CHAPTER 1
"Pack your bags Sam, we're going on vacation to France," Dean said, handing Sam a travel brochure.
"Seriously?" Sam responded tiredly.
"Yep! And guess what we're gonna do while were there," Dean added. Sam just sighed, "Monster hunting!" Dean exclaimed energetically, even doing little jazz hands to go along it.
"Of course we are." Sam lamented. "Why can we never go somewhere just to go there?"
"This monster's interesting though--" Dean started.
"Of course it is. They're all interesting. They're supernatural. That's the whole goddamn point."
"Well yes, but this one is extra interesting"
"What could possibly so interesting that we're travelling all the way to France of all places to kill it?" Sam replied doubtfully. "Did a baguette come to life and start killing people?"
"Even better," Dean answered.
"Is it the demon?" Sam asked, a bit of interest creeping into his voice.
"No. What the fuck would the demon be doing in France?" Dean responded, astounded by the stupidity in the conclusion his idiot brother had managed to draw.
"I don't know. What is anything doing in France?" Sam retorted.
"Plenty of things are doing plenty of stuff in France. It's like Texas but with French people."
"I don't actually care what people are doing in France. What the fuck are we killing?" Sam asked his brother, annoyed by how long it was taking him to get a simple answer.
"Well Sammy, deep in the woods lives a terrible beast!" Dean responded theatrically.
"A beast?" Sam responded with obviously fake enthusiasm. "Really? I never would've guessed that we, beast hunters, would be hunting a beast! What are the odds!"
"Shut up," Dean said, "Besides, this is a special beast. According to local legend, it's been alive since the eighteenth century, cursed by a witch after he denied her shelter from the bitter cold. She cursed him to be trapped as a beast for all time unless he could learn to love someone and get them to love him in return."
There was a pause before Sam replied, "…And how is this our problem?"
"People have been disappearing in the woods where he is rumored to live more frequently recently," Dean explained.
"And how can we fix this? A true love's kiss?" Sam replied sarcastically.
"Well…" Dean replied awkwardly.
"You're joking."
"Supposedly he's cursed to remain as a beast for all eternity until the curse is broken," He elaborated, "This means he can't die until he becomes human again."
"How the fuck are we supposed to do this? We're not gay."
"It's not gay if it's for a hunt, Sammy," Dean replied in his infinite wisdom.
"I am not 'falling in love' with a monster so some idiots who go wandering in a forest don't die," Sam argued.
"You don't have to… I'm going to," Dean announced dramatically, in the way many people in books do when it's revealed that they're the murderer.
"Why are you like this?" Sam replied, unimpressed.
"Would you rather you have to be the one to fall in love with some French monster?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then be grateful."
Using foraged identities, Dean and Sam managed to get plane tickets to France. After a long but ultimately uneventful journey, they finally landed at the airport, Dean grateful to finally be on solid ground again and Sam grateful to finally be free of Dean's incessant complaints about airplanes.
"Ugh, I hate airplanes," Dean complained as they got off the plane, "Why does France have to be all the way across the ocean! Why can't it be in like Arkansas or something. There's nothing there, nobody would even notice if they put France there instead."
"You're the one who wanted to hunt a monster in the middle of France instead of somewhere normal like, oh I don't know, anywhere in America? Or really anywhere that wasn't all the way across the Atlantic Ocean," Sam responded.
"Yeah, doesn't mean I have to like it." Dean replied, looking nauseous.
"Doesn't mean you have to complain about it either," Sam retorted. Changing the subject, he continued, "So where are we meeting this guy anyway?"
"A cafe a few hours from here. We should be able to get there and get a hotel by tonight and then meet this informant tomorrow."
"And how do you know this guy's legit?" Sam questioned, unconvinced. Dean shrugged at him guiltily. "Dean I swear to God and whatever else is up there, if we had to come all the way to fucking France of all places for a monster that doesn't even exist I'm going to crash the Impala into the goddamned Empire State Building when we get back home."
"You wouldn't!" Dean gasped.
"Sure I would, I'll use my spooky psychic powers to crash it," Sam plotted evilly. "By the time the cops figure out what happened, I'll be long gone out of New York and you'll get busted for the murder of your beloved car when you sneak into the crime scene to try and save it. Nobody would ever believe you when you tell them what really happened."
"Do you think of ways to crash my car regularly?" Dean looked genuinely concerned, not for his brother's mental wellbeing, but for the safety of his beloved car.
"Every time you annoy me," Sam responded, "and you can be very annoying."
"Let's just find a train to catch," Dean replied, changing the subject, "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
Arriving at the cafe the next day, the brothers saw the place was in disrepair. It was clearly very old, with a weather sign outside that read Marie's Baguettes et Cafe. Inside, faded flower wallpaper was slowly peeling its way off an old wall while small, yet worrying deep holes in the wooden floorboards threatened to send your coffee to an untimely demise.
"There's no way this place would pass a health inspection," Sam remarked as they entered, stepping over a particularly large hole that had been half-heartedly filled in with dirt and coffee stirrers.
"Yeah, well we're not here for coffee, we're here for information," Dean said, surveying the cramped shop. Few customers occupied the space, and he quickly found who he was looking for, "That's our guy right over there."
"The one dressed like he hasn't changed his style since 1700?"Sam asked warily, looking at a pale man with a fancy coat and a frankly stupid looking hat. He sat in the corner in a rickety old seat at a table that probably hadn't been properly cleaned since the turn of the century—the nineteenth century.
"Yep," Dean confirmed. They walked over to the man, Sam hanging back apprehensively while Dean took charge and strutted confidently over to the table.
"Uh… bonjour?" Dean said uncertainly.
There was a pause.
"Bonjour," the man replied suspiciously.
"Are you Mon..sewer Duh…Arkwee?" Dean asked the man, butchering the name horrendously.
"If you wish to pronounce it like that, yes," Monseiur D'Arque replied in a thick French accent.
"Our names are Sam and Dean Winchester, we're here to help you out with your little beast problem."
"You are aware that the Beast cannot be killed until it becomes human again, yes?"
"Yep," Sam responded.
"And you are prepared for the committment that entails?"
"I've done worse on hunts," Dean said, almost proudly. D'Arque gave him a funny look.
"Remember, you cannot kill it while it is a beast. Do not try to. I tried, once long long ago, and failed. We brought an entire mob to his castle and yet he still could not be defeated. Watch out for the candlesticks," D'Arque cryptically warned them.
"…Okay," Dean replied, confused, "Thank you for the advice. We're going to get going now." Dean said, him and Sam already getting up from the table.
"He was definitely a vampire," Sam remarked as they walked away from the cafe.
"Oh for sure."
"Okay so how are we gonna go about doing this?" Sam asked Dean back in the hotel room.
"I was thinking you'd go in first, distract them as long as possible, and then when I give the signal, try to kill the Beast. I'll swing in at the last second and save it, and you'll tragically 'get away' so the Beast falls in love with me becuase I saved its life, we break the spell, kill the Beast, super easy."
"Won't it probably take a little longer than that for it to fall in love with you?" Sam asked in an innocent tone, a malicious grin on his face.
"I don't want to think about that right now," Dean replied grumpily.
"You have to at some point," Sam responded in a teasing tone, having no synpathy for the horrors his brother was about to be forced to endure.
"And that point is later," Dean retorted, "Not now."
"Fine, but one last thing?"
"What?" Dean said exasperatedly.
"How are you going to convince the Beast that you're a girl?"
"What in the fuck would I need to do that for?"
"Well he's from the eighteenth century," Sam explained, barely holding in laughter, "They weren't exactly going around being gay back then, not even in France. We need to get you a skirt."
"I hate you," Dean grumbled as Sam collapsed onto the floor in fits of laughter.
"Well I couldn't possibly fathom why you're so obsessed with getting your hands on one of those strange devices! You don't even have hands," Cogsworth argued with Lumiere. It was an argument they'd had many times before and would certainly have many times after.
"I want to press the buttons! Could you imagine, the power of an entire library condensed into a single tiny book, accessed with colorful buttons!" Lumiere shot back.
"You already have a library! It's right over there," Cogsworth replied, exapserated, "Is that not enough for you?!"
"But I can't read the books there, they'll shrivel and burn in my hands," Lumiere said, truly despondent.
"That's why I read them to you!" Cogsworth responded. Tiredly, he added, "I think we've officially run out of things to argue about."
"Don't be silly Cogsworth," Lumiere refuted, "We ran out of things to argue about in the eighteenth century."
"These strange new 'phones' have certainly made our lives slightly less boring I guess, if only as the cause for arguments." Cogsworth admitted. "How sad is that?"
"That's what I'm saying, if we had one, it would-" Suddenly, Lumiere's bickering was cut off by the loud thud of the main doors swinging open.
"What is that?" Cogsworth whispered to Lumiere, confused. Those doors had remained closed for decades, as none of the inhabitants in the castle were able to leave, and no lost souls had wandered in from the forest in years.
"I don't know. Let's go look." Lumiere whispered back as he started towards the door.
"Wait!" Cogsworth whisper-shouted at the candlestick. Let's think about this! We don't know what opened the door! What if it was wolf?!" Lumiere turned around and gave him a annoyed look.
"Do you really think a wolf managed to open the castle door?!" Lumiere whisper-shouted back at Cogsworth, practicing the fine art of bickering while also walking, not paying nearly enough attention to where he was going.
"You never know! Things have changed so much in the outside world that maybe—Lumiere watch out!" Cogsworth yelled as Lumiere ran into a long-haired man with a large brown coat walking with a purpose. Cogsworth glanced at Lumiere, wary.
"What the-" The man muttered to himself, staring down at the charred spot on his pant leg where Lumiere had run into him and then at Lumiere himself, "This is not what I signed up for."
Lumiere regained his composure, thrown off by the unexpected encounter, "Monseiur, welcome to our castle. Please, make yourself at home."
"That's fucking weird," The man said, probably to himself, but Lumiere still thought that was quite rude of him. This young man needed to be more accepting of candlesticks. "No thanks, I'm good. Where's the beast?"
"You mean the Prince?"
"Yeah sure, whatever. Where is he?"
"Oh, he's right this way but I'm not sure you want to see him," Cogsworth explained, catching up to Lumiere, "He can be a little… tempramental."
"A little?" Lumiere scoffed.
"Shut up," Cogsworth replied exasperatedly through his teeth. "We have a guest here. Make a good impression."
"Fine," Lumiere responded, "I can show you where the Prince is, monseiur, just promise not to be frightened by his appearance."
"Don't worry, I won't," The man assured, an odd tone to his voice.
"My prince, there is someone here to see you," Cogsworth announced with a slight quiver in his voice. He was clearly nervous which gave the Prince an uneasy feeling, for although Cogsworth was almost always worried about something or another, this time seemed more serious. From the doorway which Cogsworth had just entered, two more came in: Lumiere and a stranger. He had long hair and a strange glint in his eyes that made the Prince even more wary of the situation.
"This is Sam," Cogsworth introduced the stranger, "He said he was looking for you."
"And what is your business in my castle, 'Sam'?" The Prince asked. This man was definitely up to no good.
"Bringing a beast to justice." Sam declared, suddenly aiming at the Prince with a gun that he must've procured from a hidden pocket or some such. Before he could react, the assassin shot once and then again, the Prince doubling over in pain, blood seeping through the bullet wounds that had both hit him squarely in the chest. Either one would've been easily enough to kill any mortal man, but the assassin wasn't deterred by his lack of dramatic death, and was already aiming a third shot when out of the blue, a woman snuck up from behind the evil man who had so wickedly tried to kill him and tackled him to the ground. The assassin quickly recovered and seemed to consider trying to shoot the Prince again as he got up, but clearly determined that he was outnumbered and ran away. The Prince hoped that the wolves would eat the would-be murderer as he staggered his way through the woods, and while he knew his luck wasn't that good, hopefully they would at least scare him off from visiting these woods again.
Turning his attention away from where the assassin had departed, he instead focused on the beautiful woman who had just saved his life. She was tall and muscular, wearing a sturdy brown jacket and a simple red skirt that practically covered her shoes. She had short, spiky brown hair that framed her gorgeous face with eyes that were deep green pools that he would get lost in if he dared to stare into them for too long. This woman was easily the most beautiful person that the Prince had ever met.
"H-hi," He stammered, "My name's Adam. What's yours?"
There was a long pause before she finally spoke, "…Dean." Her voice was deep, yet gentle, like a river cutting its way through a well-worn path, slowly eroding away at the sediment of his heart.
"Well, Dean, thank you for saving my life," The Prince thanked her, blushing under all the fur. "Do you—do you need a place to stay for the night?"
"Actually, I do," Dean replied, "but I wouldn't want to intrude."
"Oh no, it would be no trouble!" The Prince replied hastily. "Please, stay a night or two."
"Alright, if you're sure it wouldn't be any trouble for you." She agreed graciously.
"For you? Of course not." The Prince responded. "I'll have Cogsworth show you to a room."
"Right this way, miss," The clock—Cogsworth apparently—said to Dean, already starting down the hallway.
Today had been easily one of the weirdest days of Dean's life. First, he'd had to sneak into the castle in the middle of nowhere and save the very monster that he was hunting's life and it was clear that said monster was already hopelessly in love with him! On top of all that, he'd had to do all of this in a skirt of all things. A skirt! At least it seemed like it wouldn't be too hard to get the Beast to fall in love with him, it'd known him for a total of five minutes and spent the entire time making heart eyes at him. This hunt had better end quickly or he was going to lose it.
"Here we are," Cogsworth, who was a talking clock, informed Dean, jolting him out of his thoughts, "I'll just leave you to get settled."
Dean cautiously walked inside the room. It was very fancy, although quite empty. The only pieces of furniture in the room were the bed, a bookshelf which was mostly empty, and a wardrobe, with a few old paintings hung on the lonely walls. This room clearly hadn't been inhabited for many years, yet there was no dust on anything. He wondered whose it had been before it was abandoned.
His musing was interrupted by a cheery voice cutting through the silence of the previously thought empty room, "Hello dear! You must be the new girl that everyone's talking about," Turning around to see who was talking to him, Dean saw nobody. The room was just as empty as when he'd arrived.
"Over here!" The voice called again. Looking towards the source, he saw a wardrobe. Except looking closer he saw that the wardrobe had a face. With eyes and a nose and a mouth and everything a face should have. And was talking directly to him. Could every single piece of furniture in this castle talk? Dean didn't know, but he did know that he needed to finish this hunt and get out of this odd castle before he lost his mind.