in the story that J'onn and Jeremiah came back to the D.E.O and realized I could not play Nikita and J'onn as complete strangers. In that moment, back in the young girl's apartment with a human named Henry and an alien named J'onn Jo'nzz, thier host never called herself by name. I called her Atraxi for the very reason that this was not part of the same narrative... which now it actually IS. Solving both problems simultaneously, When J'onn returns with Jeremiah to the D.E.O he will recognize Nikita as that same human-looking alien who gave himself and Henry Allen shelter and with whom he had an epic 'open mouth insert foot' experience. This will have the important benefit of no longer dismissing the scene I wrote with Henry and J'onn. And also allowing for SOME type of connection to exist between J'onn and Nikita. Before being taken to the D.E.O Nikita went by the human name of Sasha Jordan Scott.

Good Deeds Returned (SPN)

AFTER being attacked by a vampire who for some reason took no pleasure in the feeding (and left him alive) Dean brings said vampire to his home. Castiel is...different.

"Well Castiel do you need a place to stay?”

The man – for in That moment Dean thought of him as a man – stared at him, uncomprehending.  "I think we both need to get out of here, preferably without being seen. Come on, I'll take you to my place."

Despite being the one with the bleeding gash in his neck, Dean found himself carrying Castiel into his motel room. Castiel fell into the metal dining chair, dazed. Dean let him sit there quietly while he went into the bathroom for the first aid kit. His first instinct was of course not to let his guest out of his sight for a second longer than he had to.

Somehow he got the impression the only thing he was in danger of from Castiel was that the man would run away into the night.  So he patched himself up in front of the bathroom mirror, cleaning and dressing his wound as efficiently and effectively as if it had been his whole profession. He returned to the living room to find Castiel staring at him, his eyes hollow and sad.

"If you're going to kill me, just give me a quick death."

Dean was floored. Not at the request as much as the realization that he wasn't even considering what should have been a common sense course of action. The man was staring at him, his eyes icy blue, his voice pleasant, and pained. “I know you're a hunter. I know your kind. I won't stop you. But please, just kill me and be done with it.

Dean knocked him out with one blow.  When Castiel woke up, he was tied to the chair he'd fallen asleep in. Dean was standing a few feet away from him, holding a silver knife in one hand and what he could only assume was a flask of holy water in the other. His face set with determination, permitting no emotion.  “Here's how it's gonna play. I'm gonna ask you some questions, about you, vampires in general. You tell me what I want to know, you get a quick death like you asked. You screw with me...or lie to me, and things will get very unpleasant...for you.”  He traces the point of the knife down Castiel's jawline  Capiche?”

“I capiche.” Castiel replied, nodding faintly.

Dean stepped back to give himself space to move, and a better view of his...whatever the hell Castiel was right now.<br />

“Okay to start with the obvious, were you targeting me?”

“As a hunter?” Dean nods. “No.”

“Then why me?”

“Your strength. I sensed your strength vibrating off of you. You are powerfully alive.”

Whatever Dean had been expecting to hear, this clearly wasn't it.

“You figured I could survive you feeding off me.”

Castiel could not tell for certain if this was an assertion or a question. Deciding it didn't matter, he shook his head gently. “Take from it what you will.”

“When were you turned?”

“1508.”

It was a good thing Dean was trained by the absolute best hunters or he would have choked on air. “Are you serious?”

Castiel cocked his head to one side, as if surprised. “I wouldn't lie. Threat against my life or no, I wouldn't lie.” He swallowed hard, the defeated tone in his voice returning. Barely looking his captor in the face he added morosely. “And anyway, why would I risk it?”

“I'll accept that.” Dean stepped back, his eyebrows crinkled in thought. “What happened last night?” It was clear by the way his head jerked back, that he had surprised himself with the question.

“Blood loss wasn't the only thing making you weak in the knees, was it?”

Dean clutched harder at the handle of the blade. How the hell did this vamp understand him so completely? And why didn't It bother him more? “How do you know that?”

“Blood is life-force,” Castiel responded, as if stating a well known fact. “The very essence of who you are is in your blood. I learned a lot about you from the feeding.” He cast his eyes immediately to the ground. Worried he'd angered the man, terrified the borderline admission had sounded like a taunt. “Forgive me. I didn't mean that...the way it must have sounded.”

"Continue your story." Dean said with considerable patience.

Castiel looked up again, at least as high as Dean's chest. He took a calming breath before obeying. “For us feeding is an extremely sensual experience, intimate and intoxicating. The...victim isn't always immune to it.” Castiel's calm eyes suddenly became over bright. “I do not know how to beg your forgiveness. But I AM sorry. Please believe that.”

Finally they had gotten to the heart of the matter. One of them anyway. “Is that why you're so eager to die? Because you believe you deserve to be punished?”

“It's not that I'm eager to die.” Castiel answered fiercely. “I am not eager to die. Merely expecting it. And I learned to live without fear of death long ago.”

“Well that I can understand.” Dean remarked. He turned around so Castiel couldn't see him smile. “A man who fears death has already died many times. And you've been around long enough to know that.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Finally Dean decided he'd had enough. Facing the vampire again, he held the knife at Castiel's torso, the left side of his ribs. Castiel's face wide slack. And although he had enough self control not to plead aloud, his eyes began pleading wildly. 'No! No you said that if I answered your questions.'

...Dean cut the ropes.

“Get out of here.” Dean commanded, his voice calm and controlled.

Castiel pulled the ropes off of himself, got to his feet, but made no move to leave.  “I don't understand.” He admitted.

“I needed to know what the deal was with you. And I didn't think you'd tell me in casual conversation. Well now I know. You're a vampire, but you're not a monster. I still haven't figured out what makes you different. But I have my answers. Anyway it seems pretty stupid to kill you after you spared my life.”

"Dean I'm gratified. No that's not the right word. Grateful. Grateful beyond words. But I can't leave."

"Cass, I mean Castiel I don't think you understand I'm not..." He had been about to say 'I'm not joking; you're free' or 'I'm not going to hold you here', or words to that effect but he never got the chance.

"...No I mean I CAN'T!" Castiel interrupted, gesturing wildly to the window. The sun was shining brightly in a nearly cloudless sky.

"Yeah. That...that is a problem."