Chapter XXII: Preparation

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Dean sat in his Impala. His constant. His home. After everyone had left him- his girlfriend, his father, even when Sammy left for college- he still had his Impala to fall back on. He took care of the car and built the car up those many times life decided to tear the car down. The car kept him warm at night and dry during the rain. The car given him a place to sleep when hotels were just too far away.

He honestly wouldn't know what he would have done if it wasn't for this car. Even with all of its quirks and blemishes, it was perfect. This had been home for as long as Dean could remember.

He pulled out his phone and called Cas, but there was no answer. "Son of a bitch; don't do this to me now! Answer the damn phone," Dean swore into the phone as he tried the number again. Nothing.

He threw the phone down and shook his head. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, "Cas get your feathery ass down here right now," he prayed. "You can't do this; you can't leave me. We have to help Sam. We have to fix him. Get down here, now." He felt the few tears he'd felt building at the edge of his eye lids start to fall. "Please." He dropped his head into his hands.

How was he going to do this? How was he and Emma supposed to save Henry and Sam? Sure, she was the savior- the product of true love. That must mean something. And as Cas- she had magic in her. But what about him? The soldier, at best. He was destined to save the entire freakin' world according to a couple of angel douchebags. But he couldn't even save his own damn brother. A magical quest with his brother and Emma's son lives on the line. Would he be able to do it?

He shook his head. The time for self-loathing was over. If Cas wasn't going to help him- then to hell with him. Him and Emma would have to rely on themselves to save the day.

***

Emma approached the hotel door with the number two sign and knocked, "August? Please open up."

No answer.

"I know you're in there. Open the door."

Barely, she heard a weak reply, "I can't."

He can't? What did that mean? Could he physically not get up to open the door or was there something hindering his way to opening it? It didn't matter, she didn't have time for this. She kicked the door open.

There he was, laying on the bed. Except he was different. His arms were wooden and his neck was starting to turn. This is what he meant in the forest. She really hadn't been able to see his leg- but now, now she could see everything. August had been telling the truth. He was turning into wood right before her eyes.

"No," she breathed. "What's happening to you?"

"You can see it now," he barely said. "You believe."

"Yeah, I do. But... How do I stop this?" she asked. This was her fault- just like Henry. He was turning into wood because she wouldn't believe him sooner.

"Break the c-curse."

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'll try. I promise. But I gotta save Henry first. And I need your help."

"No you don't," he whispered.

"Yeah, I do. This is all too much. I just... talked to the Evil Queen and Rumpelstiltskin. Dean and I- we have to go on some quest to find magic and we have no idea what we're up against and we- I need you. I can't do it, August. I can't. No normal person can."

"Luckily for us, you're not normal," he said with a weak smile. The rest of his neck and jaw were turning into wood. She wanted desperately to reach out and stop this but didn't know how. "You can save Henry. You can save all of-" his face turned to wood. He was no longer with her, not really.

What was she going to do? She had no one now. No one except Dean. Could she and Dean really do this? For Henry and Sam?

***

"No use struggling, dearie. I've done my research; I know how to trap you. You're not going anywhere," Mr. Gold said as he snarled.

"Why are you doing this? Let me go, Rumpelstiltskin!" Castiel yelled as he stood trapped in the middle of a circle of fire.

Mr. Gold moved his pointer finger back and forth, "No, no, no. I don't think so. Who is the all powerful one now?"

"How did you even get holy oil?"

"I've acquired a number of things in this shop; some from this world and some from mine. It should be no surprise that holy oil is something I possess. And with just a bit of research, I've managed to scrounge up my own little angel mouse trap," Mr. Gold said as he walked around the circumference of flames, Castiel's eyes never leaving his.

"But why? Sam is in trouble, as well as Henry. Something you are well aware of. I can help them; I can save them!" Castiel tried to reason.

Mr. Gold just shook his head, "See, that's where you're wrong. I don't need you to save them. Emma has to save Henry; though first she has to run an errand. Just a minor rodent problem. She will be victorious and all will be well."

"What about Dean and Sam? You're sending them Dean and Emma down in that mine to fight against a dragon."

"Oh, Emma will be fine. She has her father's sword; the fighting spirit is in her blood. Did you know that the first time our dear Prince went into battle was against a dragon? No experience, no weapons; probably had never even seen a dragon before. And yet he rose up to the challenge and ending up vanquishing the beast! That, my angel, is the same spirit I expect to see from Emma," Mr. Gold said with a wide smile; obviously proud of himself.

Castiel's eyes narrowed, "What about Dean?"

"I've told him about a sword he can find down there; though it might be stuck in a rock. Whether he can get it out is yet to be seen-"

"You're going to sit aside and let him go down there defenseless against a dragon? It'll kill him!" Castiel yelled. Outside thunder shook the town and lightning lit the sky from Castiel's rage.

"Casualties happen every day!" Mr. Gold hissed. "He shouldn't even be here anyway. This is Emma's destiny and Emma's alone! Besides, if he dies I'm sure you can just bring him back- again." Castiel glared at the imp; but there was nothing he could do. The fiery oil left him powerless. "I'll release you... eventually. I just can't have you meddling."

Mr. Gold turned and limped his way out of the room. 

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