Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean Winchester sat in a beach chair on the edge of his pond, watching his pet alligator, Yaeger, finishing the job he had started. Dean had dumped the banker into the pond feet first, and Yaeger had started there, so the man’s screams were still being carried by the fall breeze. Dean wasn’t worried, though, there was no one within twenty miles on any side of his farm so Dean was the only one who could hear the screams.

With Yaeger halfway up the man’s body, Dean pulled out his burner phone and took a picture of the scene. The banker’s face was distorted as he howled for mercy and begged for death to take him. Blood mixed with water splashed up behind him, and Yaeger’s tail could be seen in the background, wagging like a happy dog.

Dean hit send and put the phone in his pocket. He stood up and watched as Yaeger finished his meal and then swam away. Dean's favorite part of these moments was the stillness in the aftermath of such carnage. It was the only time his brain settled down. The quietness was interrupted by a ding, and he took another cell phone out of a different pocket and read the notification. The money he expected had been transferred. The job was complete. He made a mental note to destroy the burner phone when he got back to the house. He always seemed to forget to do that right away for some reason.

Leaving the chair by the pond, Dean walked up the short hill to the sprawling farmhouse he had purchased just a couple of years ago. It was much more efficient for his work than living in an apartment. And being out in the middle of nowhere, not only did no one know where he lived, but no one bothered to try and find out. It was perfect. Well, as perfect as Dean would ever get in his life. Long ago, he had resigned himself to acknowledging that his past affected who he had become, and nothing could change his past. He would always be the son of parents who were put away for mentally and physically abusing him and his younger brother. He’d always be the boy who set his house on fire when his parents were let out of jail and were given back custody of their sons. He’d always be the teen who tried to stab his parents while they slept and ended up getting shot by his own father. And he’d always be the older brother to the only person he ever genuinely loved who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Dean carried his past in his heart, knowing it made him who he was at this moment. A cold-blooded killer for hire who didn’t care if he lived or died, so he didn’t care if anyone else lived or died. And he didn’t see that changing any time soon.

Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off the mysterious stranger in the bar. He walked in just after they had opened, took a seat in the corner, and had been nursing a double whisky for about an hour. His boss, Mike Shanahan, owner of the bar and one of the scariest people Castiel had ever met, told Castiel to leave him alone, that the man preferred Craig, another bartender, serve him. Mike seemed frightened of the man, as did Craig, which just made the stranger more fascinating to Castiel.

To look at him, there wasn’t anything frightening about him. He looked to be somewhere in his late 30s, roughly Castiel’s age. He had shaggy, dark-blonde hair that grew just past the nape of his neck and kept falling into his eyes. Every time he brushed the hair back, the greenest eyes Castiel had ever seen peeked out. His face was sprinkled with freckles, making him look even younger than he probably was, and he was wearing a faded black T-shirt, ripped jeans, and work boots. He walked in wearing an oversized, beat-up, brown leather jacket but immediately took it off and threw it on the chair across from him.

If Mike hadn’t made such a big deal out of him, Castiel wouldn’t have given him a second thought. He had too much on his own mind. Normally, he tried to ignore the goings on at Shanahan’s Bar; Castiel figured the less he knew, the better off he’d be, but no one had ever garnered the kind of attention that this stranger had and Castiel wondered if he should be concerned. Lost in his thoughts, Castiel didn’t notice at first when the stranger motioned to the bar, silently waving his empty glass in the air. But once he did, he realized he was motioning to him and suddenly got very nervous. He looked around quickly for Craig, but he was nowhere to be found, probably out on another cigarette break. Before he could respond to the stranger, the man stood up and made his way to the bar.

Standing on the opposite side of the bar from Castiel, he gently put the glass on the bar and sighed, “Can I just get another double?”

Castiel looked around again, “I, uh, I can go get Craig for you.”

The man shook his head, “Aren’t you a bartender? Can’t you just pour me a whisky?”

“I, uh…” Castiel wasn’t sure how to respond, “I thought you liked Craig?”

“I like whisky. I don’t give a fuck who serves it to me.”

Castiel laughed and quickly clamped his hand over his mouth, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…”

The man smiled back at Castiel, “Why would you apologize for laughing?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was laughing AT you,” Castiel admitted.

“Christ, what did they tell you about me?” The man sat on a barstool and watched Castiel pour his drink.

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel sighed, “I’m an idiot.”

The man took the drink from Castiel, downed it all in one gulp, and handed the glass back to him.

“You aren’t an idiot. The people you work for are.”

Castiel only worked for Mike, but Mike worked for people most folks who came into the bar didn’t like to talk about. It was obvious to Castiel this guy was talking about those people.

“I wouldn’t know,” he responded nervously.

The man held out his hand, “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you.”

Castiel slowly accepted Dean’s hand and shook, “Castiel Novak. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Dean nodded to the bottle of whisky. “How about you keep those coming until your boss decides he has time to see me.”

Castiel was surprised that Mike would be making this guy wait after how he had talked about him, but it wasn’t his place to question it. “Sure.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Castiel,” Dean reassured him as Castiel pushed another glass of whisky across the bar. “I like you.”

Castiel hoped his sigh of relief wasn’t too loud.

Castiel had no way of knowing what Dean said to Mike to cause it, but as soon as his boss was ready to meet with Dean, he sent Craig home, had Castiel kick everyone else out of the bar, and told him to stick around until he was done meeting with Dean.

So Castiel sat at a table texting with his girlfriend Hannah, waiting to be told he could leave. They were fighting…again…and Castiel wanted to get home so they could argue face-to-face. Hannah hated how often he had to work late and Castiel hated how often she picked fights about it. She knew who he worked for. She knew he was making better money as a bartender at the bar owned by local mobsters than he would doing anything else he was qualified to do…which wasn’t much…but it didn’t matter to her. Ever since they met, Hannah thought she was above Castiel and had done everything in her power to change him. But Castiel was nothing if not stubborn, and he pushed back at every opportunity. He often wondered why she even stayed with him; it was obvious after a few dates they weren’t really compatible. But Castiel was lonely, and Hannah was smart and beautiful, so he knew why he was sticking around. But he couldn’t figure out Hannah’s angle. He thought about it a lot, especially on nights like tonight when she sent him messages calling him weak and small, but he knew he’d cave. He knew once Mike gave him the green light to leave, he’d drive over to her place, beg her forgiveness, and spend the night pretending she cared about him the way he desperately needed someone to care about him. But for now, he’d argue with her via text message and hope tonight wasn’t the night when she finally had enough of him.

He was so caught up in texting that he didn’t feel the hand on his shoulder until it started shaking him. He looked up to see Dean standing there, his green eyes a bit glazed, smiling at him.

“Do you know how to drive?” Dean slurred.

Castiel’s hands shook as he drove Dean’s ’67 Impala down the highway. Dean was slumped on the passenger’s side of the bench seat, his back against the door, watching Castiel intently.

“This car is a beauty,” Castiel offered.

“Was my dad’s,” Dean sighed. But I wanted it so,” Dean shrugged, and when he felt the leather jacket scrunching up his arms, he laughed, “Just like this jacket.”

“That was your dad’s too?”

Dean nodded.

“It’s nice.” Castiel wasn’t sure what to say.

“Man, Mike fucked me up,” Dean laughed. “That shit was strong.”

Mike was well-known for providing anyone willing to pay with the best drugs in town. Castiel wasn’t inclined to lean that way, but once Mike gave him some pills as a kind of bonus and he only took one and woke up naked in a car wash with no memory of how he got there.

“Thanks for driving me,” Dean continued.

“It’s okay.”

Dean tilted his head to see out the front window, “Pull in here. I’ll crash for the night.”

Castiel turned into the parking lot of a motel whose neon sign wasn’t lit up. “Are you sure? This place looks kind of sketchy.”

Dean chuckled, “You think I’m not sketchy?”

Castiel had no response to that.

Dean struggled to sit up, “Listen,” there was still a hint of a slur in his voice. “I can’t let you take me home. But I can’t risk getting stopped by the cops either. So, we’ll stay here tonight, and I’ll drive you back to the bar in the morning, okay?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Amused, Dean smiled, “Both, I guess.”

Castiel nodded, “Okay.” He knew Hannah would be pissed, but he sensed it would be a smarter move to piss her off than to piss off Dean Winchester.

He was surprised when Dean told him he’d only rented one room but relieved when it turned out there were two beds. Castiel wasn’t sure why he had a fleeting thought that Dean would only get one bed, and he tried to keep it out of his mind.

“I don’t get much time to shoot the shit with anyone,” Dean sat on the bed closer to the door. He tossed his jacket on a chair, kicked off his boots, and sat up against the headboard, his hands behind his head, staring at Castiel.

Castiel took off his shoes and then lay on the bed closer to the bathroom in the same manner that Dean was lying. “Does arguing with my girlfriend count as shooting the shit? That’s pretty much the only time I talk to anyone…except for work.”

“Hell, you’re a bartender. Everyone talks to you.”

Castiel thought it was oddly polite of Dean to ignore what he had said about Hannah.

“Some do. Not as much as they make you think in the movies, though.”

“You live with your girlfriend?”

“Oh, God, no. We haven’t even been together a year.”

“That’s too bad. I live alone. It’s okay, I guess, but a lot of the time, it sucks. Sometimes, I’m just out there talking to my animals like Doctor Doolittle.”

“You have animals?”

Dean nodded, “I live on a farm. I have pigs, a couple of horses…” Dean trailed off before telling Castiel about Yaeger, his alligator.

“That sounds cool,” Castiel was being sincere.

Dean shrugged, “I guess. It’s quiet anyway, and no one can find me.”

“So, you’re someone who wants people to talk to but doesn’t want anyone to find you?” Castiel teased.

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, something like that.” He looked at his watch, “Christ, it’s three o’clock. No wonder I’m so tired.” He looked over at Castiel, “I’m sorry, Castiel. I shouldn’t have dragged you out here. Your lady is gonna be pissed, huh?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Castiel smiled, “It’s a nice reprieve from fighting.”

“Castiel,” Dean rolled the name around on his tongue, “That’s an interesting name.”

“My mother named me after an angel. It was supposed to be Cassiel. Did you ever hear of the German movie Wings of Desire? My mother saw it just before I was born. But I think she misheard the angel’s name or something so I’m Castiel instead.”

“Wings of Desire, huh? Never heard of it. Would I like it?”

“Do you like foreign films about fallen angels?”

Dean thought about it, “I mean, I guess I could.”

Castiel smiled, “It’s a good movie. You should watch it sometime.”

“Maybe I will.” Dean closed his eyes. “Castiel,” he whispered. He said it one more time, “Castiel,” just before he fell asleep.

Castiel woke up to water running and, for a moment, had no idea where he was. Getting out of bed, he remembered how he ended up at the motel and groaned at what he knew was waiting for him when he contacted Hannah. As he walked by the open bathroom door, he saw Dean at the sink, jeans and boots on, but shirtless. He was washing himself and, through the mirror, caught Castiel looking at him. He turned around and smiled, “Morning, sunshine!” then returned to cleaning up. Castiel walked away to give him some privacy, but not before he noticed the gun lying on the sink. It had been easy to forget who Dean probably was for a while, but the gun was a stark reminder of the kind of people Castiel was involved with, even if only tangentially.

Dean was silent for most of the ride back to the bar, so Castiel was surprised when he grabbed his elbow as he started to get out of the car.

“Wings of Desire?”

Castiel smiled, “Wings of Desire.”

Dean nodded, “Maybe I’ll check it out. We could talk about it sometime when I come back?”

“I’d like that, Dean.”

Dean nodded again. “Thanks for the ride last night.” He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a roll of twenties. Holding it out to Castiel, he tried to nudge it into his hand. “For your trouble. Buy your girlfriend a nice apology present.”

Castiel took a step back from the car but smiled at Dean. “I didn’t help you so you’d pay me, Dean.” He looked back at the bar and then at Dean again. “It was nice having someone to hang out with.” He nodded to Dean, “See you later.”

Dean watched Castiel walk to his car as he put the money back in his pocket and wondered if he had just made a friend.

“Please!” The man was on his knees in front of Dean. His face was covered in blood from the pummeling Dean had given it, and his hands were covered in cuts from his trying to defend himself. He was shaking so much that Dean expected him to tip over at any moment. Both his eyes were almost swollen shut but still open enough that he could see Dean looking down on him with an air of almost complete disinterest.

“I’ll do anything!” the man pleaded. “Anything!”

“What you were supposed to do was pay,” Dean seemed bored. “You were supposed to not start selling on your own.” Dean kicked the man in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. As he rolled around in pain, Dean kicked him in the ribs, “You weren’t supposed to try and put Shanahan’s out of business.” Dean never raised his voice.

“I didn’t!” The man protested.

“I suppose that raid just happened on its own, huh? By a bunch of newbie cops the family doesn’t have on their payroll yet, right? You being the Town Manager and all, you couldn’t organize something like that, could you?” Dean kicked him again.

The man struggled but got to his knees again, “This has all been a big misunderstanding.”

Dean sighed, bored with this man already. He grabbed him by his collar and punched him in the face one more time, just to ensure the man knew who was in charge, and he dragged him across the cement floor until they got to the walk-in freezer.

The man’s swollen eyes widened as much as they could under the circumstances. “Please, no!’

Dean looked at the thermostat. “It’s ten below zero in there.” Dean used a gloved hand to fiddle with the device, “Now it’s thirty below. I don’t know what that’s gonna do to the food, but I have a good idea what it’ll do to you.” Dean chuckled as the man struggled under his grasp. “You’ll be lucky if you make it an hour.”  

Dean opened the freezer and tossed the man, now shrieking for his life, into the freezer. He slammed the door shut and, through the window in the door, watched the man banging against it, hoping it would somehow open for him.

Dean stayed and watched as the man struggled to stay cognizant of his surroundings, running around the freezer in a frenzy until he started to give in, becoming disoriented and lethargic until he passed out on the floor. Dean waited ninety minutes before opening the door to ensure the man was dead. He kicked him a few more times and then closed the door again, leaving him there to be found the next morning.

Sometimes, Dean liked his kills to be public in ways like this. His clients knew the job was done, and other people saw what would happen if they crossed the family. The visibility of his work made him feel powerful, which was a feeling he had been lacking lately. With one last glance at the Town Manager, Dean walked away, eager for a drink or two.

After updating Mike, who did a poor job of hiding his disappointment at the attention this hit would draw, Dean was disappointed to discover that Castiel wasn’t working that night and relayed this to Mike. Unsurprisingly, half an hour later, Dean observed Castiel walking into the bar, looking annoyed.

He nodded to Castiel, who glared at him as he approached Dean’s table, “Hey.”

“Hey?” Castiel was obviously pissed. “Hey? I get a call on my one night off to come in because you demanded to see me and all you have to say is hey?”

“What? No. That isn’t what happened. I just told Mike I was bummed you weren’t here is all. I didn’t mean for him to…” Dean covered his face with his hand, “Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry.”

Castiel’s demeanor started to change, “You didn’t tell him I had to come to work to wait on you?”

Dean looked up at Castiel, “I wouldn’t do that.” He thought about it, “Not to you, anyway.”

Castiel took a deep breath and chuckled as he sat at Dean’s table, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Mike bullshitted me.”

Dean was looking at Castiel, confused, “You believe me?”

“Are you lying?”

“No, no, I’m not. I wouldn’t make you come in on your night off, Cas. It’s just, well, most people don’t usually believe me.”

Castiel shrugged, “I know Mike pretty well. And when it comes to you…” Castiel trailed off.

“What? What about me?”

“It’s been a few weeks since you’ve been by here. Mike talks when he’s worried. He thought you were upset about something, and he gave us strict orders to make sure if you showed up you got the VIP treatment.” Castiel shook his head, “Jackass.”

Dean smiled, “You aren’t afraid of me, are you?”

“Should I be?”

“No, you shouldn’t.” He looked over at Mike, who was behind the bar worriedly looking Dean’s way, “But he should be. I don’t like him.”

“No one likes him. If it wasn’t for his last name, he probably couldn’t get a job washing dishes anywhere in town.”

Dean laughed as he picked up his drink, and Castiel noticed the cuts on his knuckles. He almost asked him if he’d gotten into a fight but quickly remembered himself.

“So, what’s up?”

Dean shrugged, “Same old shit.” Dean’s eyes lit up as he remembered something, “Oh, yeah, the movie! I watched Wings of Desire!”

Castiel was genuinely surprised, “You did?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And what did you think?”

“Well, the subtitles threw me off at first, but I got used to them. I’m just not sure I understood the whole thing. But it was…” Dean trailed off.

“What?”

Dean shook his head, “It’s stupid.”

“You thought the movie was stupid?”

“No!” Dean protested, “I thought the movie was…beautiful.” Dean was obviously embarrassed at his use of the word, but Castiel smiled.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“I just wish I got more of it. Like I know there was symbolism and themes that went over my head…”

“Dean, it’s just a romantic fantasy. It’s not that deep it’s just…touching. Engaging, you know?”

“Maybe if I watched it with someone who actually knew what was going on the whole time…”

Castiel shrugged, “I’ll watch it with you. I’ve seen it like a hundred times.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Dean chuckled, “We’ll have to plan a date night.”

“Deal,” Castiel smiled. “It’ll have to be better than the dates I’ve gone on lately.”

Hannah rifled through the paper bag, picked out an apple, stared at it, and then angrily threw it into the bag.

“God, Castiel, you’re so stupid!”

Castiel stood in her kitchen, leaning against the sink, as she picked apart the bag of apples he brought her.

“I asked for Honeycrisp! These are all Fuji! I can’t do anything with these!” She picked one out of the bag and threw it as hard as possible, landing a direct hit on Castiel’s nose. Being only about four feet away from her, the apple hit him hard and drew blood. He doubled over from the shock of it.

“Hannah, what the fuck!?”

“Don’t talk like that to me!” Hannah hit his head with another apple.

Castiel stood up and stormed over to her, grabbing the bag away from her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hannah slapped him across the face hard enough to leave a mark, “I told you not to talk to me like that!”

Castiel was done; he’d had enough. “I’m leaving.”

“What do you mean, leaving? For the night?” Hannah flirtatiously tilted her head, “You aren’t leaving me for good, are you, Castiel?”

“Yes, Hannah. For good. This is ridiculous. All we do is fight. You don’t even seem to like me, and I don’t know why you would want me around.”

Hannah seductively walked over to Castiel and ran her finger across his lips, “Castiel, you can’t leave me. You know you can’t leave me. How would that look?”

Castiel’s stomach dropped. Sick that he had let himself get into this situation. After their last big fight, where Hannah literally stuck a fork in his thigh and he told her it was over, she told him the truth. Her mother’s maiden name was Shanahan. She was a member of the very family she claimed she hated him working for. Tired of being single, she saw him one night at the bar and decided she wanted him, so she went after him and got him. But she didn’t tell him about her connection to the family until she knew she could use it to control him. Castiel wasn’t stupid enough to break the heart of the niece of the most powerful and dangerous man in town, so Hannah knew she had him exactly where she wanted him.

When he found out, Castiel went straight to Mike and blasted him. Mike claimed he thought Castiel knew she was Mike’s cousin, but Castiel was certain Mike was full of shit. Not that it mattered; it was out now, and Castiel was stuck. Hannah was right: he couldn’t leave her. Not if he wanted to keep living.

After leaving Hannah’s apartment, Castiel went home and sulked. When that got boring, he called an Uber and took a ride out of town to a bar he frequented whenever he needed to escape his life. It was dark and quiet, and everyone kept to themselves as they drank their troubles away. Castiel took a table in the back and was on his fourth gin and tonic when Dean appeared before him.

He was dressed as he always was, and his hair was still in his eyes, but there was something about him that night that looked different, although Castiel couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Dean?”

Without waiting for an invitation, Dean sat across from Castiel, “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel smiled. He liked that Dean had given him a nickname.

“How did you find me?”

“Coincidence. I come here sometimes when I’m not working.”

Castiel wasn’t sure he believed him, but he let it go.

Dean smiled at him and nodded, “You look like you’re a few in.”

Castiel emptied his glass, “It’s been a day.”

Dean looked at his watch, “It’s almost another day.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

Dean chuckled, “I’m just sayin’ it’s late.”

“Does it matter?” Castiel motioned to the server, who slowly approached the table looking uninspired.

“Another?” he lazily asked.

Castiel nodded and looked at Dean, “You?”

Dean nodded to the server, “Double of your cheapest whisky. And keep ‘em coming.” He pointed to Castiel, “for both of us.”

The server nodded and walked away.

“I took an Uber so I can get trashed.” Castiel teased, “Or am I driving you home again?”

“It just so happens that I took a Lyft,” Dean retorted, “So we’re both good to go.”

They spent the next few hours getting absolutely trashed until they were asked to leave the bar. Castiel was somehow able to call for a car, and the two of them shared the ride to his apartment. Without as much as a discussion about it, Dean followed Castiel to his apartment and promptly fell onto the couch.

Castiel grabbed a couple of beers out of his fridge and sat next to Dean on the couch.

“I’ll get a pillow and blanket, and you can crash here,” Castiel drunkenly offered, and Dean just nodded as he drank his beer.

“Tonight was fun,” Castiel continued, “I learned a lot about farms!”

Dean chuckled, “Even I don’t know that much.”

“It sounds nice. I’d like to see it sometime.”

Dean shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Big secret…where you live…right?”

Dean nodded, “Has to be. In my line of work…” Dean trailed off.

“Can I ask what that is?”

“Nope.”

It was Castiel’s turn to chuckle, “Duly noted.”

“I like you, Cas. You don’t need to be involved in that shit.”

Castiel laughed out loud, “Oh, I’m already involved.”

“Just because you take Mike’s money doesn’t make you involved.”

“No, but fucking Mike’s cousin does.”

Dean looked over at Castiel, surprised, “What?”

Castiel nodded.

“How did this not come up all night?”

“I was enjoying listening to you talk about your animals.”

Dean still hadn’t told Castiel about the alligator.

“Your girlfriend. Hannah, right?”

Castiel nodded again.

“Hannah is Mike’s cousin?”

“Yup. Her mom’s a Shanahan.”

“Fuck, Cas, that’s bad. Like really bad.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Did you know? You know, when you met her?” Dean was suddenly very interested in Castiel’s love life.

“No. She only told me when she could wield it against me.”

“You were gonna leave her.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. So much for that.”

Dean closed his eyes, “You deserve better, man.”

Castiel was touched, “Thanks, Dean. I appreciate that.”

Dean softly laughed to himself.

“What?” Castiel asked.

“Nothing,” Dean waved Castiel off. “I was just thinking about how there are ways I could help you with your Hannah problem.”

“Ways I probably wouldn’t like?”

Dean nodded, “Yup.”

Castiel closed his eyes, “I’ll figure out something.”

“Or by this time next year, you’ll be married.”

They both fell asleep on the couch and in the morning, Castiel woke up with his head on Dean’s lap and Dean’s arm draped across his body. Dean was still asleep, and Castiel didn’t want to wake him, so he lay there awake, with Dean gently holding him down, for about twenty minutes. Then, he heard Dean stir.

Slowly, Castiel sat up, pretending he had also just awakened.

Dean smiled at him, “Morning, Cas.”

Castiel ran his hand through his hair, “Morning, Dean.” He looked down at Dean’s lap, “Sorry about that. I must have…”

Dean shook his head, “No big one. You kept me warm.”

Castiel laughed, “Yeah, the heat in this place sucks.”

Suddenly, a piercing tone rang out from Dean’s pants, and he pulled a phone out of his back pocket. He read the message and then immediately stood up, “Well, duty calls.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s wrist and looked at his watch, “It’s only eight a.m.”

“Time and tide, right, Cas?” Dean playfully slapped Castiel’s cheek, “I gotta bounce. But, uh, this was fun. We should hang out like this again.”

“We still haven’t watched Wings of Desire together,” Castiel reminded him, and Dean smiled.

“That’s right, we haven’t. Tell you what, I’ll clear my schedule and give you a call. We’ll make a night of it. I pop a mean bowl of popcorn.”

Castiel nodded, “I’d like that, Dean.”

“Good. Now, if you could point me in the direction of your john, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Castiel watched Dean get into the rideshare and then quickly ran to his own car. He hoped Dean was too hungover to pay attention to a car following them, but he still tried to keep a safe distance in case Dean was as sharp as usual.

He wasn’t sure why he decided to follow Dean. Castiel didn’t like to dabble in the Shanahan family’s business, and most of Dean’s work was related to them, but he was becoming fond of Dean, fonder than he'd like to think about, and he was curious as to what exactly he did. Especially given every time he asked Mike or Craig, they pretended they didn’t hear him.

When the rideshare driver pulled into the parking lot of the bar they had been to the previous night, Castiel was stunned. Dean had lied. He hadn’t taken a Lyft to the bar; he had driven. Castiel’s stomach started turning, A sure sign his anxiety was about to rear its ugly head. If Dean had lied about how he got to the bar, did he lie about it being a coincidence that he was at the same bar as Castiel?

Dean watched the rideshare driver pull out of the parking lot before he got into the Impala. Castiel let him get a bit of a head start before he began following him again, and he felt his hands shaking around the wheel in the same way they had that first night when they met and he had to drive Dean to the motel.

They drove a few towns over, and Dean parked in front of a neighborhood bar with an “Open 24 Hours” sign in front of it. Castiel chuckled at Dean, the man who carried rolls of money on him, seemingly being a fan of dive bars. From a safe distance, he watched Dean enter the bar and wondered how long he would give himself on this stakeout. He needed to go to work, and he had to touch base with Hannah. But he was compelled to stay, repercussions be damned.

Half an hour later, Dean walked out of the bar with his arm around the shoulders of a man in a wrinkled three-piece suit. To casual onlookers, they looked like two drunk buddies after a night of tying one on. But Castiel got a look at the stranger’s face and saw terror on it.

When they got to the Impala, Dean popped the trunk, looked around to see if the coast was clear, and watched as the man with him got into it, seemingly on his own. Castiel was certain Dean had done something to coerce him into the trunk, but there was no outward proof of that. After he closed the trunk, Dean nonchalantly walked to the driver’s side and got in, driving away as casually as if he had just put groceries in his trunk.

Castiel swallowed hard. He could have just stayed put and let Dean drive away. He could have turned his car around, gone to work, and forgotten all about what he had seen. Instead, he waited a few beats and then pulled out into the street, determined to see what Dean had planned for the man in the trunk.

The man was hanging from the ceiling. A rusted metal hook pierced both his hands and left him dangling like a wind chime. The warehouse was in a part of town that the most proper people stayed away from, and if the man had his wits about him, he’d have been disgusted at the idea that anyone would see him there. But Dean was more concerned about his hands. He wasn’t sure the hook would hold him; it already seemed like it was tearing through his hands, and soon they’d be shredded, and the man would be on the floor. Dean preferred him in this position. He knew the man felt vulnerable and weak, and Dean got off on that more than he’d like to admit, even to himself.

In his right hand, Dean held a sledgehammer, and he gently tapped it in his left palm, testing the weight. The man’s eyes, wide with horror and pain, never left the hammer.

“Please,” he moaned, “I have money. I have so much money. I can give you whatever you want.”

Dean pretended to consider this, “I’m already getting paid for this, though.”

“I’ll pay you more!”

The ones who had it always offered him money. It amused him because if they had the money to give him, why didn’t they just pay up when he came calling? Not all of his work was extortion-related, but enough of it was that Dean learned quickly how cheap rich people really were…until they thought they were going to die.

“I don’t want more.” It was true. Dean didn’t do this work for the money. It was a helpful benefit; he needed money to live, but he would have done it for free as evidenced by his past before he began working for the Shanahans.

But it was especially true in this instance. The man before him not only owed the Shanahans money, but Dean had done some digging and discovered that he was well-known by the family for frequenting underaged prostitutes. Or, as Dean preferred to call it, raping children. Dean had no patience for anyone who hurt a child; if he had one weakness, that was it. Children needed to be protected, and Dean would kill a million men for absolutely no money if it meant protecting every child.

He knew he couldn’t protect every child, though, so he appreciated the times when the universe gave him opportunities like this. The Shanahans trusted Dean’s judgment. Not every visit from Dean Winchester ended in death. Many times, Dean would just scare someone enough to pay, and sometimes Dean just didn’t feel like being an enforcer, so he wouldn’t even press them for the money. His reputation within the family was that he was unpredictable enough to be incredibly useful. Word got out quickly that if the Shanahans sent the psycho with the green eyes to visit you, there was no telling how that encounter would end.

“I have money,” the man repeated, and Dean, tired of his whining, slammed the sledgehammer into his stomach, and the man gasped as the air was pushed out of his lungs.

“Fuck it,” Dean said mostly to himself as he swung the hammer again and made contact with the man’s face. Bone and blood exploded, covering Dean and motivating him to continue. Whack after whack caused more blood and bone and sprayed Dean until the hook finally tore all the way through the palms of both the man’s hands, sending him plunging to the floor. By this time, Dean was crazed with adrenaline and anger, and he just kept hitting the man, turning his head into pulp. When there was nothing left there to hit, he began working on the man’s body, bringing the sledgehammer down time after time until his arms finally got tired, and he noisily dropped the hammer.

Pushing his hair out of his face, he felt clumps of blood between his fingers and was unbothered. Once in a while, this was exactly what Dean needed. He could feel how hard his cock had gotten during the experience, and he chuckled to himself because that wasn’t something that usually happened. He looked down at the mess he had made of the man in the three-piece suit and waited for the calm of the aftermath of it all to take over. Instead, his peace was broken by the sound of retching—the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up.

Dean looked over at the stairway leading to the floor he was on and saw a hand gripping the rail. He slowly walked over and saw Castiel, about three stairs from making it to the top, bent over and throwing up everything but his shoes all over the stairway.

His heart already racing, Dean didn’t take any time to think and just grabbed Castiel by his shoulder while he was still vomiting.

“Cas,” he blurted out but said nothing else as he dragged his friend down the stairs. He brought him outside and threw him against the Impala.

“Why did you follow me?”

Castiel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at Dean, horrified, “I don’t know.”

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Dean opened the back door and bent over into the back seat. He pulled out a small black case and brought it to the hood of the car. “Come here.”

Castiel numbly walked to the front of the car and stood next to Dean. “Dean…” Before he could say another word, Dean stuck a needle in his neck. Pressing the plunger into the syringe, he watched as the drug took quick effect on Castiel, and the bartender fainted into Dean’s arms.

Dean dragged the unconscious Castiel to the back of the car and tossed him into the trunk, much like he had the man in the three-piece suit. He looked down at Castiel’s peaceful face and shook his head.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he whispered as he closed the trunk.

Chapter Text

As Castiel woke up, he couldn’t understand why his body felt so warm and comfortable, but his face and neck were sore. He opened his eyes and sat up in the middle of a king-sized bed covered in comforters. He immediately fell back on the pillows when his head started spinning.

He felt something pressing against his face, and as the fog started to lift from his brain slowly, he realized he was gagged. A leather strap was wrapped around his head, and there was a ring forcing his mouth open into a lewdly large O. Castiel thought it odd someone had taken the time to gag him but not tie him down. He only wished he had the power to get himself out of the strange bed he was in.

Castiel put his hand to the back of his head and felt a buckle, but hanging from it was a small piece of metal that he rightly assumed was a padlock of sorts. He tugged at the strap but couldn’t loosen it and soon got tired of the fight. He wondered what kind of drug he’d been given because he felt light and relaxed and, under different circumstances, wouldn’t have minded feeling this way more often, even if it was difficult to think or even sit up.

“You’re awake,” a deep, quiet voice said from the foot of the bed, but Castiel didn’t bother trying to look over at who it was. As he closed his eyes, he felt a gentle touch on his cheek.

“Don’t pretend to be asleep, Cas.”

Dean. Castiel recognized Dean’s voice, and slowly, he began to remember. His heart started racing, and he struggled to sit up. He couldn’t be alone with him—not after what he saw Dean do to that man.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and gently ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “Relax, Cas. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Castiel’s eyes were still wide with fear, but something was soothing in Dean’s touch.

“I know…” Dean trailed off. “I don’t know what I know, Cas. I know you’re scared, and I don’t blame you. What you saw,” Dean shook his head, “I never meant for you to see. You weren’t supposed to see that part of my life.”

Castiel moved his head back and forth, trying to entice Dean to remove the gag.

Dean smiled softly, “Sorry about the gag, Cas. It was the only one I had handy. “He stroked Castiel’s cheek again, “It’s obscene but effective.”

Castiel began making sounds behind the gag and using his eyes to plead with Dean.

“I can’t take it off yet, Cas.” He sighed, “Because I don’t have a fucking plan.” Standing up, Dean began to pace next to the bed. “This isn’t how I wanted to bring you to my home, Cas. This isn’t what I wanted.” Dean looked genuinely sad, “We were doing so well, weren’t we? Shit, I had actually made a friend.”

Dean sat next to Castiel again, “I was hoping we’d get to know each other a little more before you ended up in my bed.”

Castiel struggled to sit up, and Dean let him. He slowly pushed himself against the headboard and looked pleadingly at his captor.

Dean sighed again, “I can’t resist those blue eyes.” He removed a small key from his jeans pocket and unlocked the tiny padlock. Gently, he unbuckled the strap and took the gag out of Castiel’s mouth, placing it on the table next to the bed.

Castiel stretched his mouth, opening and closing it, and then rubbed his face a few times before speaking, “Dean, I need to go home.”  Castiel’s voice was still thick and slow from whatever drug Dean had injected into him.

Dean pulled back the blankets and nodded to Castiel’s lower body. To Castiel’s shock, he was completely nude.

“You can’t go anywhere like that, Cas.”

Castiel looked concerned, and Dean shook his head.

“Nothing happened. I just got rid of your clothes. And your car.” Dean thought about it, “And your phone. And your wallet and everything in it.”

“What?”

“Cas, I had no idea what I was gonna do. So, I threw you in my trunk, finished my job, and then had to deal with you.”

“Your job. Beating that man to death with a sledgehammer? That’s your job?” Still woozy, Castiel let his head rest on the headboard.

“What did you think I did, Cas? You had to have some idea.”

“No.” Castiel protested, but he knew Dean was right. Mike wouldn’t be as afraid of Dean as he was if Dean didn’t do some truly terrible things. Castiel knew that from the start.

“I’m not gonna fight with you, Cas. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“My car? My stuff?”

“Incinerated. No one will find any of it.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Dean ran his hand through Castiel’s hair again, “I wanted to keep you, I guess. I didn’t want to lose you because of what you saw.”

Castiel lifted his hands, “Then why didn’t you tie me down?”

“Because I don’t have to,” Dean said just as he plunged another needle into Castiel’s neck.

The next time Castiel woke up, he wasn’t tied down, he wasn’t gagged, and his mind, though still sluggish, wasn’t as dizzy as it had been before. He slowly slipped out of the bed and, struggling to keep his balance, walked toward the closed bedroom door. Next to the door was a chair with a pair of black pajama pants and a white t-shirt lying on it. Still naked, Castiel appreciatively put the clothes on before trying to leave. He expected the door to be locked and was confused as the knob turned easily in his hand and the door pulled open.

Unsure of his next move, he shuffled through a short hallway and followed the sound of music that he heard coming from somewhere in the house. He couldn’t place it at first, but as he got closer to it and the volume increased, he recognized the familiar stylings of Led Zeppelin.

Making his way into an open space living area, he saw Dean lying on a couch. One arm was draped across his eyes, and the other was slowly stroking his exposed cock.

Dean was oblivious to anything going on around him, and Castiel watched with rapt fascination as he masturbated in rhythm to the song that was playing. Castiel couldn’t help noticing how large Dean’s cock was, even obscured by Dean’s fairly large hand, and for a moment, he forgot that he wasn’t at Dean’s by choice as he felt his own cock start to get hard.

Unsure of what he should do, Castiel turned to go back to the bedroom, and in the process, he kicked an end table he hadn’t seen and knocked a lamp off of it. The lamp's crashing sound as it hit the floor brought Dean back from wherever he was, and he immediately jumped up and faced Castiel.

“Fuck, Cas! You scared the shit out of me!”

Castiel’s eyes went directly to Dean’s exposed and still extremely hard cock.

Dean looked down at his cock and chuckled, “That’s one in the win column, right?”

Castiel watched as Dean tucked his cock back into his pants and adjusted himself.

“Are you hungry?” Dean asked casually as if Castiel wasn’t his prisoner and he hadn’t just seen him jerking off.

“I guess,” Castiel stayed put as Dean approached him.

Dean gently grabbed Castiel’s elbow, “Come on. I’ll whip up something in the kitchen.”

Dean led Castiel through another hall and brought him into the kitchen. The ceiling was covered by two large skylights that let the sun brighten the entire room.

“You cook?” Castiel let Daen sit him at the table while he went over to the refrigerator.

“I live alone and won’t let anyone deliver food here, so,” Dean nodded, “yeah, I cook.”

“Dean, I should…”

“My pajamas look good on you,” Dean interrupted as he began making what turned out to be breakfast. “I thought they might be a little big, but only the length, huh? You have a nicer body than you let on.”

Castiel looked away, embarrassed because that was what he had been thinking about Dean. Then he had a flash of Dean bringing that sledgehammer down on that man’s face, and he jumped up from the table.

Still too drugged to move very fast, he tried to push past Dean and get out of the kitchen, but Dean quickly turned off the stove, grabbed Castiel’s arm, and forcefully threw him back onto the kitchen chair.

“Don’t fuck with me, Cas,” Dean’s voice was calm, almost soothing. “I don’t wanna hurt you, but I’m not gonna let you fuck with me either.”

“I can’t be here,” Castiel protested.

“Right now, you don’t have a choice.” Dean turned back to the stove and looked at Castiel, “Are you gonna be good? Can I make us breakfast? Or do I have to tie you to the bed?”

Even in his foggy state, Castiel knew he had a better chance of escaping if Dean didn’t tie him down. “I’m okay,” he responded.

“Good. Because I make the best western omelet in the Midwest, and I’ve never gotten to share it with anyone, so settle in.”

They ate in silence, Dean digging in happily while Castiel picked at his food and only ate a few small bites. When Dean noticed how little Castiel was eating, he frowned.

“You need to eat, Cas. It’s been days.”

“How long is days?”

“Does it really matter? Just eat.”

“People are going to be looking for me. Hannah…Mike…”

“I’m not worried about it. Eat.”

Castiel looked around the kitchen, “Could I have something to drink?”

Dean was embarrassed and threw down his fork, “Jesus, I’m a fucking idiot. Of course you can, Cas.”  He went to the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice. “Is juice okay?”

Castiel nodded and watched as Dean poured a glass and then took something out of his pocket. He couldn’t tell what it was, but he saw Dean’s arm moving and knew he was putting something in his drink.

When Dean placed the glass in front of Castiel, Castiel pushed it away. “I’m okay.”

Dean sat back down, “Drink it, Cas.”

Castiel shook his head, “I’m not thirsty.”

“Either drink it, or I’ll make you drink it.” Dean didn’t sound angry, but Castiel could tell that he meant what he was saying.

He took the glass and slowly began sipping it.

“Drink it all. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I feel fine.”

“This will make you feel better.”

“Dean, whatever you’re drugging me with…”

Dean’s eyes fixed on Castiel’s face, annoyed with the pushback, “Cas, you have two choices. I keep drugging you to keep you…let’s say agreeable…and I let you sleep in my bed without any restraints. OR you fight me about this, and I have to restrain you. And then, instead of sleeping in my bed, I’m going to chain you to a water heater in my cellar. And I feel like I don’t have to tell you that most folks who end up there never come back up here.”

“Most?” Castiel wasn’t sure why he focused on that word, but he did.

“None, Cas. No one who ended up in my cellar ever came back up. Got it?”

Castiel nodded as he finished the orange juice.

“Good choice.”

Whatever was in the juice, Castiel could already feel it kicking in.

“Dean,” he wanted to get some things out before the drugs really took effect. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill you, Cas.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“If you’re good, I won’t kill you. But if you aren’t…” Dean sighed, “Cas, it would break my heart if I had to kill you.”

Castiel tilted his head and squinted at Dean, utterly confused, “It would?”

“I love you, Cas,” Dean breathed a sigh of relief, “Shit, that actually felt kind of good.”

“You love me?” Castiel’s words slurred, and Dean's face was starting to get fuzzy.

“Yeah, Cas. I love you. I’ve loved you almost since we met. That’s why I didn’t want you to see…”

“You can’t love me. We barely know each other…”

“That’s not how love works, Cas. Sorry.” Dean shrugged.

“You love me?” Castiel asked again just before his head hit the table.

Dean ran his hand through the unconscious man’s hair and whispered, “Yeah, Cas, I love you.”

“Please, you don’t have to do this!” the man begged as Dean led him at gunpoint through his yard.

“I kind of do pal. Sorry.” Dean nudged the man with his gun, and they turned down the path leading to the animals’ pens. The pigs' squealing got louder as the men approached them.

The frightened man looked confused. “What is this?”

“Those are my hogs,” Dean offered. “Well, those,” he pointed to one pen, “are my hogs. These are my pigs,” he pointed to the pen in front of them. “People think they’re the same, but they aren’t.”

The man didn’t seem particularly interested in the differences between hogs and pigs.

“Please,” he faced Dean, who put the muzzle of the gun against his nose. “Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not gonna kill you, Ted,” Dean said plainly. “I’m gonna knock you out.” He pointed to the pigs, “They’re gonna kill you. See, they’re really hungry. I haven’t fed them in a while, and they’re super hungry and, well, once you’re unconscious, I’m gonna throw you in their pen, and they’ll make short order of you.”

Terrified, the man dropped to his knees, “Please! PLEASE don’t do this. Shoot me, stab me…anything else but that!”

Dean started laughing. A full-throated, genuine laugh as he stared at the man on his knees. “If you had paid the family what you owed, we wouldn’t even be here. But now? You can’t deny me this, man. I’ve been planning this one out for weeks. I can’t wait to see if it actually works!”

The man’s eyes widened, and he jumped up, looking at something behind Dean, “YOU! Please, please help me! He’s insane!” The man started to run, and Dean tripped him. As the man hit the ground, Dean shot him in the back on his knee, causing the man to scream. The screams only increased when Dean shot the man’s other knee.

“Why do they always have to make it hard?” Dean asked himself. Then he looked up to see Castiel, in yet another pair of Dean’s pajamas, staring at them both.

“Cas,” Dean was genuinely surprised. He had been experimenting with different drugs to keep Castiel docile, and he thought the last mix would have knocked him out for a while.

Castiel looked disoriented and stared at Dean as if he didn’t recognize him, “I heard dogs.”

“Please! Help me!” the man called from the ground, and Dean kicked him in the ribs.

“I wanted to see the dogs,” Castiel said dreamily.

Dean grabbed the man by his collar and threw him against the pig pen. “Cas, go back to the house.”

Castiel looked around, “Where are the dogs?”

Dean flipped the man over the short fence encasing the pen and he landed on his back. Immediately curious, all five pigs ran to his body and began sniffing at him. One of them rubbed their snout against the blood on his leg and immediately started gnawing at him. Seeing their brother start in, the other starving pigs attacked, chewing on any part they could reach.

If Dean had neighbors, they surely would have heard the man’s screams. Luckily for him, there was no one but Castiel to hear, and Castiel was in no shape to do anything but dazedly walk over to the pen and watch in shell-shocked fascination as the pigs tore away at the man’s flesh as if it were tissue paper.

In their feeding frenzy, the pigs shook their heads as they pulled the skin away from the man’s bones and, in doing so, sprayed blood all over Castiel, who didn’t even flinch as he continued watching the carnage.

Dean put his arm around the thoroughly confused Castiel, “Come on, Cas. Let’s get you back up to the house.”

Castiel let Dean lead him back, confused about what he just witnessed but with an unsettling feeling that it had been bad.

“Why did he get in the trunk?”

Castiel was sitting on the couch with Dean. A fire was roaring, and he was drinking a cup of tea while Dean nursed a glass of scotch.

“What?” Dean was amused and confused by the question. It was the first night he didn’t over-medicate Castiel because Castiel had shown less and less eagerness to escape over the last few days since the incident with the pigs. So, they had dinner in the kitchen and now sat in the living room as if what was going on was normal. Castiel hadn’t said much until he posed the question.

“That day. The last day before you brought me here. I saw you get the man from the bar, and he just got in your trunk. You didn’t have to force him or anything.”

Dean noted quietly that if Castiel remembered that, he might have to go back to drugging him again.

“I told him if he didn’t cooperate, I’d track down his kids and kill them slowly. I guess he believed me.” Dean saw no benefit in lying to Castiel at this point.

“Would you have? Killed his kids?”

Dean shook his head, “No. I don’t do that.”

Castiel believed him.

“But you killed him.”

“I did.”

“And that’s what you do. You kill people.”

“Usually. Not always. Sometimes I just collect the money they owe the family.”

Castiel nodded as if that made perfect sense.

“I’m not gonna kill you, Cas.”

“You don’t want to kill me. It’s not the same thing.”

“I’m not gonna kill you, Cas. I’m telling you, I’m not gonna kill you.”

“Then let me go.”

“No.”

“Why not? Are you afraid I’ll tell someone what I saw…both times?” Castiel didn’t wait for Dean to respond, “Why did you do it that way? With the dogs?”

“They were pigs.”

Castiel nodded again, “It’s still kind of jumbled in my head.”

“You were pretty fucked up.”

“I didn’t like how that made me feel. I didn’t know what was real; it was unsettling.”

“I don’t know; you’re kind of cute when you’re tripping balls.”

Castiel shook his head vehemently, “I didn’t like it.” He looked at Dean, “So why? Why like that?”

Dean scratched his head and groaned before responding, “Cas, there’s a lot about me you don’t know. Let’s leave it at that.”

“You like it. Killing people.”

“I don’t NOT like it,” Dean admitted.

“So, what’s wrong with just shooting someone?”

Dean chuckled, “Is that your problem with this? Not that I kill people but HOW I do it?”

“You turned that guy’s head into mush. And that other guy, outside…those dogs…pigs ate him alive.”

“And?”

“And? And why? Why do it that way? So violently. So graphically violent, Dean.”

Dean slid over on the couch and, without warning, wrapped one hand around Castiel’s throat. He pushed against him so their bodies were pinned against each other, and he whispered in Castiel’s ear, “Because it feels good. It turns me on, Cas. The fear in their eyes, how they beg, fuck, Cas, it’s a power trip, you know?” He pulled back but kept his hand wrapped around Castiel’s neck, holding him just tight enough to leave a mark.

“I’m finally in control, so I can do what I want.” He squeezed Castiel’s neck a little tighter and then let go.

Castiel absently fingered his sore neck, still warm from Dean’s hand, “It’s so brutal, though.”

“Eye of the beholder, Cas. I think it’s fucking hot.” He stroked Castiel’s cheek, “It’s okay if you don’t, though.”

Confident that he didn’t piss off Dean, Castiel decided to keep talking, “How long are you going to keep me here, Dean?”

Dean sighed, “You still wanna leave, huh? I guess I can’t blame you; I haven’t been much of a host. But, Cas, you gotta understand, you can’t. Not right now.” He scoffed, “I was too impulsive with you, and I had no plan.” He wagged his finger at Castiel, “But that was your fault for following me, wasn’t it.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Boy, was he sorry.

“I know. But it’s too late now.” Dean looked at his watch, “I need to go make a call. All the doors and windows are locked, Cas and the alarms are on. If you try to take off, I’ll catch you, and then, well…you’ll be doing a lot worse than tripping balls, okay?”

“I won’t try to leave,” Castiel promised as Dean stood up.

“Good. I’m gonna trust you, Cas. Don’t disappoint me.”

Castiel watched Dean leave, and when he had been gone for a few minutes, he took the opportunity to start looking around the room. He was surprised to spot a laptop in the corner and impulsively grabbed it. Sitting back on the couch, he opened it and was again surprised, this time because there was no password on it. He went to the search engine and typed in his name, hoping to see something about himself.

As the links populated, he noted the date on the computer. If he remembered correctly, the current date meant he’d be at Dean’s for almost a month. Being drugged most of the time had made it feel shorter but now he was certain he’d see something about him in the local news.

But when he finally got the search results, there was nothing. No mentions of a missing bartender. No friends of Castiel Novak offered a reward to anyone who knew where he was. Nothing.

How was that possible? How did someone go missing for a month without it being mentioned anywhere?

“Cas?” The disappointment was thick in Dean’s voice.

Castiel didn’t even bother closing the laptop. He put it on the coffee table before him and sat back on the couch.

“They aren’t even looking for me,” he said quietly.

Dean sat down next to him, “Who?”

“Anyone,” Castiel’s voice started to shake, “Mike, Hannah, my family…”

“You have family?”

“A brother and his family,” Castiel practically whispered. “No one’s looking for me.”

Dean leaned over and closed the laptop, “Maybe we should go to bed, Cas.”

Castiel tilted his head, “Aren’t you mad that I went online? Aren’t you worried I tried to contact someone?”

“Did you?”

Castiel paused before he shook his head.

“Then let’s go to bed.”

Castiel was under the covers, lying on his side, as close to the edge of the bed as possible. Dean had started sleeping in the same bed with him recently, and Castiel always made sure there was a lot of space between them.

Dean got into bed and was surprised when Castiel shuffled his body to get closer to the middle of the bed. Dean turned on his side as if he were about to spoon Castiel, but he left enough space between them so that wasn’t possible. He reached over and put his hand on Castiel’s waist, “I’d be looking for you, Cas. If you went missing, I’d look for you,” Dean whispered.

Castiel moved his body until his back pressed against Dean’s chest, but he didn’t say anything. Dean draped his arm over Castiel and held him as they both fell asleep without saying another word.

Chapter Text

Castiel sat on the tub's edge as he let Dean shave his face.

Well, he wasn’t letting him as much as Dean demanded. Dean refused to give Castiel the razor to shave.

“You haven’t shaved in weeks,” Castiel pointed out. Dean’s only response was a chuckle.

Dean studied Castiel’s face when he was finished as if it were a masterpiece he’d just completed. “Perfect. Now let’s go!”

“Go?” Castiel’s heart raced. He hadn’t been off the farm since Dean brought him there. Hell, he’d only been outside at all a handful of times. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you out to dinner.”

Dean saw the light in Castiel’s eyes brighten.

“Don’t get any big ideas, Cas. We’re going to a hole in the wall where no one knows me, and if you even flinch in a way I don’t like…it will be bad. Got it?”

Castiel nodded, but he was quietly trying to figure out how he could finally get home.

Dean didn’t lie. They drove over half an hour before he turned onto a dirt road, and then it was another twenty minutes before they got to the restaurant. Castiel thought calling it a restaurant was generous…it served food, but it looked to be nothing more than a barn fixed with a kitchen, a bar, and some bathrooms. Throw in a dozen tables, including the one shoved in the darkest corner where Dean insisted they sit, and that was it.

Dean ordered bourbon for both of them and insisted Castiel sit in the chair that was against the wall. When their drinks arrived, Dean held his hand out to Castiel.

“Take this.”

For a moment, Castiel thought Dean wanted to hold his hand until he saw something was lying in Dean’s palm.

“What is it?”

Take it. Wash it down with the bourbon and it’ll make you feel better.”

“I feel fine.” It was true. The less Dean drugged him, the clearer his head was; the more he could work on a plan to escape, the better Castiel felt. He wasn’t inclined to take the pill Dean was offering.

“I’m not asking, Cas.” Dean looked sad, “I thought that night with the laptop, we had a moment. I thought you had given up on leaving me. But I saw it in your eyes tonight in the bathroom. You can’t wait to leave.” He sighed, “And I’m not ready to let that happen. So, take the goddamn pill before I do something you won’t like.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Castiel said. He wasn’t certain this was true, but he felt good enough to test Dean.

Dean looked over at the closest table to them. Two women were sitting together loudly enjoying each other’s company. He turned back to Castiel.

“What about them? Think I’d hurt one of them?”

Castiel knew he would. He reluctantly took the pill out of Dean’s hand and followed it with a gulp of bourbon.

“Good boy.”

Castiel tried to ignore that Dean’s praise pleased him.

“What’s this going to do?”

“I told you; it’ll make you feel good. Relaxed. Just like all the other stuff. Except this one will keep you awake.” Dean winked at him, “And very agreeable.”

Dean noted it had already started to kick in when Castiel just nodded and smiled in response.

The entire evening was uneventful, except for the fact that Castiel genuinely enjoyed himself and didn’t once think about running away. On the ride back to the farm, Castiel studied Dean as he drove, laser-focused on the road.

“How did you find the farm?” Castiel asked.

“It belonged to a friend who didn’t want it anymore.”

Dean’s tone told even a stoned Castiel that he didn’t want to talk about it, but Castiel continued.

“It’s nice. I like the quiet.”

“Me too.” Dean looked over at Castiel quickly, “How you feeling?”

“Great!” And he was. Dean had given him two more pills during dinner, and Castiel was feeling loose and content.

“Good.”

“Do you use drugs, Dean?”

Dean chuckled at the innocence of the question, “You know I do. Remember when you drove me to the motel?”

“Oh yeah.” Castiel thought about it. “Do they make you feel this good?”

Dean looked over at Castiel again, smiling stupidly, and he laughed, “Nope.”

“I should have been doing drugs all along. Would have made everything better.”

“I’m not sure it works that way, Cas.”

“Then why do you keep giving them to me?”

“So you won’t fight me. I don’t want to hurt you. This way, I don’t have to.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” Castiel was more sure of himself this time.

Dean sighed, “I hope not.”

Ignoring what Dean said, Castiel looked at his hands on the steering wheel.

“Dean, your hand is bleeding.”

Dean looked down and saw blood on the top of his right hand. “Dammit. That gash keeps splitting open. Do me a favor, Cas. In the glove box, there are some bandages. Get ‘em for me, okay?”

Castiel opened the glove compartment and pulled out a box of bandages. He grabbed a small bottle of alcohol that was in there and took out a prescription bottle as well.

“What’s this?”

With his bloodied hand, Dean took the bottle of pills away from Castiel and shoved them in his pocket. “Nothing you need to worry about. Let me have the bandage.”

“I'll do it.” Castiel took Dean’s hand and, without warning, poured some alcohol on it.

“Fuck!” Dean yelled as he pulled his hand away. “What the fuck, Cas?”

“I had to clean it, Dean.” Castiel moved closer to Dean on the bench seat and took Dean’s hand again, “Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not being a baby,” Dean pouted. “That fucking hurt.”

Castiel poured more alcohol on it and held Dean’s hand tight when he tried to pull away.

“Cas! For fuck’s sake!”

“I don’t want it to get infected, Dean. It looks pretty bad.”

“It’s not. It’s just a cut.”

“How’d you get it?” Castiel gently put the bandage on it and pressed down so it would stay. He rested his hand on the seat but continued holding Dean’s hand.

“You don’t wanna know.”

Castiel shrugged, “I asked.”

“Okay. My last job didn’t go as smoothly as they usually do, and I ended up putting my hand through a floorboard.”

“That’s why your knuckles are all bruised.”

“No. That happened when I got my hand out of the board and beat the fuck out of the guy who made me do it.”

Castiel was still absently holding Dean’s hand, “Did you kill him?”

“What do you think?”

“Have you ever killed a woman, Dean?”

Dean stared straight ahead and didn’t respond. Castiel could feel his pulse as he held Dean’s hand.

“Have you?”

“Yeah,” Dean whispered. “I have.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not usually, Cas.” He looked over at him, “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Can I have another pill?”

Dean’s mood brightened, “You like those huh?”

“I like feeling like this without having to sleep.”

Dean took his hand from Castiel’s, and Castiel tried not to look disappointed. He took the pill bottle out of his pocket and tossed it over. “Just take one.”

Castiel happily took a pill from the bottle and returned it to Dean.

“There’s a cooler in the back seat with beer in it if you want. The alcohol gives it a kick.”

Castiel bent over the seat and came back holding two beers. He handed one to Dean, who smiled at him.

“Aren’t you being the good boy tonight?”

Castiel sipped his beer, enjoying how the pill felt as it slipped down his throat, and moved close enough to Dean so they were almost shoulder to shoulder.

 “Do you miss your family, Dean?”

Dean chuckled. “Those things sure make you chatty, Cas.”

“This car, your jacket, you said they were your dad’s…is he dead?”

“Yeah, he’s dead. Has been for a while. My mother too.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugged, “What about you? You said you have a brother?”

“Yeah, Jimmy.” Castiel rolled his eyes, “Our parents died when we were kids, and our aunt raised us. She died right after Jimmy graduated high school, and he tried taking care of me, but…didn’t really work.”

“Why not?”

“I had just started high school when she died. Jimmy got a scholarship to college; he was ready to bolt. He didn’t want to take care of a teenager. So, he went to school, and I dropped out, and here we are.”

“So where is he now?”

“Boston.”

“Boston? Do you ever see him?”

“We talk about once a week. That’s mostly because of his wife, though. She makes him reach out.” Castiel rested his head on the back of the seat, “I don’t want to talk about Jimmy. Tell me about your family.”

“Okay. I have a brother too. But he’s younger. Sammy. He’s a lawyer. Really smart kid. It’s a miracle, really, how well he’s done.”

“Do you see him?”

Dean scoffed, “Nope. He can’t stand me. Lives in the state too but I probably haven’t seen him in at least five years.”

“Why can’t he stand you?”

“Come on, Cas. There are only two types of people in my life. Half of them are afraid of me, and the other half hate me.”

“Where do you think I fall in?”

Dean shook his head, “I’d guess you have a foot in both camps, don’t you?”

“If you think I hate you, why make me stay?”

“Because I don’t hate you.”

 “You love me.”

Dean sighed as if he were annoyed with himself, “I love you.”

“No offense, Dean, but you have a weird way of showing love.”

Instead of upsetting Dean, this made him laugh out loud. Castiel was once again happy that he had seemingly pleased Dean.

“Cas, you are too fucking much,” Dean wiped away the tears of laughter streaming down his face. He looked in the rearview mirror and noticed a car behind them. Immediately, he stopped laughing.

“Cas, I need you to get down, okay?”

“Is everything all right, Dean?”

“No. Lay down.” When Castiel didn’t move, Dean yelled, “NOW Cas!”

Castiel quickly lay down, placing his head on Dean’s lap.

Dean continued driving, alternating between watching the road and watching the car in the rearview.

“Dean, are you all right?” Castiel thought he could hear Dean’s heart pounding.

Dean ran his bandaged hand through Castiel’s hair, “I’m fine. Just keep quiet and stay down, okay?”

Castiel nodded, and Dean stroked his cheek.

“Good boy.”

Dean drove for a few miles more, with the car still on his tail, when he came upon an abandoned parking lot. He’d have been less paranoid had there been any other cars on the road, but it had only been the two, and the car behind him never even attempted to pass him. So, Dean was fairly certain whoever was driving that car was looking for him.

“I need you to stay down, Cas, okay?” Dean whispered as he parked the car and watched the other car pull into the parking lot.

“I will, Dean.”

Dean opened the door, and as he got out, he let Castiel’s head gently rest on the seat. The other car pulled about twenty feet away, shining its headlights on Dean and his car. Dean's gun was hidden under his coat, in the waist of his pants. He was confident he could get to it quickly if needed.

He watched someone exit the car and begin walking toward him. With the headlights shining in his eyes, all he could make out was the shadow of a person. It wasn’t until they walked into the light that Dean recognized the face. He was a lawyer who the family had gone up against in court. After a few visits from Dean to various family members who ended up in the hospital or took off after meeting Dean, the lawyer quit his job and left the family alone. Dean had met him only once to warn him off, and had always felt a twinge of regret that he didn’t end him when he had the opportunity.

Now he was face to face with him, and the man did not look like he wanted to have drinks and chit-chat.

“Dean Winchester,” the man, who Dean suddenly realized was pointing a gun at him, said cooly. “It took a long time to find you.”

“You,” was all Dean said.

The man scoffed, “I bet you don’t even remember my name, do you? It took me long enough to find out yours. And here we are.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“I’m going to kill you. Does that frighten you?” The man studied Dean’s face, “I bet it does, but you won’t admit it. People like you think you’ll never get caught. You think you can’t be touched. Well, guess what?”

The biggest mistake amateurs made was talking too much. This both amused and annoyed Dean to no end, but he let the man continue.

“I found you, and I’m going to kill you. You’re touchable, Dean Winchester.”

“I’d rather you didn’t touch me if it’s all the same to you,” Dean deadpanned.

Unamused, the man shook his head, “I wish I could have told people about you. Wish someone would else would know who you are once you’re dead. Know what a piece of shit you were and what a service I’m doing by killing you.”

“Man, if you’re gonna pull the trigger, pull the fucking trigger and shut the fuck up.”

His hand shaking, the lawyer did as Dean demanded and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He looked at his gun in confusion and Dean took that opportunity to tackle him, knocking the gun out of his hand as he threw him to the ground.

Dean began punching the man, but the lawyer got some momentum and grabbed Dean’s waist and felt the gun there. Before Dean could stop him, the lawyer pulled out Dean’s gun and pointed it at his face.

Holding up his hands, Dean backed off the man and stood up. The lawyer struggled to stand but did, the gun aimed at Dean the entire time.

“This gun probably won’t misfire, right?” The lawyer asked. “Killed with your own gun.” He smiled, “That’s rich.”

Dean’s heart was racing. This wasn’t the first time he’d come face to face with the very real possibility of his own death, but it was the first time someone as unworthy, in Dean’s mind, as this lawyer was the one who might just do it.

The lawyer put the gun up against Dean’s mouth, and Dean noticed the man’s hands were suddenly steady. He was ready to kill.

“I hope there’s someone who’s going to miss you. I hope there’s someone who will forever wonder what happened to you.”

“There isn’t,” Dean said quietly.

“Yes there is,” Castiel said. He approached from the passenger’s side of the Impala, hiding in the darkness where the lawyer’s headlights didn’t reach, and he was holding a gun, aiming it at the lawyer. “Put down the gun,” he calmly demanded.

Surprised to see someone else there, the man looked over at Castiel and then back at Dean, “No.”  As he pulled the trigger, Dean hit his arm, and instead of a direct hit on Dean, the bullet went into his leg. With a grunt, Dean hit the ground, and the man stood over him, holding the gun at his face, “Goodbye, Dean Winchester.”

A shot rang out, and Dean flinched. It took him a moment to realize he hadn’t been hit again and as he did, the lawyer’s body crumpled to the ground, a gaping, bloody hole blown through his cheek, just under his left eye.

Grabbing his gun off the ground, Dean struggled to stand, groaning at the pain in his leg. He aimed his gun at the man, contemplating whether he should put another bullet in him. It didn’t take long for Dean to realize that it would be pointless. The lawyer was dead. Very much dead.

Dean looked over at Castiel, still aiming the gun, holding it with both hands. He was shaking, and his face relayed the horror he felt at what he’d done, but the gun was still perfectly aimed.

Slowly, Dean limped over to Castiel and gently tugged the gun out of his grip.

“It was in the glove compartment,” Castiel whispered. “I saw it when I got the bandages.”

“I know where it was,” Dean’s voice was gentle. “Cas, get back in the car.”

“He shot you,” Castiel was slowly coming around. “Dean, he shot you!”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, he did.” Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes. “I’m gonna need your help, Cas. To clean this mess up. To fix me up. To get us back to the farm. Can you do that?”

Castiel nodded, “I can do that, Dean.”

Dean reached out and gently touched Castiel’s cheek, “You just saved my fucking life, Cas. I don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s just get this done, Dean,” Castiel walked over to the body.

Dean lay on the couch, drinking straight from a bottle of bourbon. Castiel was on the floor next to him, on his knees, dressing the wound on Dean’s leg. With his pants off so Castiel could work, Dean felt a bit exposed, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and boxer shorts.

It had taken hours to clean up the parking lot, especially with Dean hurt, but they had done it, and when they got back to the farm, Castiel insisted on taking care of Dean. The bullet had gone straight through (and Castiel, after finding it in the parking lot, decided to keep it), but Dean had lost a lot of blood, and Castiel was wrapping his leg up as tightly as he could.

“Between your hand and your leg, you’re going to look like a mummy when I’m done with you,” Castiel teased as he finished. He stood up and sat in the chair next to the couch. “I wish you’d let me take you to the hospital, Dean.”

“Hospitals have to report gunshot wounds, Cas. How would I explain this?”

“I don’t know. It was your gun. You could say you shot yourself cleaning it.”

“You think my gun is registered?” Dean took another sip of bourbon, “I’m fine, Cas. You took good care of me. Thanks.”

Castiel leaned back in the chair, “So much for my buzz.”

“There’s more in my jacket,” Dean offered.

“Right now, I think I’d rather have something that helped me sleep. Doesn’t feel like I’m going to get to sleep anytime soon.”

Dean forced himself to sit up and handed the bottle to Castiel, who took a long sip and then kept the bottle.

“I’m sorry, Cas. Sorry I dragged you into this.” He paused, “But for what it’s worth…thank you. You know, for saving me.”

Castiel closed his eyes as he continued drinking from the bottle, “You’re welcome, Dean.”

“I owe you.”

“It was awful,” Castiel ignored what Dean had said. “Seeing that bullet tear through his face. Knowing I did it.”

“I know.”

“But,” Castiel sighed, “I’m not sorry I did it, Dean. I’m actually glad I did it.” He chuckled cynically, “I don’t even know who he was and I’m still glad.”

“Cas…”

“He was going to kill you.”

“I told you to stay in the car.”

Castiel took a huge gulp of bourbon, “But I didn’t.”

“No…you didn’t.”

“Are you going to give me a pill or something, Dean?”

“Do you want something?”

“I think I do.”

“Why don’t you bring that bottle with you to bed, Cas? You’ll be out soon enough. I’ll crash here.”

“No.”

“No?” Dean was a little surprised, “What do you mean no?”

“I don’t want to go to bed alone, Dean.”

Castiel helped Dean into bed, taking care not to hurt his leg. He gently put the blanket over him before he walked around the bed and got under the covers himself. Dean was sitting up against the headboard, his left hand behind his head, when Castiel got settled in.

“Are you okay?” He finally asked Castiel.

“I will be.” Castiel paused, “I think.”

“Get some sleep. Like my mother used to say, ‘Everything looks better in the light of day.’”

Castiel nodded as he turned on his side, facing Dean. After a few moments, he moved over in the bed and put his right arm over Dean’s body, pulling him against his own body as he snuggled up next to him.

Surprised by Castiel’s presence, Dean put his right arm around him, “Cas?”

“Let’s go to sleep, Dean,” Castiel murmured as he laid his head on Dean’s chest. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel as he slid into the bed. “That’s a great idea, Cas.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Castiel woke up in Dean’s bed alone. Spotting the bottle of pills from the night before on Dean’s side table, Castiel tossed two in his mouth and made his way to the kitchen, where he clearly heard Dean speaking to someone.

As usual, he was wearing Dean’s clothes, a blue T-shirt, and an old pair of jeans as he padded barefoot into the kitchen. His hair was tousled, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week, and he had the scruff of five o’clock shadow decorating his face. Dean, standing by the sink, looked over at him and smiled.

“Look who’s up,” he teased.

Castiel grunted and grabbed a beer from the fridge to wash down the pills. It wasn’t until he turned away from the refrigerator that he saw the stranger sitting at the table.

“Shit!” Castiel instinctively hid the beer bottle behind his back. His eyes darted to Dean for some reassurance, and Dean nodded.

“It’s okay, Cas. That’s my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Cas.”

Castiel wasn’t reassured and stood there silently.

“Hi,” Sam’s voice was husky like Dean’s but not quite as deep. He stood up, his hand outstretched, and to Castiel, he thought he was looking at a giant. Sam was thin, but the T-shirt he was wearing clung to his chest and betrayed the excellent physical shape he was in. And he stood a good five inches taller than Castiel, which intimidated him all the more.

He put the beer bottle on the counter and nervously shook Sam’s hand. Sam sat back down, eyeing the bottle and then looking at his brother.

At least you both like the same thing for breakfast.”

“I know you didn’t come here just to be an asshole to my friend, Sam. So, what’s up?”

“I told you, I just wanted to see you. Eileen…”

Dean chuckled, “Eileen. Of course. You couldn’t just think about maybe letting your brother know you aren’t dead. You need your wife to tell you.”

Castiel grabbed the beer bottle, “I’m going to go…in another room.”

Dean held up his hand, “Don’t, Cas. I made you breakfast.” He turned to the counter and grabbed a plate with a stack of pancakes on it. “They should still be warm.”

“You made pancakes?” Castiel was actually touched.

“Sure. I figured you might be hungry.” Dean looked at the beer, “I guess you were thirsty too.”

Castiel looked at the floor. " I just needed something to wash down…” he stopped himself, but Dean understood.

“Sit. Eat.” Dean playfully commanded.

Castiel took the plate from Dean and brought it and his beer to the table. He sat across from Sam without making eye contact and began eating with Sam watching him with every bite.

Sam turned to Dean, “How long have you had that limp?”

“I’m fine,” Dean rubbed the leg with the bullet hole that Sam couldn’t see, “Cas fixed me up.” Dean sighed, “So what’s really going on, Sammy? Ya miss me?”

Sam huffed, not thrilled to be doing this in front of a stranger. “There’s some legal stuff, Dean. I need you to sign some papers.”

Dean was genuinely confused, “What kind of legal stuff? What papers?”

“Mom and Dad,” was all Sam replied.

Dean shook his head, “No. We’re done with that stuff. Years ago.”

“Apparently not. I got a letter from the Secretary of State’s office about unclaimed money they discovered in mom’s name.”

Dean shook his head again. He was obviously getting agitated, “I don’t care, Sammy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Dean, more than anything, I don’t want to be sitting in your kitchen in the middle of nowhere talking about this. But you’re an heir too, so here we are.”

Dean scoffed, “An heir? Is that what I am, Sammy?”

“You know what I mean. Legally, I can’t touch the money unless you sign off on it.”

The pills were kicking in for Castiel, and he looked up and tilted his head at Sam, “So you came here to get him to sign away his rights to half the money?”

“Cas,” Dean raised his eyebrow.

“What?” Castiel smiled. "Dean, you’re entitled to that money as much as your brother is. Why should you give it away?”

“It doesn’t matter, Cas.”

Castiel chuckled as he looked at Sam, who was glaring at him. “It seems to matter to your brother.”

“Sam,” Sam replied through gritted teeth. “My name is Sam.”

“Well, Sam, I think you’re being shitty to your brother.”

Dean couldn’t suppress his chuckle, “Cas.”

Sam looked over at Dean, “Who the hell is he, Dean?”

“I’m his friend,” Castiel replied. “And Dean’s letting me crash here for a little while.” Castiel very purposely took a long sip off the beer bottle while staring at Sam.

Dean walked over and clapped Castiel on the back, “Okay, cowboy, maybe you should take that in another room while I talk to my brother, huh?”

When Castiel stood up, Dean leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Stoned you is pretty fucking awesome.”

Castiel shyly smiled at Dean as he took his plate and beer and left the room without another word.

Dean sat in his seat and looked over at his brother. “How much?”

“How much what?”

“Well, either how much money Mom and Dad left or how much you're willing to pay me to sign those papers.”

Sam looked surprised.

“Nothing comes for free, little brother.”

“A hundred thousand.”

“I’ll take it.”

“That’s how much the state found, Dean. A hundred thousand dollars.” He shook his head, “Where’d they get money like that? Christ, we bounced from shitty apartment to shitty apartment forever…”

Dean stayed silent as he thought about where the money could have come from.

“I guess it was in a bank account under Mom’s maiden name. Took them a while to track her down as a Winchester.” Sam noticed Dean mentally checking out.

“Dean? You okay?”

“There was a lot about Mom and Dad that we didn’t know, Sammy.”

Sam groaned, “Not this again. Dean, either you’ll sign the papers or you won’t. If I have to take fifty grand over a hundred, I’ll have to suck it up.” Sam leaned across the table, staring at his brother, “But do you really think you deserve any of that money? Really?”

Dean stared back at his brother, “I promise you, Sammy, I earned it more than you did.”

Sam rolled his eyes and stood up. “Eileen wants to meet for dinner. She said she misses you.”

“I’ve met her all of three times.”

“She has no family. And now that she’s pregnant, she’s going through all this emotional stuff about family, and she…”

Dean stood up as he interrupted, “Eileen’s pregnant?”

Sam nodded, “We aren’t really telling anyone yet, but yeah, we’re going to have a baby.”

“Sammy, that’s great. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” He pushed past Dean to leave, “There’s a restaurant just outside town, Bergoff’s. Eileen’s always wanted to go. Eight tonight?”

Dean followed Sam out of the kitchen, “Sure. Why not?” He looked over at Castiel, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating pancakes with his hands. Smiling at Castiel, he put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I’m bringing Cas.”

Both Castiel and Sam turned to look at Dean.

“You are?” Sam looked over at Castiel, who had already returned to happily eating his pancakes.

“I am.”

“Friend, huh?”

“If you want me at dinner and you want me to sign whatever the fuck it is you want me to sign, you’ll shut up and make a reservation for four.”

Sam nodded, “If you say so, Dean.” And then, without another word, Sam left.

Dean watched Sam pull away from the house. When he was truly off the property, he walked over to Castiel and sat next to him.

“You okay?” Castiel asked.

Dean sighed and nodded, “I guess. That was just…shitty.”

“I don’t think I like your brother, Dean.”

Dean chuckled, “Maybe you should hold off on taking another pill, Cas. Those make you a little chatty.”

“I feel terrific, Dean.” He held up a pancake, “And these are fantastic! You’re a really good cook!”

Shaking his head, Dean took the pancake out of Castiel’s hand and took a bite out of it. “Thanks, Cas.” He studied Castiel’s happy face, “And thanks for what you said in the kitchen.”

Castiel shrugged, “Your brother is kind of a dick, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean leaned back, resting his head on the couch, “But he’s not completely wrong. I don’t deserve any of that money. Not really.”

“Says who?” Castiel had put aside the plate and focused solely on the beer bottle.

“Cas, my relationship with my parents was complicated.” He reached over for the beer, and Castiel let him take it. After taking a huge gulp, he handed it back, “I shouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner with Sam and Eileen.” He looked at Castiel, “And I shouldn’t have told him I’d bring you.”

“Why did you?”

Dean shrugged, “Guess I didn’t want to be the only one without a date.”

Castiel looked away, hoping Dean didn’t see the blush that crossed his cheeks.

“You don’t have to go, Cas,” Dean closed his eyes.

“I don’t?” Castiel was surprised, “You’d let me stay here alone?”

“My brother is a bit much, Cas. And if you’re still popping those pills, we’re probably better off with you here than there.”

Castiel was hurt, “I won’t say anything, Dean. About…us…why I’m here.”

“No, Cas,” Dean chuckled, “That’s not what I meant. I meant if you’re sitting there with the loose lips at dinner, you might just tell him where to get off.”

Before Castiel could respond, Dean’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, read it, and returned it to his pocket.

Standing up, he took the beer bottle from Castiel and finished it. “I have to go.”

“A job?”

Dean nodded.

“Can I go with you?”

“Cas, that’s a terrible idea.”

“I was a lot of help last night…”

Dean nodded as he sat back down, “You sure were. My leg only feels kind of shitty thanks to you.”

“Should you be working? Hurt like that?”

“I’ve had worse, Cas. I’ll be limping for a few days, but it’s okay. I can still function.” Dean paused, “Thanks to you.”

He turned to look at Castiel, “You really did save my fucking life, didn’t you?”

“I guess.”

Dean reached out and grabbed Castiel’s forearm, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? That guy was going to shoot you in the face, Dean.”

“So, you shot him in the face. Nice aim, by the way. I just don’t get why you did it.”

“Do you think I wanted him to kill you, Dean?” Castiel looked at the empty beer bottle, disappointed.

“I think if I were dead, you’d leave and go back to your life. Hannah, the bar…” Dean trailed off.

Castiel thought about this and stood up, “I need a drink.” He walked into the kitchen, and Dean could hear him rifling through the cabinets.

“There’s a bottle of bourbon under the sink!” Dean called to him.

Castiel came back with the bottle and no glasses. He sat beside Dean, opened the bottle, and started drinking from it.

“Shit, Cas, slow down. We still have dinner tonight, and you’re already stoned.”

After a ridiculously long time sipping on the bottle, Castiel handed it to Dean. “I don’t want you to die, Dean.”

“That’s good to know, Cas.”

“But I don’t know what’s going on here either. I mean, you can keep me stoned and locked up, but what’s the point?”

“The point is that you’re here, Cas. With me. The point is that I’m not fucking alone."  He drank from the bottle, “I don’t wanna be alone, Cas. And you’re the only person I’ve ever met who I wanted to be with.”

“Because you’re in love with me?”

“Yeah, because I’m fucking in love with you, and I’m so fucking broken that my genius way of getting you to fall for me is apparently to kidnap you.”

Castiel moved over on the couch until he was sitting up against Dean, “For what it’s worth,” he put his head on Dean’s shoulder, “It might be working.”

“Sharing traumatic experiences with a touch of Stockholm Syndrome is no way to start a relationship, Cas.”

Castiel lifted his head, so he and Dean practically touched noses, “Says who?”

Dean wasn’t all that moved, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’m stoned, and I’m pissed, I’m scared, and I haven’t been laid in weeks if not months…yes, Dean, I’m serious.”

Dean put his hand on Castiel’s cheek and gently tilted his head before touching his lips with a soft, almost chaste kiss. When he broke the kiss, he looked directly into Castiel’s eyes. “Still serious?”

“Like a heart attack,” Castiel leaned over and kissed Dean more aggressively. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and pushed him onto his back. Dean put his arms around Castiel’s waist, pulling him tightly on top of him, and the two stayed that way, kissing and grinding into each other until Dean’s phone buzzed again.

“Fuck,” Dean cursed into Castiel’s mouth.

“The job?” Castiel asked, resting his head on Dean’s chest.

“Yeah. Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry. I gotta do this.”

Castiel sat up, and Dean followed suit: “I get it, Dean. Let’s go.”

Dean shook his head, “No. You’re staying here.” He quickly kissed his lips again. “Take a nap. Take a shower. Do whatever you need to get ready for tonight.”

Castiel nodded, “Okay, Dean. If you say so.”

Dean gently caressed Castiel’s cheek, “I know this isn’t real,” he whispered, “But I don’t fucking care.”

“Who’s to say what’s real, Dean?” Castiel knew he was stoned and wasn’t sure himself if his feelings were real. But there was no need to worry Dean about that.

“I won’t be gone long. Don’t burn the place down.”

Castiel watched Dean walk out of the house and surprised himself when he realized he was more compelled to take a shower than to try to escape.

Chapter Text

A shovel in one hand and his gun in the other, Dean led the man into the field. Like most of his victims, Dean didn’t have much difficulty getting him to accompany him; the gun was an excellent persuader. But to get him to walk from the car to the field, Dean had to bind his hands as he tried to fight him the moment they got out of the car.

The man, the CEO of the most prominent real estate firm in town, was a little younger than Dean and in as good shape, if not better, than Dean, which made Dean moderately concerned about keeping him under control. But once he cuffed him, the man seemed to calm down and accept his fate as they walked toward it.

Usually laser-focused, Dean’s mind kept drifting to his brother and Castiel. As they approached the cleared-out area, now nothing but dirt, where Dean intended to end the encounter, the man caught him off-guard. With his hands behind his back, he swung his leg around and kicked Dean in the face.

Already somewhat hobbled by the hole in his leg and his face now bleeding, Dean quickly hit the ground and watched as the man struggled to run from him. Slowly standing up, keeping the man in his sight, Dean raised his gun and squeezed off one perfect shot, hitting the man just under his right knee and sending him tumbling to the ground.

Dean looked around to make sure no one was around to hear the gunshot, knowing that there wouldn’t be. Knowing the man wasn’t going to run away too quickly, even if he could stand up, Dean slowly made his way over to him.

“Not the brightest move, Frank,” Dean was annoyed.

“Fuck you!” Frank yelled back, still on the ground.

Dean sighed as he approached and, grabbing his cuffed hands, pulled the man to his feet. “Did you really think that was gonna work?”

“Fuck you,” the man’s voice was quieter.

“Man, I’m at about eighty percent right now, and I’m in no mood to deal with your bullshit.” He tossed the shovel on the ground in front of the man. “I’m gonna uncuff you, and you’re gonna start digging. Got it?”

“I can’t dig! You shot me!”

“You’re gonna dig, or I’m gonna cave your fucking head in with that shovel.” Dean didn’t raise his voice as he removed the handcuffs and shoved them in his pocket. “Now fucking dig.”

Because of his injury and the fact that he kept looking back at Dean, who held the gun closely on him, Frank, the CEO, took longer than Dean had liked to dig an appropriate hole. But when he was finished, Dean was pleased with the result.

“Nice hole, Frank. You do this before?”

Staring at Dean’s gun, Frank stayed silent.

Dean waved the gun toward the hole, “Jump in.”

“What?” Frank seemed genuinely confused.

“Jump in the fucking hole, Frank. I don’t have all goddamn day.”

“I’m not…I’m not jumping in that hole.”

Exasperated, Dean sighed just before shooting Frank in his other leg. The force of the shot sent him spiraling into the hole.

“There was an easier way to do that, Frank,” Dean looked down at the man struggling to get up. The hole was too narrow, though, and he just flopped around on his back.

“What are you going to do?”

Dean chuckled, “I’m guessing exactly what you think I’m gonna do.” Dean put his gun away and picked up the shovel. “Christ, I’m gonna be here forever.”

Dean started digging and tossed dirt on top of Frank, who began choking and screaming.

“No! Fuck, no!”

Shaking his head, Dean continued to cover the man in dirt. “This would have gone faster if you hadn’t kicked me in the face, Frank.” Dean had put enough dirt into the hole that the only response he got from Frank was a muffled scream.

Hours later, when Dean finally got back to the farm, he was dirty and bloody and in a foul mood. Walking into the house and not immediately seeing Castiel didn’t help any and he dragged himself room to room calling out for him until he got to the room in the farthest part of the house: a sunroom with a couch facing a bay window overlooking the farm.

Castiel was lying on the couch, looking out the window. He was obviously stoned and completely naked.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean smiled as he approached the couch; his mood immediately improved upon seeing him.

Castiel slowly stood up. “Dean, you’re home!” His speech was sluggish and a little slurred.

“And you’re naked,” Dean sat next to him.

“I took a shower.”

“And a shit ton of pills?”

“I think I took the wrong ones.”  Castiel’s eyes widened as he realized the condition Dean was in. “Are you all right?”

Dean nodded, “Things didn’t go exactly smoothly.”

Castiel looked concerned, “That seems to be happening a lot lately.”

Dean was trying to ignore the fact that Castiel was naked, so he looked out the window. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here when I got back.”

“You had the car,” Castiel teased.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “I guess.”

Castiel nervously licked his lips, “Dean, I…” he trailed off and then started up again, “I didn’t want to leave.”

“Free drugs, right?” Dean was still looking out the window.

“Dean, I shot someone in the face last night. You almost got killed. I can’t believe you’re walking around if I’m being honest.”

“You fixed me up good.”

“You were lucky.”

Dean nodded.

“I realized this morning that I was terrified you were going to die last night.” Finally remembering his nakedness, Castiel grabbed a throw pillow and placed it between his legs.

“You would have been free of me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think I don’t want to be free of you, Dean.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Dean finally spoke.

“You know that’s fucked up, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Dean.”

There was more silence, and then it was Castiel’s turn.

“So, you killed someone else today.”

“Yup.”

“How’d you do it?”

“You don’t wanna know that Cas.”

Castiel considered this. “How do you come up with the ways you do it?”

Dean finally looked at Castiel, “Why are you asking me these questions? Why do you think you wanna know, Cas?”

“I don’t know, Dean. It’s just the person you are with me…most of the time…he’s not the same person…” Castiel motioned to the blood and dirt-covered Dean, “As this person. I guess I’m trying to figure out who you are.”

Dean stood up, obviously upset, “Well, cut that shit out, Cas.” He started to walk away, and his banged-up leg buckled under him. Before he could hit the floor, Castiel was up and caught him, propping him back up onto the couch.

Embarrassed, Dean scoffed, “Guess I overdid it today.”

Castiel picked a bottle off the floor and handed it to Dean.

Dean looked at it and shook his head, “So you’ve been popping pills and drinking whisky all day?”

Castiel shrugged and put the pillow back between his legs, “I did take a shower.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile as he took a swig of the alcohol, “Cas, what the fuck is happening?”

“How did you kill the guy today?”

“How do you know it was a guy?”

“Dean.”

Dean sighed, “I made him dig his own grave, and I shot him in the leg, knocking him into the hole. Then I buried him alive and stayed until I was sure he wasn’t gonna dig his way out.” He took a longer sip of the whisky, “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Castiel tried to hide his horror but failed. “Dean, that’s…”

“Brutal? Inhuman?”

“Terrifying,” Castiel whispered.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. After a few more moments of silence, Dean added, “I have a notebook.”

Castiel tilted his head, obviously not understanding what Dean was saying.

“I dream about ways to kill people. I’ve been doing it since I was young.” He chuckled, “Any time I thought of a creative way to kill someone and not get caught, I’d write it down. Even practiced on my parents.”

Castiel covered his mouth with his hand.

“You asked, Cas.”

Castiel nodded without saying anything.

“My parents sucked, Cas. Maybe it’s not a reason to try and kill them, but…fuck, they weren’t good people.”

“I’m sorry, Dean…”

“Don’t be fucking sorry, Cas,” Dean interrupted him. “I’m fucking fine.”

“Clearly.”

Even Dean had to chuckle. “Okay, I’m not fine. But I’m fucking here, and they aren’t. And I don’t need your pity. I don’t deserve your pity. I’m a fuck of a human being, Cas, and whatever happens to me, you should know that I absolutely deserve it.”

“So why drag me into it?”

Dean shook his head.

“Tell me. It’s the least you could do, Dean.”

“You’re pushy with a few pills and liquid courage, aren’t you?”

“You’re bringing me to a family dinner tonight. I think I’m allowed to be a little pushy.”

“Fuck, dinner… Christ, I almost forgot.”

“Don’t change the subject. Dean,” Castiel put his hand on Dean’s arm, “Tell me why I’m here. And don’t tell me you love me. I know that’s bullshit.”

“You think that’s bullshit?”

Castiel thought Dean almost looked hurt, “Isn’t it?”

Dean threw his hands up, “If that’s what you think.”

“Dean, I could have left today.”

“Stoned, drunk, and naked without a car or a phone? Where were you going?”

Castiel sat back on the couch, pouting.

“If I take you to this thing with Sam tonight, are you gonna be good?”

“If?”

“You’re a little unhinged, Cas. I’m not sure I can trust you around my brother.”

“Unhinged? How am I unhinged?”

“Well, for starters, you’re sitting here completely naked.”

Castiel knew Dean had him there.

“I got distracted.”

Dean leaned over and grabbed the back of Castiel’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair, “I can’t let you go, Cas. Leaving you alone today was a mistake. And I can’t have you fuck things up with my brother.”

Castiel stared into Dean’s eyes as Dean pulled his head so they were nose to nose. “If I don’t go to dinner, that means I stay here alone.”

Dean let go of Castiel and roughly pushed him away, “Fine. You’re coming to dinner. But I’m gonna fill you so full of pills you’ll practically be catatonic.”

Castiel shrugged, “It’s better than the alternative.”

Dean lent Castiel a pair of black dress pants and a blue button-down shirt for the night. Dean dressed similarly, only his shirt was green, and he added a black jacket over it. True to his word, he made sure Castiel was stoned enough to be happy and quiet, and the two of them drove to the restaurant in silence.

He had cleaned himself up, but his face was bruised and cut from where Frank had kicked him, and that, along with his limp, gave him an air of toughness when he walked into the swanky restaurant, and all eyes were on him as they walked to the table where Sam and Eileen were already seated.

“How is it that you look worse than when I saw you this morning, Dean?” Sam greeted his brother.

“Good to see you again, too, Sam.” Dean looked over at Eileen and smiled his most devastatingly charming smile, “Hi, Eileen.”

The charm worked, and Eileen’s smile spread across her face. “Hi, Dean,” she said and signed at the same time.

“You’re deaf?” Castiel barely knew where he was but recognized ASL. He sat next to Eileen, ignoring Sam. “You’re deaf?” He asked again. This time, signing as he said it.

Eileen nodded and responded by signing without speaking. She and Castiel conversed that way for a few minutes until Dean interrupted.

“As the only one at the table who doesn’t sign, I’m feeling a little paranoid.” He joked. “Are you two talking about me?” He sat next to Castiel.

Castiel continued to sign as he spoke, “She asked me if I was your boyfriend, and I told her she’d have to ask you.”

Eileen shrugged at Dean.

“We’re still working on that,” Dean responded, and Eileen nodded knowingly.

“I also said he had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen,” Eileen spoke without signing.

“I said the same thing,” Dean wasn’t joking.

Sam shook his head, “So this is a thing?” He pointed to Castiel.

“No, he is a friend. We gonna do this again, Sammy?”

Eileen slapped Sam’s thigh and glared at him.

“Be nice,” she pointed her finger at him.

The waiter came over, unprompted, with a bottle of wine, and Castiel’s eyes lit up.

Dean put his hand over the wine glass in front of Castiel, “Maybe you should…wait until we eat?”

Castiel winked at Dean and gently lifted his hand off the glass. Looking up at the waiter, he nodded to the glass, “I’m good.”

The waiter eyed Dean and warily poured Castiel’s wine. He put the bottle next to Sam when everyone's glasses were full and quickly walked away.

“Making a good impression as usual, huh, Dean?” Sam turned to Castiel. “So, Castiel, was it? What do you do?”

Castiel, already halfway through his glass of wine, didn’t understand, “Do?”

“For work. I assume you have a job?”

“Not anymore,” Castiel happily admitted, and Dean gently kicked him under the table. “I mean, I’m a bartender, but I took some time off to, uh…” he looked over at Dean, “Help Dean with the farm.”

“Help with the farm?” This intrigued Sam. “You’re working that farm?”

Dean shrugged, “I have animals. They need to be tended to.”

“And the alligator!” Castiel excitedly exclaimed, and Dean kicked him again.

“You have an alligator?”

“In this state?” Dean looked at Sam as if he were crazy. “Cas is a little…”

“Stoned?” Sam was annoyed. “Already drunk?”

“We had some fun today.”

“Obviously,” Sam looked like he was already done.

“Sam, you’re the one who invited me here. Are we gonna do this all night?”

Castiel reached over and took Dean’s untouched glass of wine, and Dean motioned to take it back and then decided against it and let Castiel take it.

“So, what about you, Dean? What are you doing that you can afford that place?”

“Clean living, Sammy. I’ve been blessed.”

Castiel laughed as he sipped the wine and spit some of it on the tablecloth in front of him.

Sheepishly looking around the table, Castiel apologized as he used his napkin to clean up the mess, “Sorry.”

“This was a terrible idea.” Sam looked at his wife and signed as he spoke, “I told you this was a terrible idea.”

Eileen turned from Sam and pushed her glass of wine in front of Castiel with a smile, “I’m not drinking.”

“That’s right,” Dean’s smile was genuine, “You’re pregnant, right?”

Eileen nodded happily.

“Congratulations! I’m happy for you.” He looked at Sam, “Both of you.”

Sam ignored his brother’s words, “Dean, are you going to sign the papers or not?”

Dean sighed, “Not.”

Eileen covered her mouth so her husband didn’t see her smirk.

“You’re going to make this difficult for me?” Sam was incredulous.

“Not on purpose, Sammy. But Cas is right. I deserve that money as much as you. I was their kid too.”

“Does Cas know the history, Dean? What you did?”

Eileen grabbed Sam’s arm to get his attention and signed and spoke, “This isn’t the time, Sam.”

“Sure it is,” Sam argued. “I want to know if Dean’s friend knows how many times he tried to kill our parents.” He looked at Dean, “It’s a fair question.”

“You’re a fucking dick,” Dean growled.

Castiel was just about finished with Dean’s glass of wine when Dean stood up.

“Dean, don’t leave,” Sam said.

Castiel looked up at Dean, “Are we leaving?”

“We’re leaving.”

Castiel sadly looked at Eileen, “It was nice meeting you.”

Eileen put her hand gently on Castiel’s cheek, “You too.”

Sam swallowed, “Please don’t leave,” he bitterly asked his brother.

Dean slowly sat back down, “You only want me to stay to sign your goddamn papers.”

“Don’t do it, Dean!” Castiel said a little too loudly and Dean patted his arm.

“Calm down there, Cas. I’m good.”

Castiel started in on Eileen’s glass of wine.

Sam nodded to Castiel and then looked at Dean, “That doesn’t concern you?”

“He’s had a bad day,” Dean explained.

Sam shook his head, “You’ll never change. Will you, Dean?”

“Sam, aside from my signature and half the money Mom and Dad left, what the fuck do you want from me?”

“Eileen wants a brother-in-law. She wants an uncle for our child, Dean.” He scoffed, “I have no idea why.”

“Because he’s your only brother!” Eilleen yelled. “Jesus, Sam.”

Castiel reached out and patted Eileen’s back and she smiled at him.

“I’m not exactly the uncle type, Eileen.”

Eileen shrugged, “Too bad. You’re stuck.”

Dean looked over at Castiel who looked like he was about to pass out. “I should probably get him back home.” He stood up again, “But I’ll think about it. The papers.”

Sam looked surprised, “You will? Really?”

“Really. I’m doing okay. Maybe I don’t really need that money.” He gently grabbed Castiel by the elbow and helped him stand up. “Let’s get going, Cas. I’ll get you a burger or something on the way home. Sammy, give me a couple of days and I’ll let you know, okay?”

Sam nodded, “Okay, Dean. Thanks.”

Dean winked at Eileen, “Take care of that little Winchester.”

“Campbell,” Sam corrected, reminding Dean that he used his mother’s maiden name, and Dean rolled his eyes and then led the confused Castiel away from the table.

Dean walked into his bedroom to see Castiel sitting on the edge of his bed, struggling to get undressed.

The ride home seemed to increase Castiel’s inebriation, and Castiel being half-asleep the entire time gave Dean an opportunity to resume fuming about his brother. So, by the time they got back to the farm, Dean was pissed and Castiel was still blissfully ignorant.

“What are you doing?” He asked Castiel.

“Getting changed,” Castiel struggled to get Dean’s boots off his feet.

“Christ, you’re a mess,” Dean grumbled as he knelt down and pulled the boots off Castiel.

Once his feet were free, Castiel fell back on the bed, smiling. “What’d you give me tonight, Dean?”

“I don’t think it matters, Cas. I’m pretty sure all the bourbon and wine is what has you fucked up tonight.”

“Feels good,” Castiel said. “Really good.” He started unbuttoning his pants, but his fingers couldn’t find the button or zipper on them, so Dean pushed his hands away and did it himself. He pulled down Castiel’s pants and pulled them off him. He was only slightly surprised to discover Castiel wasn’t wearing underwear.

Even lying down, Castiel somehow got his shirt off, and as he tossed it to the floor, Dean observed him in all his nakedness spread across his bed. The anger Dean had suppressed for the most part all night came bubbling up inside him.

“So, you’re just gonna go around naked in front of me now, huh?”

Castiel smiled, “Why not?”

Dean couldn’t help noticing Castiel’s cock was completely erect. He grabbed the edge of the comforter and covered Castiel. “You should get some sleep.”

“You should too.”

“Cas, go to fucking sleep. I’m not in the mood.”

It was a struggle, but Castiel sat up and grabbed at Dean, gripping his hips and pulling Dean against him so Castiel’s face was buried in Dean’s chest.

“What the fuck are you doing, Cas?” Dean angrily pushed him away, and Castiel ended up on his back again.

Castiel looked up at Dean, “You’re not such a bad guy.” He chuckled, and Dean snapped.

“I’m fucking not? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” As he ranted to Castiel, Dean was undressing himself. “What, you think this is some kind of fucking vacation, Cas? Like we’re in a movie? You saw what I did. Fuck, you fucking killed someone, Cas. YOU fucking killed someone! I still have fucking dirt under my nails from when I buried a fucking guy alive TODAY Cas. I have a fucking bullet hole in my goddamn leg.”

Dean was standing next to the bed completely naked, “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” he repeated.

Even in his current state, Castiel was shocked and confused by Dean’s outburst.

“Dean…”

“No. Shut the fuck up, Cas. You want me to be a bad guy? Fine. I’m gonna do what I wanted to do the first night we met when we were at the motel and didn’t. What I wanted to do from the night I brought you here but didn’t.”

“Dean…” Castiel started to sit up, and Dean grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his stomach.

“Don’t fucking Dean me!” he hissed into Castiel’s ear. “You want a bad guy…you’re gonna fucking get a bad guy.”

Castiel was in no condition to struggle, but he tried, and Dean ignored him. He got between Castiel’s legs and pushed them as far apart as he could without pushing Castiel flat on the bed. Castiel tried to pull away, but Dean grabbed him, roughly pulling apart his ass cheeks and, without warning, pressing his tongue against his tight hole. As he lapped at Castiel’s hole, the besotted man moaned loudly.

“Dean, no…” Castiel weakly protested.

Ignoring his protests, Dean continued laving Castiel’s ass with his tongue and eventually forcing his tongue inside Castiel, causing the man to moan even louder. Dean persisted in using his tongue and spit to prepare Castiel’s ass for what he had been dreaming of ever since he met him. When he was satisfied with his work, he sat up, his face shining with saliva, and holding Castiel’s waist with one hand, he grabbed his erection with his other hand and, without any warning, forced his cock into Castiel’s ass.

Castiel cried out in pain, and as Dean continued to forcibly guide his cock inside him, he clamped his hand over Castiel’s mouth, muffling his cries.

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean grunted as he bottomed out in Castiel’s ass. “Gonna fuck you good,” he moaned into Castiel’s ear. He smiled as he felt Castiel struggling under him and then chuckled when he realized what he felt wasn’t struggling.

He took his hand off Castiel’s mouth and, with both hands, grasped his waist and began fucking Castiel in earnest, pulling his cock almost completely out of him before thrusting it all the way back in.

“Fuck!” Castiel groaned as Dean continued fucking him. Sweat began beading on Castiel’s face, and he couldn’t catch his breath; he was panting like a dog as Dean fucked him into the mattress.

“So fucking tight,” Dean muttered through the pain. Because even with his prep, Castiel wasn’t well lubed, and the fucking was painful for both of them, although Dean rightly assumed Castiel was in a bit more pain than he was.

“Dean, no,” Castiel murmured into a pillow.

“Want me to stop?” Dean grunted.

Castiel nodded ‘yes’ into the bed, but when he opened his mouth, he moaned, “God, no!”

From that point on, Dean almost forgot that Castiel was even there. He fucked him wildly as if he hadn’t fucked anyone in forever while Castiel gripped the blankets beneath him. Tears flowed from his eyes, but he kept whispering, “Don’t stop.”

Every time Castiel spoke, Dean fucked him harder, ignoring the growing pain in his leg. The nerve of him enjoying what was happening. Part of him wondered why he was taking his anger out on Castiel, but another part of him knew the reason: Castiel had shown him concern, kindness, and maybe even love, and Dean didn’t want it. Dean didn’t deserve it. Castiel had no right not to be afraid of him, no right to care about him even a little bit. And he’d show him. Show him how wrong he was, how stupid he was to have saved Dean.

Blind with rage and self-hatred, Dean pressed Castiel’s head down, forcing his face against the mattress and pulling his hair while he continued fucking him like an animal.

He’d show him. When he was done with him, Castiel was going to regret saving his life. Dean would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Still dazed from the night before, Castiel lumbered into the small room he previously didn’t know existed. When he woke up alone, he threw on a pair of Dean’s pajama bottoms and wandered the house. Hearing what sounded like a television, Castiel followed the sounds to this windowless room hidden at the back of the house. The room was sparsely furnished, just a beat-up couch with a glass coffee table in front of it and a big-screen television on the wall.

Dean was sitting on the couch, staring intently at the TV, his hurt leg resting on the table. He was also only wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, and he was drinking directly out of a bottle of whisky.

Castiel silently sat on the couch, as far away from Dean as possible, and looked up at the television.

“Wings of Desire?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Dean responded without taking his eyes off the TV.

Castiel looked around the room, “This house has a lot of rooms. I didn’t even know this was here.”

“I come here to be alone,” Dean stonily replied.

Castiel was hungover, not stoned, so he didn’t have as much courage as before, but he persisted in getting Dean to respond to him. “So, we aren’t going to talk about last night?”

Dean’s response was to turn the volume up on the television.

“Why don’t you just kill me, Dean?”

Dean turned toward him, “Maybe I should.” He stared coldly at Castiel, who held his gaze.

“Then fucking do it.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Me?” Castiel chuckled, “How is this my fault? You’re the one who brought me here. You’re the one who’s keeping me here. You’re the one who fucking…” Castiel trailed off.

Dean shoved his hand in his pajama pants pocket and pulled out a prescription bottle. He tossed it to Castiel, who let it fall on his lap.

“I don’t want that. I feel shitty enough.”

“Take them. Without them, you aren’t gonna feel any better.”

“What do you want from me, Dean?”

Dean chuckled bitterly, “I got what I wanted from you last night.”

“Bullshit.”

Dean angrily shut the TV off and threw the remote on the table. “Bullshit? Cas, you were my little bitch last night. That’s all I ever wanted. So, thanks for that.”

Castiel took the bottle off his lap, opened it, and popped three into his mouth. He reached over, pulled the bottle out of Dean’s hand, and washed them with the whisky. He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes.

“What makes you think I didn’t get what I wanted last night?” He asked.

Dean grabbed the bottle of whisky away from Castiel and took a sip before speaking, “Cas, I think you might be more fucked up than I am.”

“Maybe,” Castiel admitted.

“God, you piss me off.”

Castiel chuckled, “I tend to do that to people.”

“Why?”

“Why do I piss people off? Probably because no one gets me, Dean.”

“No. Why did you want that last night? I was trying to hurt you. I did hurt you.”

Castiel’s hand went instinctively to his neck, where the marks from Dean choking him while they fucked were still visible and sore. It had been a long night.

“Does it matter?”

“Kind of, yeah. I’d like to know what I got myself into.”

Castiel scoffed, “What you got yourself into? Dean, you kidnapped me!”

“And you could have left weeks ago.”

Castiel reached out for the whisky, and Dean handed it to him.

“So why didn’t you?”

Castiel took a ridiculously long sip off the bottle before responding, “Because my choices were going back to a life where no one even cared that I went missing or staying with a psycho who said he loves me.”

Castiel drank a little more, “How’s that for a reason?”

Dean laughed, “That’s fucked up.”

“Glad you think it’s funny.”

Dean shrugged, “I mean, you just basically gave me permission to do whatever the fuck I want to you, Cas.”

Castiel looked over at Dean, “I know.”

Two cell phones were lying on the table, and one of them started to buzz.

“Work?” Castiel asked, and Dean nodded.

“Wanna come with?”

“You want me to go with you while you kill someone for sport?”

“Not for sport, Cas, for profit. And yeah. You have my head so fucked up that I’ve been making stupid mistakes lately. I might need the backup.”

“So, you want me to kill with you?” the pills were starting to kick in, and Castiel’s voice sounded sleepy.

Dean brought his leg off the table and onto the floor and slid across the couch so he was pressed up against Castiel. “I want you to be right next to me when I do it,” he hissed into Castiel’s ear. “I want you covered in blood. I want you to see it up close, Cas.”

“I shot someone in the face for you,” Castiel whispered—his heart was racing.

Dean pressed his body tighter against Castiel and forced a kiss on him. Castiel struggled momentarily and then gave in, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck as they kissed.

“I’m gonna fuck you again, Cas. And then you’re gonna see for real what it’s like to be me.”

Castiel stayed silent as Dean grabbed his waist and roughly pulled off his pajama bottoms.

They were in the basement of Dean’s latest victim. Were he in a better headspace, Castiel would have questioned the intelligence of killing someone in their own home, but he was messed up just enough to follow Dean without much questioning.

The entire basement was set up, in Dean’s words, as a ‘sex dungeon,’ and Dean had the man strapped to a sturdy wooden table with solid leather straps installed on it. The man lay straight on his back, his arms tightly to his sides and his legs closed, with straps over each leg and arm individually and across his chest, waist, and forehead.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

“This one’s personal,” Dean had explained to Castiel on the way to the man’s house. “Fucking freak was dating Big Daddy Shanahan’s daughter and fucked her up good. This isn’t a case where I can choose if he lives or dies. I have very specific orders.”

Castiel hadn’t known what to expect, but this wasn’t it.

“You gonna fuck me, fag?” the man spat at Dean.

“I wouldn’t fuck you with someone else’s cock,” Dean retorted as he paced alongside the table.

“I have money,” the man said as he started to panic.

“Money? Dude, you live in a shithole on the edge of town. Christ, not even a fucking cheap ass security camera outside.” Dean shook his head mockingly, “You made this too easy.”

“I can get money!”

“Selling those videos of Shanahan’s kid sucking cock? Sorry, man. Those are gone. You got nothing.”

Castiel was confused, “Videos?

“Yep. Asshole here arranged some fucked up gang bangs with the kid. Twenty-years-old. Imagine? Christ, man, you picked the wrong family to fuck with.”

“I didn’t know!”

Dean shook his head again, “You think anyone gives a shit about that?”

“What are you going to do to me?”

Castiel spotted a folding chair and sat in it; his eyes never left Dean.

“Eventually, I’m gonna kill you,” Dean stated flatly. “But I have my orders, man. Can’t do it too quickly. Boss wants proof too, so…” Dean pointed to the camera placed on a tripod at the end of the table. “Smile, man. You’re on Candid Camera.”

“So are you, asshole!” the man found an ounce of courage.

Castiel got up and looked through the viewfinder. “Actually, he’s not.”

Dean had stayed just far enough away from the table that he wasn’t in view.

“Besides, it isn’t recording yet,” Castiel added.

Dean walked over to the workbench sitting in the corner of the room. There was a board hanging on the wall behind it with all kinds of implements of pain hanging from it.

“Where should we start?”

“Please,” the man was shaking. “I’ll leave town. I won’t bother her anymore.”

“Oh, you can’t bother her. She’s in a fucking loony bin thanks to you,” Dean grabbed an awl off the board. “What do you do with this?”

“That’s an awl,” Castiel offered. “You use it to sew through heavy material like leather.”

Dean smiled, “My boy’s smart, isn’t he?”

The man didn’t respond. He lay there shaking, looking terrified.

“I wonder what YOU use it for, though,” Dean continued. “Do you fuck people with this?”

“No!” the man protested.

Dean looked down at the man’s naked body. “So, what then?” He placed the tip of the awl at the man’s navel. “Hmm…it kind of fits here.” He pressed down lightly, just hard enough to make the man scream and to draw blood. Looking over at Castiel, still behind the camera, he frowned, “We’re still not recording, are we?”

“You shouldn’t be on film, D…” Castiel stopped himself before he said Dean’s name.

“Yeah, I guess if we’re gonna do this right, I’ll have to just give Shanahan the after shots.”

“Please,” the man begged again. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll disappear. You can tell them you did it.”

“You don’t get it,” Dean smiled sincerely, “I want to do this.” He looked over at Castiel, “Don’t I?”

Castiel nodded slowly, “He really does.”

“And fuck do you make it easy, man. There’s nothing ambiguous here. You suck as a human. I’m gonna sleep great tonight knowing one less piece of shit is on this planet, thanks to me. Not all my jobs go that way.”

Realizing he couldn’t talk Dean out of it, the man was defeated, “Then shut the fuck up and do it.”

Castiel had wandered over to the workbench and picked up a bone saw, “I thought there would be more sex toys, not tools.”

“Plenty of sex toys if you look,” Dean responded. “But the tools make for more pain.”

Castiel’s cock began to harden, and he wondered when pain became something that turned him on.

He walked over to Dean with the saw, “Then maybe you should use this?” Castiel’s hand shook as Dean took the saw.

Dean studied the saw and then handed it back to Castiel, “You mean you should.”

“Dean,” Castiel forgot not to use his name, “I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice, Cas. You wanted this.”

“You wanted this.”

“Fine. I want this, and you don’t have a fucking choice. Happy?”

“I’m not doing it.”

Dean took the awl and jammed it into the man’s neck, causing blood to spurt out and cover all three of them immediately.

The man screamed unintelligibly while Castiel stared in horror.

“You had no problem shooting that guy in the face,” Dean ignored the cries of the man.

“He was going to kill you.”

Dean got right in Castiel’s face, “And you should have fucking let him.” He stepped away, “Use the fucking saw.”

“No.”

“Use the fucking saw, or when we get back, I’ll lock you in the fucking cellar and leave you there.”

Castiel could tell by the look on Dean’s face he wasn’t lying.

“Cut his fucking hand off, Cas.”

“No!” the man screamed as Castiel approached him.

Dean watched as Castiel put the blade to the man’s wrist, just under the strap holding him down, and began sawing.

As the man’s inhuman screams permeated the room, Castiel winced at the sound of the blade going through bone. Halfway through, he stopped and looked up at Dean with tears in his eyes.

“Don’t make me do this.”

Dean glared back at him and didn’t say a word, so Castiel continued.

An hour later and Dean had forced Castiel to saw off both the man’s hands. Had they left him at that, he would have bled to death easily. But Dean wanted to punish them both. He pulled a blade out of his jacket, a blade he used many times before, and handed it to a blood and tears-covered Castiel.

“Finish him.” Dean made a slicing motion with his hand across his own neck.

“Dean, no. He’s going to die.”

“Fucking finish him, Cas. Get right up in his face and look him in the eye when you slice his throat. And go deep. Or I’ll use that thing on you.”

The blade felt heavy in Castiel’s hand, and for a moment, he considered using it on Dean. That was one way to escape the situation he let himself be put in. Sensing Castiel’s trepidation, Dean smiled.

“Do it,” he tilted his chin to give Castiel better access to his throat. “Cut my throat instead.”

From the table, they both heard the man groaning in pain.

Castiel looked at the suffering man and then back at Dean. He lifted the blade and put it to his own throat.

“There’s another option, Dean,” Castiel brought the blade across his throat, leaving a trail of blood behind. He grimaced from the pain, but he hadn’t gone deep enough to do much damage.

It didn’t matter, though. Dean rushed over and knocked the blade out of Castiel’s hand, sending it clattering to the floor.

“Are you fucking insane?” Dean screamed.

Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle. “I must be, right?”

Dean picked up the blade with one hand and, with the other, grabbed the back of Castiel’s head. He forced Castiel down so he was face to face with the man, and he dragged the blade across the man’s throat so deeply that Castiel thought he was going to decapitate him. The only sounds the man made as his blood splattered Castiel’s already blood-stained face were gurgles just before he stopped breathing entirely.

Dean held Castiel down so he could watch the life leave the man close up. Castiel tried to stand upright, but Dean wasn’t having it.

“That’s what it looks like when someone dies, Cas." He pushed Castiel so hard that his face smashed against the dean man's. "That’s what it looks like every day for me.”

Castiel went limp, and Dean let him fall, unconscious, to the floor.

When Castiel woke up, he had no idea where he was. His head ached, and his entire body was sore. As he sat up and looked around, he realized he was in a dumpster, wearing the same bloody clothes he wore when he was with Dean. Pulling himself up, he immediately recognized the alley behind Shanahan’s bar.

Dean had brought him home.

Chapter Text

Castiel sat in the corner of Mike’s office, nursing a glass of whisky while Mike ranted at him.

“You have no fucking idea where you were?” Mike was incredulous. “Gone for two months and NOTHING?”

Castiel hadn’t cleaned up, so he sat there covered in blood and dirt, trying not to make eye contact with his boss.

“One minute, I was driving, and the next, I woke up in the dumpster,” he lied.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Mike lied back to him.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I…”

“Your apartment’s gone, you know.” Mike interrupted. “Hannah cleaned it out. Your landlord was gonna throw all your shit away.”

Castiel continued drinking.

“Hannah. She’s gonna lose her shit!” Mike looked at Castiel closely, “Whose blood is that?”

Castiel shrugged, “Not mine.”

Mike shook his head, “Christ, Castiel. What the fuck did you get involved in?”

“I don’t know, Mike. I just want to take a shower and go to bed.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to do it at Hannah’s,” Mike bit his lip. “Let me call her first.”

Mike walked out of the office as he took out his cell phone. Castiel strained to hear him outside the office door but gave up when he couldn’t hear a thing. He sat alone, sore, tired, and oddly crushed that Dean had abandoned him.

Mike walked back into the room before he had too much time to meditate on his feelings about Dean. “Hannah’s not home.” He nodded to a different door in his office, “Use my bathroom. I’ll scrounge up some clean clothes for you. Leave those for me so I can get rid of them.”

Castiel touched the t-shirt caked with blood. He didn’t want to give up Dean’s clothes, but he didn’t say so. “Okay, Mike. Thanks.”

He stood up and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

“Everything is in there. Towels, shampoo…the whole thing. I’ll leave clothes on the toilet seat for you.”

Castiel nodded and thanked Mike again.

“Christ, Castiel. What the fuck happened?” Mike asked again as Castiel closed the bathroom door behind him.

Mike waited in the bar while Castiel cleaned up, sitting at a table in the corner, whispering on his cell phone. He was so caught up in that he didn’t notice Dean sitting at another table across the bar, watching his every move.

When Castiel walked into the bar from the back room, freshly showered and wearing a button-down blue shirt and jeans, both too large for him, Mike immediately put down his phone and called to him.

Castiel sat across from Mike, who pushed another glass of whisky across the table to him. “You look like you could use this.”

Castiel didn’t argue.

“Castiel, this is awkward. We thought you were gone. Gone, gone, you know?”

Castiel nodded as he numbly sipped his drink.

“And we figured you were one of two places. Either someone snatched you to get back at the family.” Mike chuckled, “But we knew that probably wasn’t it. You aren’t exactly a family member, you know? We weren’t gonna…” Mike stopped himself.

“You weren’t going to go out of your way for me, and everyone knows that,” Castiel quietly responded.

“Yeah, well, Hannah missed you anyway.” Mike chuckled again.

“I bet,” Castiel whispered.

“So, our other theory was you went to the cops. There’s a lot of shit, you know, and, well…you ain’t family, Castiel. We didn’t know what you might have said to anyone.”

“You thought I ratted out the family?”

“What would you have thought? Dean was coming in every night to see you. I figured if Dean Winchester didn’t know where you were, you were in the wind, and the most logical explanation would be that the cops put you there.”

“So, what are you telling me, Mike?” Castiel’s head was throbbing, and it was getting difficult for him to concentrate. He gulped down the rest of the alcohol, and Mike motioned for Craig to bring another drink.

“I’m telling you there’s a hit out on you, Castiel. The family wants you dead. I’ve been trying to talk to my uncle, but…” Mike shook his head, “His thinking is better safe than sorry.”

Castiel looked around the bar and realized it was empty except for the two of them and Craig. Like Mike and Craig, he hadn’t noticed Dean skulking in the corner.

“You have me clean up just so you could kill me, Mike?” Castiel hoped Mike couldn’t see him shaking.

“I’m sorry, Castiel. If I could change things, I would. You know how the family works. How my uncle is.”

Craig approached the table and shook his head sadly as he placed the glass in front of Castiel, “Sucks, man.”

Castiel grabbed the glass, “So how are you going to do it?”

“Honestly, kid, I hadn’t thought that far in advance. I just know me and Craig can’t let you leave here.”

“Not on two legs anyway,” Craig added. Castiel noted he didn’t seem too broken up over it.

“I don’t know where I was,” Castiel lied again. “But I know I wasn’t with the cops.”

“We can’t take that risk, Castiel. You know that.”

Castiel slowly nodded as he took another sip.

“If It was up to me…” Mike’s words were interrupted by a deafening bang and Craig slumping over onto the table with blood pouring out of the smoking hole in the back of his head.

Both Mike and Castiel jumped up and were stunned to see Dean standing in front of them, holding the gun, his hand as steady as ever.

“Dean!” Castiel couldn’t contain his surprise and pleasure.

Dean nodded to Castiel, “Take a seat, Cas.”

Castiel immediately sat back down while trying to avoid the corpse of his former coworker.

“Dean,” Mike was confused, “What are you doing?”

“Step away from the table, Mike. And don’t do anything fucking funny, or you’ll get a hole matching Craig’s right in your fucking face.”

Mike raised both his hands in front of him as he backed away. “I’m not gonna do anything, Dean.”

“Cas, pat him down.”

Castiel wasted no time getting up and going over to Mike. While patting him down, he took a gun out of his waistband and tossed it on the table next to Craig’s body.

“Keep going. He used to have an ankle holster.”

Castiel moved his way down Mike’s body and found the other gun, throwing it next to the first.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Mike asked again.

“You were gonna kill him, right?” Dean nodded to Castiel.

“I have to!” Mike explained, “If I don’t kill him, my uncle will kill him.”

“Well, I’m gonna save him the trouble.”

Before Mike could protest, Dean raised the gun to his face and, as he promised, gave him a matching hole to Craig’s. Once again, Castiel was splattered with blood as Mike hit the floor.

“Fuck!” Dean exclaimed. He looked over at Castiel, who looked almost catatonic as he stared at Mike’s body.

“Cas, we have to get the fuck out of here.

Castiel, with fresh blood dripping down his face, didn’t move.

“Castiel!” Dean yelled. “We need to go!” he grabbed Castiel by the elbow and led him to the back room. As he was about to push him out the back door, Castiel turned around.

“Your clothes,” he whispered.

“What?”

Castiel pointed to Mike’s desk, where the clothes he had shown up in were in a pile. “Your clothes. We should take them.”

Dean shook his head as he grabbed the clothes, “We’re running for our fucking lives, and you don’t wanna forget the fucking laundry. Christ, Cas.”

Castiel had no idea where they were; he just knew they had been driving for hours. Once they got into the Impala at the bar, Dean hit the gas and kept going. Still stunned by all that had transpired, Castiel couldn’t remember if Dean had even said anything since they got in the car.

“Where are we going?” Castiel finally got the courage to ask.

“I don’t know. But we can’t go back to the farm. I don’t trust it.” He shook his head, “I don’t fucking trust anything.”

“Why did you come back?” Now that they were talking, Castiel started shaking, “Why did you bring me back? Why did you leave me?”

“Not now, Cas,” Dean dismissed him.

Tears sprung to Castiel’s eyes, “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Dean leaned over and opened the glove compartment. He grabbed a prescription bottle and dropped it on Castiel’s lap without saying anything.

Castiel wiped his eyes as he picked up the bottle. “What’s this one? Make me happy? Put me to sleep? How many different ways do you want me fucked up, Dean?” He threw the bottle at Dean, hitting him in the head with it.

“Hey!” Dean yelled. “Fucking fine!” Dean pulled the car over to the side of the darkened road, shut off the ignition, and turned to face Castiel. “You want to know why I brought you back? To get you the fuck away from me, Cas. Get it? I’m fucked up, Cas, and I’m fine with that. But ever since you’ve been with me, you’re fucked up too. And us together…Cas, I switch between wanting to fuck you and wanting to kill you every time I look at you.”

Castiel grabbed the bottle off the seat between them, opened it, and put it to his lips as if it were a glass, swallowing a good four or five pills. Dean grabbed it away from him.

“What the fuck, Cas?”

“What’s going to happen, Dean?” Castiel asked after he had swallowed all the pills in his mouth.

“Why are you still fucking here?” Dean asked.

“You fucking brought me here!”

“Mike was gonna kill you. The Shanahans are gonna kill you, Cas.”

“Well now that they probably think I killed Mike, yeah, no kidding, Dean.”

Dean was shaking, “I fucking hate this.”

Castiel didn’t understand, “What?”

“I have no fucking idea what to do, Cas! I have no fucking plan. I always have a fucking plan.” He slammed both his hands against the steering wheel, “You have me all fucked up!”

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh, “I have you fucked up? I didn’t do anything, Dean! This is all on you!”

“You followed me that day. You fucking followed me, and you saw what I did; you saw who I was…” he hit the steering wheel again, “Fuck, Cas! You fucked everything up!”

Castiel sat back on the seat, letting the pills take effect, “I have nowhere to go, Dean,” he said almost dreamily, “You made sure of that.”

Dean started the car, “We should find a place to crash for a few hours. A place with a fucking bed and maybe a goddamn bar.”

“With what?” Castiel mumbled, “We have no money.”

“That’s what you think,” Dean scoffed. “I told you I usually have a plan. Well, I didn’t plan for this, but I always make sure I have access to my money.” He pulled back onto the road, “It ain’t gonna be the Four Seasons, but at least we’ll have a fucking bed.”

The motel didn’t have a bar, but it was next to a liquor store, so Dean made a pit stop before they went to their room. He was sitting on the bed drinking straight from a bottle while Castiel lay beside him.

“Want some?” He offered the bottle to Castiel, who lazily waved him off.

“Nuh-uh,” he responded. “Feel too dreamy to drink,” Castiel chuckled.

“Cas, I’ve been thinking…what about your family?”

“What about my family?”

“Can’t you go stay with your brother or something? Would they find you with him?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t go there. My brother and I don’t really get along.”

“Cas, you have a hit out on you. I think that trumps some family squabble.”

“Are you going to stay with Sam? No one knows about him, right?”

Dean pouted, knowing Castiel had him.

“If you don’t want me to stay, I’ll just go.” Castiel giggled, “I’ll just wander the Earth like Cain.”

Dean looked over at Castiel. He was on top of the covers, fully dressed, and stoned out of his mind. Dean shook his head, “You used to be such a nice guy.”

Castiel laughed again, “Until you corrupted me!” Castiel rolled onto his side and brought his hand between Dean’s legs, rubbing him over his jeans. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“What about Hannah?” Dean pushed Castiel’s hand away. “I mean, I even fucked that up for you.”

Smiling, Castiel put his hand back on Dean’s cock. “No, you didn’t. I fucked that up. She never loved me. I was a toy for her to play with while she was bored.”

“So, one bad relationship and suddenly you go from eating pussy to sucking dick?”

“It’s a very nice dick,” Castiel rolled completely over so he was between Dean’s legs.

“You’re fucked up.”

“No shit,” Castiel licked Dean’s zipper.

“No, I mean you’re fucked up. All those fucking pills. They probably just make you horny.”

Castiel used his teeth to unzip Dean’s pants. “Mmhmm,” he mumbled.

Dean closed his eyes and drank from the bottle, “If anyone followed us, we could be dead by morning.”

Castiel released Dean’s cock from its denim prison and was sucking on the tip, “Mmhmm,” he moaned around Dean’s cock.

Dean felt that familiar anger building up in him again. He didn’t want to be angry at Castiel, but he was. His life was in shreds because of Castiel, and here Castiel was acting like everything was fine. Who did he think he was?

“Christ, Cas! I’m serious.”

Castiel took more of Dean’s cock in his mouth, and a moan escaped Dean.

“Fuck, Cas!”

Castiel let Dean’s cock lazily slip out of his mouth, and he looked up at Dean wide-eyed, “Do you want me to stop?”

Fuck it, Dean thought. If he wants me to use him, I fucking will.

Dean flipped them both over and, without any finesse, forced his cock as deeply into Castiel’s mouth as he could. He pulled out so Castiel’s lips were wrapped around just the tip of his cock and then thrust deeply back into Castiel’s mouth, fucking his throat violently.

Not expecting Dean to react that way, Castiel tried to fight him off, and Dean held both his wrists down on the bed as he continued forcing himself into Castiel’s mouth. Eventually, Castiel gave up the struggle and relented, letting Dean use him as nothing more than a living fleshlight.

When his cock finally exploded in Castiel’s mouth, the offering was too much for him to handle, and Castiel began choking on it, spitting some of it out. But Dean ignored his struggle and kept pounding at his throat until he was spent, only rolling off him when he was done and leaving a trail of cum on his lips and chin.

Castiel whimpered as Dean pulled out of his mouth and mindlessly shoved his hand in his jeans.

“Dean,” he moaned as he began jerking himself off.

Dean watched as Castiel struggled to masturbate himself under his jeans and decided to help him out. Buttoning himself up, he got off the bed and roughly pulled Castiel’s jeans off him. He stood over him, watching him jerk off, and decided to take off his pants as well. He stood over Castiel, jerking his own cock while Castiel continued abusing himself. Castiel’s eyes were closed as he continued moaning Dean’s name.

“Open your fucking eyes,” Dean demanded, and Castiel obeyed. They stared into each other’s eyes as they jerked off, and Castiel looked at Dean pleadingly.

“Please, Dean,” he begged.

“Please, what?” Dean whispered.

Castiel looked lost, and he swallowed hard before responding, “I don’t know.”

Still holding his cock, Dean climbed on the bed and straddled Castiel at his waist, “You’re mine, Cas. From now on. Forfuckingever. You’re mine. Tell me your mine, or I’m gonna fucking leave you here by yourself.”

Castiel didn’t hesitate, “I’m yours, Dean.”

“Not just when you’re fucked up,” Dean grunted, “And not just when you think I’m being nice.” Dean slapped Castiel hard across the face, and Castiel moaned, “Always. You’re mine always, Cas. ‘Cause without me, you’re fucking dead!” Dean was still jerking himself off, and he moved so his cock was closer to Castiel’s face. “Fucking always, Cas.”

Dean came again, this time letting his cock paint Castiel’s face. Castiel never stopped looking at Dean as he covered him in cum, and he opened his mouth to catch as much of it as he could.

“Always, Dean,” he gasped.

Dean knew it wasn’t real, but for a moment, for the first time in maybe his entire life, he didn’t feel alone.

Chapter Text

Castiel’s head was resting on Dean’s chest, his arm draped across Dean’s body while Dean ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair. They had worn each other out and were both quietly pondering how they had ended up here.

Gently tracing his finger down Dean’s chest, Castiel broke the silence, “Did you kill your parents, Dean?”

It amused Dean that the question didn’t surprise him. He kissed the top of Castiel’s head before responding, “You have a weird way of making pillow talk, Cas.”

Castiel chuckled, “I guess. But still…did you?”

“Do you think I did?”

Without pause, Castiel responded, “Yes.”

This didn’t surprise Dean either.

“Well, I didn’t. I should have. I wanted to. They fucking deserved it. But I didn’t. Someone beat me to it.”

“But your brother thinks you did, doesn’t he?”

“Cas, you’re a lot more on the ball than I give you credit for. Yeah, he does. My parents weren’t good people, Cas. They treated me and Sammy like shit. Me more than Sammy…I made sure of that. But they sucked all around. And were into all kinds of shit. After my dad shot me…”

Castiel sat up in surprise, “Your father shot you?”

“To be fair, I had just stabbed my mother while she was sleeping, so…yeah. After he shot me, they took me and Sammy away again. But they gave Sam back because they figured I was the problem.”

“What happened to you?”

“Group home with a bunch of other kids as angry and fucked up as I was. That’s when it really started.”

“What started?”

“This,” Dean motioned to the marks he had left on Castiel’s neck. “I tried so many times to kill my parents, and I fucked it up every time. But something else happened every time, too…I liked it more and more.”

“Violence?”

Dean nodded, “Hurting people. I used to beat kids up at school when I bothered showing up and then tell them I’d hurt their little brothers or sisters if they told anyone. I got off on it. On their fear. Kids saw me on the street and took off the other way. Hell, I had my own room at the home because no one would bunk with me.” Dean smiled at the memory.

“So, you’ve always been violent and isolated. Not a great combo, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes flared at Castiel’s sympathetic tone. “I’m not fucking telling you this so you can feel sorry for me, Cas!” Dean got out of the bed, “I’m telling you, so you fucking know your place. You aren’t fucking special, Cas. You’re a couple of holes for me to fuck. You’re a submissive bitch I can do what I want to. Don’t fucking act like you’re better than me!” Dean stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Castiel knew Dean’s words should have hurt, but they didn’t. He had opportunities to leave, and he didn’t because he didn’t want to. Castiel had his own story. Felt the pain of his own abandonment from the people who were supposed to love him. Dean was the first person he’d met in his entire life who seemed to have genuine feelings for him, and Castiel was so desperate for that he gave himself up to the killer almost too easily.

He got out of the bed and opened the bathroom door without knocking. Dean was leaning against the wall next to the sink. His arms touched the wall as if preparing for the police to frisk him. He looked over as Castiel entered the bathroom and then turned away. Silently, Castiel approached him from behind and pressed his body against Dean’s. Both naked, both slicked with sweat and cum from hours of fucking. He rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder as he brought his right hand around and began stroking Dean’s cock.

With one arm wrapped around Dean’s waist and the other tugging at Dean’s cock, Castiel moaned into Dean’s ear as he jerked him off. Dean tried not responding but eventually gave in and grunted along to each stroke of Castiel’s hand.

It wasn’t long until Castiel felt Dean’s cock throbbing and knew he’d be coming soon. He went to his knees and gently turned Dean toward his face, continuing to stroke him off the entire time. Looking up at Dean, he parted his lips and slowly let his tongue slip out of his mouth just as he jerked Dean’s cock wildly. Dean stood stoically as he began to come and, but for a few more grunts, didn’t make a sound as he stared into Castiel’s eyes while he came all over his face. Just before he was finished, he grabbed his cock away from Castiel and forced it into Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel greedily swallowed the rest of Dean’s offering, and when Dean was spent, he roughly pulled his cock out of Castiel’s mouth and pushed him aside. As Castiel hit his head on the bathroom floor tile, Dean walked out of the room without saying a word.

Castiel decided to take a shower, and when he came out wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, he saw that Dean was fully dressed.

“You should go stay with your family, Cas.” Dean was looking out the window with his back to Castiel.

“No,” Castiel responded as he started putting his clothes on.

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“I know.”

Dean turned to him and saw the bruise forming on his forehead from where he hit the bathroom floor. “I’m gonna end up killing you. Maybe on purpose, maybe not.”

Castiel nodded, “I know,” he said again.

“And I might not be as nice about it as the Shanahans.”

Fully dressed, Castiel sat on the bed, “I like my chances with you.”

“I once buried someone in wet cement only up to their head and then used a golf club on their face until they were unrecognizable as a person.” Dean’s voice showed no emotion. “And all they did was forget to make a payment to the family.”

Castiel watched as Dean started to pace but didn’t say anything.

“And then I fucked a whore while replaying the entire thing in my head. I got off on it, Cas. I GET off on it. And you…well, fuck, me having feelings for you just makes hurter you even hotter.”

“I haven’t left.”

Dean stared numbly at him.

“I’m here, right? I could have left. How many times could I have left, Dean? And I didn’t.” Castiel chuckled, “You don’t corner the market on being fucked up, you know.”

Dean studied Castiel, “You aren’t even stoned.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I thought it might be the drugs keeping you around. Man, when you’re fucked up, you barely know what’s going on.”

“I know what’s going on,” Castiel seemed hurt.

“But right now? I just told you that story, and you didn’t even fucking blink. I work for a crime family full of psychos who are afraid of me, and I don’t even make you flinch. How’s that happen?”

Castiel didn’t respond.

“You need to go,” Dean demanded.

“If you want me to go so bad, Dean, why haven’t you just left me? Wouldn’t that be easy?”

“Does that hurt?” Dean tapped the side of his face.

“Yes, it hurts.”

Dean nodded.

“Are you going to leave me?” Castiel’s eyes were sad and silently pleading with Dean.

Dean sighed, “No. I can’t fucking leave you, Cas. You’re like this tumor in my fucking brain, Cas. Like you’ve attached yourself to me, and I can’t get rid of you.”

“I’m a tumor?” Not exactly the words Castiel wanted to hear.

Dean shook his head, “No. You’re an addiction.” Dean walked over to Castiel and pushed him onto his back. “I’m fucking obsessed with you, and eventually, one of us is gonna be really sorry about that.”

“Dean,” Castiel started to speak, and Dean wrapped his hand around Castiel’s neck and squeezed, immediately silencing him.

“Not a fucking word, Cas. Not right now.”

Struggling under Dean’s force, Castiel closed his eyes as he felt Dean tearing at his pants, knowing he was in for another rough day and wondering if Dean was right and eventually, he’d be sorry he let himself stay in this situation.

They were in the car – again – and Castiel was curled up against the passenger’s door, watching Dean as he fixated on the road ahead of them. He was shaky, but his head was clear, both because he hadn’t taken any pills in days, and the reality of their circumstances was hitting Castiel hard.

“I killed someone,” he whispered mostly to himself, but Dean heard him.

“You saved my ass.”

“But they think I killed Mike and Craig.”

“Nah, they know who did that.” Dean considered this, “Although I guess maybe if they thought you were a rat…”

“I have nowhere to go.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“And I have no money.”

“I told you; I have money. You don’t think I actually use a bank, do you?”

Castiel noticed that Dean was gripping the steering wheel tightly enough that his knuckles were turning white.

“Is something wrong, Dean?”

Dean chuckled, “Aside from us being on the run from mobsters… Nah, I’m good.”

Castiel slid across the seat and slid his hand into Dean’s pants. Slowly, he began to massage Dean’s cock.

“What are you doing?”

“You look like you need to relax.”

He pulled Castiel’s hand out of his pants, “I’m good.”

Castiel was confused, “Are you mad at me?”

“You’re not my sex slave, Cas. You don’t need to fucking service me all the time.”

Castiel ignored him and slid his hand back into his pants. Instinctively, Dean backhanded him across the face.

Castiel cried out and, recoiling from the hit, went back to sitting against the door.

“I fucking said no,” Dean grumbled.

“You are mad at me,” Castiel said.

“Cas, I don’t know what I fucking am right now. I know I have no plan. I know we’re driving to nowhere.” He looked over at Castiel, whose nose had drops of blood on it from when Dean hit him. “And I know I have you completely fucked up, even when you’re not high. That’s it. That’s all I got, Cas. You, this car, and some money that’s eventually gonna run out.” Dean slammed the steering wheel, “That’s what I’m mad at, okay?”

Before Castiel could respond, Dean’s cell phone vibrated.

“You still have your phone?” Castiel was genuinely surprised.

Dean took the phone out of his pocket, quickly glanced at it, and threw it on the seat between them. “It’s a burner. And no one has that number except Sam.”

“You contacted your brother?”

Dean grunted in response.

“Dean, why?”

“I was gonna sign his stupid papers, Cas. No sense fucking him up just because all this has gone to shit.”

Castiel’s face softened, “See, it’s stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what?”

“You aren’t the horrible person you think. You think you’re evil, Dean. Unredeemable. Maybe soulless? But you care about other people. You care about me. You care about your brother even if he doesn’t care about you.”

Dean purposely avoided looking at Cas, “I care about that baby Eileen is carrying, Cas. That’s it. If that kid has even a speck of a chance of not growing up like me, I want him to have it.”

“Money doesn’t make someone a good parent.” Castiel paused, “Trust me.”

Dean chuckled bitterly, “Yeah, I had you pegged for a rich kid. What happened?”

“I wasn’t a rich kid. We got some money when my parents died. Well, my aunt got it. I don’t think it worked out the way my parents planned.”

“I told you about my family, Cas…” Dean looked over at him, “And we have a lot of time to do nothing.”

“You don’t want to hear my story.”

“Sure, I do. Especially if it’s worse than mine.”

Castiel reached into his pocket and took out a prescription bottle, “I’m going to need some help, then.” He popped a few pills in his mouth and Dean pulled a flask out of his own pocket and handed it to him. After he drank down the pills, he wiped his mouth and handed the flask back to Dean, who took a sip and it back in his pocket.

“My aunt didn’t really want us both after my parents died. She wanted Jimmy, of course. But she tried to send me to someone else, anyone else,” Castiel scoffed, “But she didn’t get any takers.”

“What was so great about Jimmy?”

Castiel shrugged, “He was smart. And quiet. And he was really neat. Never made a mess that he didn’t immediately clean up.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m serious. He was just this perfect little man, you know? And my aunt adored him. I was three, I guess, so that made Jimmy seven when we moved in with her.” Castiel went silent.

“You remember shit from when you were three?”

“I slept on a dog bed in the basement. It’s kind of memorable.”

“A dog bed?” Dean looked over at Castiel, “What the hell is a dog bed?”

“You know, like a big, round pillow that a dog can fit on to sleep on the floor. A dog bed.”

“You slept on a fucking dog bed?”

Castiel nodded. And then, with the pills kicking in, he laughed. “When I got too big for the dog bed, she put me in the bathtub.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas.”

Castiel shrugged, “It wasn’t so bad. What she did to Jimmy was worse. I mean, not what she did to him but…”

“What?” Dean was getting frustrated with the way Castiel was telling his story. “What did she do to Jimmy?”

“She turned him against me. Told him I was stupid. Trash. She always told me I was trash. That was her word. She’d say I was trash that no one wanted, that she got stuck with, and she wasn’t going to let Jimmy get held back by me.” Castiel threw more pills in his mouth and swallowed them dry. “And he didn’t.”

“He bailed on you after she died. Before you even started high school,” Dean’s tone was bitter, and Castiel looked surprised. “You told me that before. I listen.”

“I didn’t blame him. Still don’t really. Most of his life he was told that I was useless and a burden. Why would he want to take that on?”

“You aren’t useless, Cas. You aren’t a burden.”

“I’m definitely a burden. Especially to you, Dean.”

“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know. But you aren’t useless, Cas. You saved my fucking life. You took care of me when I got shot. That’s not useless.”

They sat silently for a few miles until Dean decided to speak again.

“What did you do? After Jimmy went to school?”

“Short version? Lived on the street, got addicted to heroin, od’d a couple of times, and ended up in an adult group home for addicts. Met some people who got me work as a busboy, and then ended up working for the Shanahans. The American Dream.”

“Heroin, huh?”

“Good stuff.”

Dean chuckled, “Man, you aren’t the altar boy I thought you were, are you?”

“If only you knew.”

Dean nodded silently.

“Dean, can we stop? At a motel?”

“You getting tired, Cas?”

“A little. But mostly, I just want to…” Castiel trailed off and stared longingly at Dean.

Dean finally looked over at him, “I can’t tell if you’re genuine or just really fucked up, Cas.”

“Dean, I don’t have a good reason why. I mean I know you should scare the hell out of me; but you don’t. I know what you’re capable of, the things you’ve done, the things you want to do, and I don’t care. I just know this is where I want to be. Where I think I’m supposed to be. And as long as you’ll let me hang around, I want to stay.” Castiel slid across the seat and again put his hand in Dean’s pants. This time Dean didn’t protest when he began stroking Dean’s cock.

“All right, Cas, we’ll stop.” Dean grabbed the back of Castiel’s hair and forced him down so his mouth mashed against the fist pumping his cock. Immediately, Castiel released Dean’s cock and engulfed it with his mouth.

“And I’ll fuck you all night long.” Dean sighed wistfully, “But then, my sex-crazed, drug-addicted friend, we’re gonna have to make a plan. ‘Cause if we don’t. We aren’t gonna last too much longer out here.”

Chapter Text

Castiel was asleep, draped across Dean’s naked body, lightly snoring as he pressed his body tightly against him. Dean hadn’t found sleep so easily, and he sat up, his arm around Castiel, contemplating his next move.

He eyed the cell phone on the table next to him and considered calling his brother. He didn’t want to put Sam or Eileen in danger, especially not Eileen, but he also didn’t know how much longer he could go from motel to motel without any plan.

But there was something else eating at Dean. Something darker and more sinister than him worrying about what to do next. He looked down at the sleeping Castiel and studied his face. There were fresh bruises on it, as well as around his neck. Things had gotten rough between them, again, while they fucked. And in the moment, Dean was in heaven, and Castiel seemed eager to please him, but now, in the quiet of the night with the man he thought he loved clinging to him like a lifeline, he hated himself. Hated how much he needed to hurt people. Hated how easy it was to hurt Cas, the one person who hadn’t ever hurt him.

Dean couldn’t deny it, though; the violence was a part of him, and it had been for as long as he could remember. He often blamed his parents for the way they raised him, or, rather, didn’t raise him, but if he was honest with himself, it had been there forever: the anger, the compulsion to lash out, the pleasure of hurting someone, anyone…it was always there.

So Castiel was just the most current person he tormented, and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to really hurt someone. Witness their life force seep from their body because of him. And he wanted it immensely. It was an urge he couldn’t contain much longer. Dean chuckled to himself. Most of the Shanahans thought he only killed for money, but Mike had known. Mike knew how much he enjoyed it. And Mike eventually ended up on the receiving end of it.

He looked down at Castiel again. He didn’t want Cas to meet the same fate as Mike.

Dean slid out from under Castiel’s arm and got off the bed quietly. He made his way across the room and began rifling through a duffle bag until he pulled out a small black case. Unzipping it revealed a hypodermic needle, and Dean walked back to Castiel and stabbed him in the neck with it. Castiel awakened long enough to gasp in pain, and then he fell back onto the bed.

Dean ran his hand through Castiel’s hair. “I just need you to sleep a little longer, Cas,” he whispered. Then he got dressed and left Castiel alone in the motel room.

He didn’t have any compunction against killing an innocent person. Sure, he stayed away from kids, and usually women too, but if he couldn’t find someone he thought deserved to die, Dean’s bloodlust could be sated by killing pretty much anyone. Even so, he made his way to the dive bar just across the highway from the motel, figuring it was as good a place as any to find a victim. Knowing he’d be taking off soon after, he didn’t even try to be inconspicuous. He sat at the bar, chatting up the bartender and anyone sitting around him; he made himself seen while he sussed out who best he could exploit for his predilection.

There were plenty of people to choose from and he narrowed it down to a woman a good ten years older than him who hung over his body buying him drinks and who could barely form a coherent sentence due to how drunk she was and a handsome man about his age who also kept buying Dean drinks but wasn’t nearly as handsy or inebriated as the woman.

He went to the men’s room to make his decision, and when he returned, the only person sitting near his empty barstool was the man who had said his name was Hall. Dean approached the bar and looked around.

“We’re alone?”

“I gave her a hundred dollars to get lost,” Hall winked at Dean.

Pretending to be taken aback, Dean feigned blushing, “For me?”

Hall smiled, “I don’t mess around when I see what I want.”

Dean was feeling good, but he wasn’t as drunk as this man seemed to think he should be, and Dean knew to play into it.

“Good thing I need a ride home, isn’t it?” Dean drunkenly leaned into the man.

“Meet me out back, and I’ll get you home,” Hall leaned in and bit Dean’s bottom lip before hopping off his barstool.

Dean found his way to the back entrance after Hall left the bar. He absently fingered the gun in his waistband and tapped the sheath holding his blade. He didn’t love that he wasn’t sure how it was all going to go down, but his adrenaline was pumping, and his cock was already rock hard as he walked out the back door.

He didn’t see the fist but felt it when it connected with his face. The force of the surprise attack spun him around and gave Hall the opportunity to slam him into the brick building.

“Fuck!” Dean yelled, and Hall grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the building again. Dean heard his nose crack and felt the blood start to pour from it.

“I like it rough,” the man hissed into his ear.

“Me too,” Dean whispered.

“Good.” Hall let go of Dean’s head and grabbed his waist.

Dean knew enough not to let him go any further. Still dazed, in one swift move, he spun himself around and pulled the gun out of his waistband, pressing the muzzle under Hall’s chin.

Not expecting Dean to be that quick or armed, Hall took a step back in surprise. “I don’t want any trouble,” his voice was shaking.

“That’s where we differ, Hall. I came looking for trouble.” Dean waved the gun at him, “Now move. Let’s go to your car. And if you try to run, I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head. Got it?”

Hall nodded nervously and then led Dean to the darkest part of the bar’s parking lot, where he had parked his car. Dean had scoped out the parking lot and the bar long before he walked in. There were no security cameras, not even floodlights in the parking lot. He felt very secure in being able to get the job done without anyone getting in the way.

He forced Hall into the backseat. “Lie down on your back.”

Hall obliged, staring nervously at Dean’s gun as he flattened himself on the seat.

“Take off your clothes,” Dean demanded.

Hall started to sit up, and Dean hit him in the face with the butt of the gun, knocking him on his back. “Did I tell you to fucking sit up? Just fucking strip.”

“Please,” tears sprung to the frightened man’s eyes as he began taking off his clothes, “Don’t kill me.”

Dean closed the back door and hopped into the front seat. Holding the gun on Hall while he watched him strip, he locked the doors and then laughed, “What can I do, Hall? What can I do before I leave if I can’t kill you?” Dean wiped some of the blood from his face with the back of his hand. His broken nose was starting to throb, and it was distracting him.

“Anything!” Hall seemed excited, almost eager, as if he found a way around whatever Dean’s plan was for him. “Fuck me. Beat me. Piss on me. I don’t care. But, please, don’t kill me. I don’t want to die!”

“Piss on you?” Dean teased, raising his eyebrow, “That’s awfully specific, Hall. That something you’re into?”

“I’m into whatever you want me to be into,” Having completely stripped, Hall sat up slowly, and Dean let him. “Let me show you.”

Dean raised the gun so Hall had a clear view of it. “Let me tell you what I’m into, Hall. I wanna carve into you like I’m Michael Myers. I wanna hear you scream while I stick you like a pig.” Dean surprised Hall by quickly crawling over the seat pinning him down, and shoving the gun into his mouth. “I wanna finger fuck the bloody holes I make in your body while I jerk off all over you. That’s what I’m into.”

Hall pushed against Dean’s chest, struggling to get him off, and Dean responded by punching him in the face. He stuck the gun in his waistband and pulled out his knife.

“Thought I was kidding, huh, Hall?” Dean smiled as he took the knife and pressed the tip against one of his nipples. “These are useless on men, aren’t they?” Without waiting for a response, he slashed the blade across the nipple, cutting it clear off Hall’s body. Had it been a different time of day, someone would surely have heard Hall’s screams, but at this time of night, in a mostly empty parking lot, Dean was satisfied he had plenty of time to play.

“Guess I’m gonna have to do something about that, huh?” Dean forced Hall’s mouth open with one hand, and he immediately covered it with his own. Deeply kissing the man, coaxing Hall’s tongue into his mouth and then biting down as hard as he could on it. Hall’s screams were muffled by Dean’s mouth this time, and Dean didn’t let up until he had bitten as much of the man’s tongue as he could clean off. He sat up, rolling the tongue around in his mouth, and then spit it on Hall’s chest.

Hall was shaking and sobbing; Dean had terrified the fight out of him, and he didn’t protest when Dean forced his mouth open again and shoved his chewed-up tongue back into his mouth.

“Swallow it,” Dean commanded, and Hall sobbed as he swallowed his own tongue.

“Good boy.” Dean took his blade and sliced into Hall’s right cheek, “Now we can have some real fun.”

Castiel woke up feeling like a truck had hit him and had no idea where he was. It took only a few moments for him to realize he was back in Dean’s car, lying in the back seat with Dean’s leather jacket covering him like a blanket. His head throbbing, he slowly sat up and looked around confusedly.

“Dean? How did I get in the car?”

“I brought you, Cas. We had to go, and you weren’t waking up.”

Castiel’s neck hurt, and he covered the painful spot with his hand, “Did you drug me?”

“We’ll talk about it later, Cas. Kind of in a hurry here.”

Castiel flipped himself over the seat and sat next to Dean. “Are we running from something? Did something happen?”

Before Dean could respond, Castiel’s head cleared enough for him to take a good look at Dean. He was covered in blood, his knuckles were a mess, and his nose looked like someone had pushed it around his face.

“Dean…what did you do?”

“Nothing anyone will bag me for if we keep moving, Cas.”

“Are you all right?” Castiel reached to touch Dean’s face, and Dean pulled away.

Hurt, Castiel turned away and looked out the side window. It was almost dawn, but he had no idea what day it was or where they were, which had almost become his default setting lately.

“You killed someone.”

Dean could hear the disappointment in Castiel’s voice, and it upset him.

“It was either him or you, Cas. So, I made an executive decision.” He looked over at Castiel, “Understand?”

Castiel nodded. “You didn’t even clean up. That’s not like you.”

“We needed to get out of there. I kind of left a mess, and it was too close to the motel. If we stayed…”

“You might have gotten caught.”

“Yeah, I might have gotten caught.” Dean looked in the rearview mirror and let up a little on the gas. “But I think we’re good. No one is chasing us. They probably didn’t even find him yet.”

Castiel turned back to Dean, “Why Dean?”

“Because I need to, Cas. That’s it. I told you, there’s a good chance one day it’s gonna be you.”

Castiel chose to ignore what Dean said. “We can’t ever go back, can we? To Kansas?”

“No, Cas, we can’t. That would be suicide.”

“So, how are you going to see your brother?”

“He’ll meet me wherever I want, Cas. Once I tell him he can have the money, he’ll show up wherever he has to.”

Castiel rested his head on the back of the seat and sighed, “I’m really tired, Dean.”

Dean sighed as he reached over and ran his hand through Castiel’s hair, “So am I, Cas. So am I.”

Chapter Text

Sam looked down at the papers that Dean had just signed.

“You sure about this, Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m sure. I have some money. Me and Cas will be fine.”

Sam looked across the booth at Castiel quietly sitting next to Dean. Sam was sure he was stoned and shook his head.

“I’m not so sure about that, Dean.”

“We have to take off. Don’t know where to, but far away from where you are.”

Sam looked around the restaurant, “You mean you aren’t going to stay in Charles Town, West Virginia forever?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Maybe we will,” Dean offered. He looked at Castiel softly, “Cas likes it here.”

“It’s quiet,” Castiel agreed.

“I don’t know what to say, Dean. This is…” Sam picked up the papers, “This is something.”

Dean nodded, “Good.”

“So now what?” Sam watched as Castiel picked at the food on his plate. “Do I want to know why you’re running?”

“We aren’t running, Sam. We just needed to leave.”

Sam scoffed, “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“You got what you wanted, Sam. Are we done now?”

“You’re in trouble.” It wasn’t a question.

“Less trouble the further away from home we get.”

“You’ll never change,” Sam shook his head. “I don’t know why I even try to think you’ll ever change.” Sam put the papers in the briefcase that was lying next to him.

“Remember what Dad always said? Leopards can’t change their spots.”

“Dad did.”

Dean’s eyes widened in disbelief, “What did you say?”

“Dad changed. Mom too. You just weren’t there to see it because you tried to kill them.”

“I’m not doing this, Sam.”

“Does Cas know? How you ended up finally succeeding in killing our parents?”

“I didn’t kill Mom and Dad. People broke into the house…”

“YOU broke into the house, Dean. It was you. I know it was you.”

Castiel took a bottle out of his pocket and threw some pills in his mouth. He grabbed the beer sitting in front of Dean and used it to wash them down.

Sam scoffed again, “Not that he’d care. Look at him...”

Dean looked over at Castiel and softly smiled at him before turning back to his brother, “Leave Cas out of this.”

Sam stood up, taking the briefcase with him. “I’m leaving, Dean. Thanks for this. Don’t contact me again.” He glared at Castiel one last time and walked past the table to the front door. Dean could see the reflection of his brother in a mirror on the wall in front of their table. He saw Sam hold the door open for two men walking in, and he could have sworn he saw Sam nod back to their table.

“Fuck,” Dean said under his breath. “Cas, we gotta go!” He grabbed Castiel’s elbow and pulled him out of the booth. He dragged him to the back of the restaurant, toward the exit sign.

Castiel turned back to see what Dean was taking him from and saw the two men Sam had let into the restaurant running toward them.

“Dean?” He asked as Dean pushed him through the door and into the alley behind the restaurant.

Dean looked around and pointed to a huge dumpster across the alley. “Get in the fucking dumpster, Cas. NOW!”

Castiel didn’t question him. He ran to the dumpster and struggled with it but eventually flipped himself into it. The two men burst through the door just as Castiel landed in the pile of garbage unnoticed by them.

Dean turned to them both and smiled, “Daniel. Tommy. How long has it been?” Dean was oddly calm.

The man he called Tommy pulled out his gun but didn’t aim it, “Don’t make this hard, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Daniel added. “We don’t wanna do this here.”

“Where’s your little friend?” Tommy asked. “Where’s Castiel?”

Dean’s face went stony, “He’s not part of this. He’s gone.”

“We’ll find him. Boss really wants to see him.”

Dean noticed Daniel still hadn’t drawn his weapon. “Maybe we can make a deal guys?”

“No deals. You killed the boss’s nephew.”

“And poor Craig,” Tommy added. “Come on, Dean.” Tommy waved his gun, “Let’s not do this the hard way.”

Seemingly defeated, Dean nodded and walked toward them. “Okay, guys. Let’s do this the easy way.” Dean suddenly pulled out his gun and shot Tommy in the face before Tommy could even raise his gun toward him. Daniel’s reflexes weren’t fast enough to get to his gun, and Dean smashed him in the face with this butt of his, sending the man crashing to the ground.

Dean jumped on him, straddling his waist, and he shoved the gun into his mouth, breaking his front teeth. As blood poured out of Daniel’s face, Dean pressed the gun deeper into him.

“How’d you fucking find me?” Dean demanded.

Daniel mumbled incoherently around the gun in his mouth until Dean slowly pulled it out and smashed the muzzle under his chin.

“Your brother,” Daniel spat out pieces of his teeth as he spoke.

“Sam?” Dean was numb.

Sensing it was okay to do so, Castiel climbed out of the dumpster and walked slowly toward Dean. He looked down at the hole in Tommy’s face as he approached Dean on the ground and then put his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean…we probably don’t have a lot of time. Someone had to hear that shot.”

“How? How did you get my brother?”

Daniel was eager to talk, “He was easy to track down. Then the boss offered him money and told him we’d leave him and wifey alone if he gave you up. Then we waited.”

“Sam,” Dean repeated.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was urgent.

Dean put the gun back into Daniel’s mouth and pulled the trigger without hesitation, and the blast splattered Dean with the man’s blood and brains. But Dean didn’t even flinch. He just stared down at the hole that used to be Daniel’s face and said it again. “Sam.”

It was Castiel’s turn to take control. He grabbed Dean and dragged him to the car, and he was the one who got in the driver’s seat, just like that first night they spent together. As he sped away, he could hear the sirens heading toward the restaurant.

“So much for staying here,” he thought as he raced down the main street, away from all the action.

Dean sat in the passenger’s seat, still covered in Daniel’s bodily fluids, and stared out the window. “Sam sold me out.”

Castiel nodded, “Yeah.”

Dean clenched his jaw, “I have to find him.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Cas, Sam. I have to find him.”

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea, Dean.”

Dean glared at Castiel, “I didn’t ask you what you thought, Cas. I’m telling you that I have to find him.”

Castiel pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pants pocket and handed it to Dean. “This might help,” he said softly.

Dean tried to straighten the paper and read it, “It’s a receipt.”

“For the hotel he’s staying at. Guess he prepaid. Says he’s staying through tonight.”

“How did you get this?”

“It fell on the floor when he took the papers for you to sign out of his briefcase. I picked it up and tried to hand it to him, but he ignored me, so I shoved it in my pocket.”

Dean leaned over and gently kissed Castiel on the cheek, “You’re fucking amazing, Cas.”

“Do you think he’ll still be there? If he sold you out, maybe he just decided to bail?”

“We’re gonna find out, Cas. Right fucking now.”

Sam was on the bed, his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. If he was thinking about what he’d done, it wasn’t evident by how relaxed he seemed. He was practically asleep when a knock on the hotel room door brought him back to full consciousness.

As he looked through the peephole, his heart began to race at seeing his brother standing on the other side of the door.

“Open the fucking door, Sam. You don’t want me to make a scene,” Dean’s voice was low and calm.

Reluctantly, Sam opened the door and stepped aside so Dean could walk into the room. Castiel stood behind him and quietly followed Dean. Dean had cleaned up a bit, but his face still had traces of blood stains.

“Dean…” Sam closed the door.

“Not a fucking word, Sammy.”

Castiel looked around the room. It was bigger than anything he and Dean had been staying in, and he was impressed. He sat in a cushioned chair beside a large desk and watched the brothers.

“You sold me out.”

“They were going to kill me and Eileen, Dean. I had no choice.”

“They give you money?”

When Sam didn’t immediately respond, Dean slammed him against a wall. “Did they give you fucking money, Sam?”

Sam, his back against the wall, just stared at his brother.

“So, you really did sell me out.”

“You killed those people,” Sam’s voice was raspy with fear and anger, “Like you killed Mom and Dad.”

Dean slammed Sam against the wall. “I didn’t kill Mom and Dad! Christ, Sam, you know I didn’t kill them!”

Sam stayed silent.

“I hope they paid you a lot, Sammy. But they didn’t get their money’s worth. I’m still here.”

“They’ll find you, Dean. They found me.”

“Why, Sam? Why give me up to them? You had to know they were gonna kill me.”

“Better you than me, Dean. At least you deserve it.”

Dean was surprised at how much hearing his brother say that hurt him.

Dean spotted Sam’s briefcase on the floor. “I signed those fucking papers. For the baby.”

“So? Does that change everything else, Dean?”

“We were taking off. You would have never heard from me again. You didn’t have to get me killed.”

Sam stared directly into his brother’s eyes, “The world will be a better place without you in it.”

Dean turned away from Sam and walked toward Castiel. “Let’s go, Cas. This was a waste of time.”

Castiel stood up slowly. “Dean…he almost got you killed.”

Dean shrugged, “And now we’re leaving.” He and Castiel walked together to the door. Dean opened it and stepped out of the room as Castiel lingered. He looked back at Dean’s brother and sadly shook his head.

“Just so you know,” Sam said to them both, “Eventually, they’ll get to you. If you contact me again, I’ll contact them.” Sam’s face was a mask of hate and anger.

“No,” Castiel whispered. “You won’t.”

“Cas,” Dean leaned into him and took his elbow, “Let’s go.”

Without warning, Castiel turned toward Dean, reached under his coat, and pulled Dean’s blade from its sheath. He turned quickly and lunged at Sam, thrusting the blade into Sam’s stomach.

Not expecting the attack, Sam had no defense prepared, and before Dean could get to him, Castiel pulled the knife out of Sam and repeatedly stabbed him with it, never making a sound as he did, just staring into Sam’s eyes as he fell to the floor.

“Cas!” Dean yelled as he got to him and held his arm up away from his brother. He squeezed his wrist until Castiel had to drop the blade which made a dull thud as it hit the carpeted floor.

Dean fell to his knees next to his brother, “Sammy?”

Castiel stood over them both, not saying a word.

“Eileen…” was the last thing Sam said before he closed his eyes and died.

Dean was driving again and driving fast. His hands clenched around the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road, he drove with a purpose and seemingly ignored Castiel sitting next to him.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Castiel’s voice was soft and a little shaky when he finally spoke.

“I don’t want you to apologize.”

“He was your brother, and he was going to let them kill you.”

Dean didn’t respond.

“And now…”

Dean looked in the rearview mirror at the back seat. Sam’s briefcase was there, holding all his papers and his wallet. They had left his phone and his suitcase of clothes, but they took the stuff that was worth something. Sam’s paperwork and a few thousand dollars in cash. Dean thought it best to make it look like a robbery gone bad.

“At least we got some more money, right?” Dean offered.

“He wanted you dead,” Castiel said. “So, I’m glad he’s dead.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle, “Cas, I’ve completely corrupted you.”

Relaxing a little because Dean didn’t seem mad at him, Castiel moved closer to him. “Are you sad, Dean?”

Dean nodded, “A little. I’m sad about what he did. I’m sad you thought you had to do what you did.” He sighed, “And I’m pissed that I didn’t do it first.”

Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Now what, Dean?”

“I wanna mail those papers to Eileen. She shouldn’t suffer because of all this.”

“And then?”

Dean sighed, “I don’t know, Cas. I mean…we’re kind of safe, right? Sam’s gone; the family doesn’t have a way to find us. Maybe we just go live in the woods and forget everything else in the world?”

“You’d live in the woods?”

“I really liked that farm, man,” Dean smiled. “I miss that.”

Castiel kissed Dean’s cheek, “Then let’s go live on a farm.”

Chapter Text

Dean scrolled through the pictures on his phone, stopping occasionally to study them. Castiel noted a small smile cross his face every time there was a clear shot of baby Samantha.

They had taken a quick trip back to Kansas, in a rental car no less, and spied on Eileen and the baby for a few days before returning home to Tripplehorn, Massachusetts. The small farm was hidden away in the small northern town, but Dean seemed happy. That was enough for Castiel. Dean showed him how easy it was to create fake identities, and for almost a year, they had been living as Jeffrey and Maxwell Dalton. A happily married couple from the Midwest who bought the farm from the kindly older couple who had owned it for fifty years.

No one needed to know that Dean killed the couple and forged all the documents of the supposed sale. They raised chickens and sold eggs at the local market, and grew pumpkins to sell in the fall. Dean found ways to keep the money rolling in that Castiel didn’t ask him about, and Dean rewarded him for his trust by supplying him with as many pills as he wanted.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.

Castiel walked behind Dean and began rubbing his shoulders. “Maybe someday we can visit her?”

Dean shook his head and put down the phone. “Not gonna happen, Cas. I’m pretty sure Eileen thinks I had something to do with Sam’s death.”

Castiel’s eye twitched. Sam’s death was a sensitive spot with Dean even after a year. Castiel still believed Dean resented him for killing his brother, even though Dean continued to deny it. But Dean’s mood only got worse after they left Sam, and his violence toward Castiel got more intense. As he sat rubbing Dean’s shoulders, he had a split lip that was throbbing and fresh marks around his neck from where Dean had choked him the last time they fucked. Dean was holding in even more anger than he usually did, and Castiel was convinced it was all over Sam.

“That feels good, Cas,” Dean closed his eyes. “Let’s move this to the bedroom.”

Castiel stopped rubbing Dean’s neck and slowly followed him to their room. It was early, and if Dean was ready to get started now, Castiel knew he was in for a long night.

Dean was fucking Castiel hard. Which was nothing new, but since he’d been doing it for hours, Castiel was in more pain than usual and groaned under the abuse. Dean had one hand on his waist and the other tangled in his hair, pulling at Castiel’s hair as he continued to violently fuck him. Holding himself up on his hands and knees, Castiel pleaded with Dean.

“Please, Dean, stop,” he panted. “It hurts so much.”

Dean ignored his begging and fucked him faster. He let go of Castiel’s hair, slamming his head into the headboard just before grabbing his cock. Pumping it to the rhythm of his harsh fucking, he leaned in and hissed in Castiel’s ear, “Come for me.”

Castiel moaned. He knew Dean would make him come. Dean always made him come. Dean owned him. His body, his mind, even his soul. What other excuse was there for Castiel having killed two men just to protect him? Castiel had given in to the idea of Dean essentially being his master months ago, but it didn’t take away from the pain. Didn’t make Dean’s violence hurt any less. Even with the drugs that Dean made sure were running through Castiel’s body day and night, Castiel knew this was his life from now on. Whether through destiny or Castiel’s desperate need to have someone, anyone care about him, Castiel was here and wasn’t going anywhere…ever. And Dean knew it, too.

Roughly pulling his cock out of Castiel’s ass, he laughed as Castiel cried out in pain.

“Don’t be a baby, Cas. We aren’t nearly done.” Dean flipped Castiel over and straddled his face, forcing his raging hard-on into Castiel’s mouth without any protest.

Castiel was becoming an expert at cock sucking, and he took Dean’s sizeable cock into his throat, allowing Dean to face fuck him deeply. He grabbed his cock and began stroking himself as Dean viciously used his mouth.

Dean was still fucking his throat when Castiel started to come. He screamed around the cock in his mouth as his semen spurt all over himself and the bedding around him. Still, Dean didn’t stop. It was at least another ten minutes of his cock battering Castiel’s throat before Dean’s cock began to throb. He forced it as far down as he could and held it there while he ejaculated directly down Castiel’s throat.

Castiel coughed around Dean’s cock, and some of his cum spilled out the sides of his mouth. But Dean didn’t move until he was finished, and then he pulled out of Castiel’s mouth and got off the bed without a word.

Castiel rubbed his neck as he watched Dean get dressed. “Are you going somewhere?” He whispered, his throat too sore to speak too loudly.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answer to, Cas.”

Castiel knew that meant he was going out to kill someone. And he knew it was because if he didn’t go, he’d probably stay here and kill Castiel.

“Not too close to home, Dean.”

Dean’s face got red with anger, “You think I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, Cas?”

Castiel sat up, “No. I just want you to be careful.”

“Would you rather I stayed here?”

“Yes, actually, I would.”

Dean walked over to the bed and grabbed Castiel’s chin. He kissed him hard and bit his tongue when Castiel slipped it into his mouth.

Castiel pulled away and put his hand to his mouth.

“I’m in a mood, Cas. You don’t want me around right now.”

Castiel knew he was right, but he also knew he was wrong.

“Stay,” Castiel looked into his eyes. “Do what you want.” Blood was coming out of his mouth in a small trickle. “It’s safer this way.”

Dean chuckled, “Safer for me. Not so much you.”

Castiel shrugged but didn’t say anything.

“I wish I could stop,” Dean sounded sincere. “But I don’t wanna stop. You know?”

“I know, Dean.”

“You killed my brother.”

“I know, Dean.” Castiel looked down, unable to meet Dean’s eyes.

Dean sat on the bed next to him. “If I stay tonight, I can’t guarantee we’re both gonna wake up tomorrow.” He caressed Castiel’s cheek and, with his fingertips, gently lifted his face so he was looking at Dean again. “I want to. But I can’t.”

Castiel nodded, “I still want you to stay.”

Dean lay on top of Castiel and kissed him again, “You know if I don’t kill you tonight, that doesn’t guarantee I’m not gonna eventually kill you, right?”

Castiel nodded again.

“But then again, I might never kill you.” Dean scoffed. “I just might fuck you up enough that you’ll never be able to leave me.”

“I don’t plan on leaving you, Dean.”

“You got nowhere else to go.”

“There’s nowhere else I want to go.” Castiel meant it. God help him; he meant it.

Dean nodded, “Good. Then I’ll stay. And we’ll fuck. And if the universe wants it to happen, tomorrow we’ll both wake up and do this whole fucking thing all over again, Cas. How’s that sound?”

Castiel reached out and put his palm against Dean’s cheek, “It sounds like the only choice we have, Dean.” Castiel closed his eyes as he felt Dean sink his teeth into his neck and moaned as he felt his own cock already starting to get hard again.

He was where he belonged.