It was the end of the longest shift of his life. His body felt limp, all dull aches and pinpricks. Castiel didn't make a habit of hanging around outside at night. Then again, he didn't smoke either but right now he was watching the tendrils of grey rising to become part of the clouds. He was trying new things tonight.
And Gabriel was back at the apartment -Castiel's apartment- lounging on the couch, half buried in candy wrappers. When had summer vacation turned into a gap year? Sometimes Castiel worried that his older brother would never go back to school.
He had taken a seat up on a high brick wall outside the gas station, blowing wispy trails of smoke. The night was cold but in a knit sweater he only felt the nipping about his cheeks and nose. Castiel watched, disinterestedly as a big, black, classic car pulled into a pump. He had never liked old cars, not really. They seemed so ostentatious, especially when young men drove them, looking like they'd accidentally lifted it off the set of Grease, and so self satisfied about it. Then again, everyone had their hobbies, and some people had classic cars.
"Got a light?"
Castiel hadn't even seen the man approach.
"Oh, yes." He fumbled to extract the lighter from his pocket, his heart rate slowly returning to normal.
"Thanks. Shit," the man turned seemed to search his pockets, "any way I could bum a cigarette off you to?"
"That's fine." Castiel hadn't smoked long enough to guard his pack with any kind of jealousy.
"Thank you, man."
The lighter flashed to life, catching a pair of astonishingly green eyes. The part of Castiel that was a lit major wanted nothing more than to apply beautiful, flowery metaphors and similes to those eyes, but he had more dignity than that.
"Been a long drive." The man said with a smile just discernable in the darkness. "Man, I needed a smoke."
"Glad I could help."
The strange man heaved himself up beside Castiel. Now that his face was in the glow of the gas station, Castiel could not help but stare a little. He was, there was no other word for it: beautiful. Perfectly shaped lips, rough chin, sandy hair, and of course, those brilliant green eyes. Though something about the man struck him as oddly familiar, that thought was shoved to a back corner of the brain. Castiel swallowed, hoping to force down the blood that he felt rising to his cheeks.
"It's freezing out here, man." His companion complained, rubbing his hands while holding the cigarette between his teeth. "It always this cold around here?"
"This time of year, yes." Was Castiel really having a conversation about the weather?
"Just drove in from California. Not this cold in November out there." The man's voice was rough, with a hint of a twang.
"That's a long way to drive in a day." Castiel remarked.
"Well you know, that's my life. Go where the job takes me, don't complain."
"What sort of job?"
"Well hey now, a man's got to keep some secrets. I don't even know your name."
"It's Castiel." He didn't wait to answer but jumped on the tail of the man's question so quickly he nearly caught it.
"Castiel? That's …unusual. I'm Dean, by the way." He smiled, blowing a plume of smoke into the air between them. Slightly less romantic than mist, Castiel thought.
"Unusual?"
"Well I've never met another Castiel."
Dean stared ahead for a little while, as if he were studying the gas station scientifically. The black car was pulled up to a pump, a behemoth of a man in a plaid shirt was fueling it up.
"Is that your car?" Castiel asked at last.
"Yeah. That's my baby." Dean said this proudly. Suddenly Castiel wondered if maybe he'd misjudged young men who drove classic cars.
"It's very nice."
"I think so."
Another pause. Castiel threw aside the used-up cigarette butt and pulled a new one from the carton. He realized Dean still had his lighter.
"Wait," Dean said when Castiel requested it. "There's something I wanna try. I've seen it in the movies."
"Alright." Castiel agreed dubiously.
"Okay, so you hold your cigarette in your mouth, and I hold mine like this," he clenched it between his teeth. "Then I lean over and try…" He seemed to be trying to match the two ends up, to light Castiel's with his own. "Almost…" Though he didn't know what to think, Castiel found this strangely enjoyable. He felt his spirits rise with the sense of fun. Dean was the type of man he'd always secretly fantasized about. Wild, rough around the edges, with just a hint of crazy.
All of a sudden, the cigarette slipped and Dean's lips were on his. The next thing he knew he was kissing Dean, a total stranger, gripping at his grey jacket, pressing himself against him.
"Hey," Dean said, pulling away, "on a scale of one to ten, how crazy would it be if we hooked up in the bathroom over there? Just a little fun, just this once. What d'you say, Cassie? "
Castiel had never had spontaneous casual sex before, especially not with strangers he'd met outside gas stations at night. And maybe it was the part of him that wanted to smoke cigarettes and tell Gabriel to move out and be fucking crazy, but he said yes. Yes.
"Watch the car Sammy!" Dean called as they walked past the pump where the car was parked. 'Sammy' rolled his eyes in a perfect expression of distaste.
Then the two of them were in the bathroom, Dean was running his hands under Castiel's sweater, leaving warm tingling trails. They kissed again, hungrily, lustfully. Dean trailed kisses down Castiel's neck, not tender, but wild and buzzing with sexuality. Castiel was just beginning to fiddle with Dean's fly when the unthinkable happened.
He was slammed, suddenly and painfully, into the tile wall of the bathroom. Dean was looking at him with green fire in his eyes.
"Didn't anyone teach you about stranger danger?" He asked in that gruff voice, suddenly so packed with mal-intent. "Big mistake Cassie." And Dean raised a fist. Castiel felt the blow to his cheek, sending him dropping to the floor and into darkness.
When Castiel awoke he became aware of several things in very quick succession. One: he was gagged, two: he was folded over in a terribly uncomfortable position, three: his hands were tied behind his back, four: he was in a very dark, very small space and it was moving. And now he was crying.
He felt no shame in being a twenty three year old man and crying. He was tied up in the trunk of a car, probably going to die. And why? Because he'd been stupid enough to hookup with a stranger who he'd known for maybe fifteen minutes, in a gas station bathroom. All he wanted now was to go home, to bicker with Gabriel and inevitably settle on the floor next to the couch and watch shit TV with him, all differences put aside. He'd give anything to be writing papers, worrying about finishing all his reading in time. Anything, anything but this.
He felt the car moving quite fast. He wondered half heartedly, how long it would be before somebody reported him missing. Gabriel would be worried right away. He was always over protective. But the police wouldn't start looking until he was what, forty-eight hours missing? He could be dead by then. And Dean probably wouldn't kill him quickly, no, if that was his intention Castiel would already be dead. He cursed his stupidity again.
It was another six hours before the trunk was opened. The man who looked in was not Dean but the other man, the huge, plaid wearing one. Close up he didn't look much older than Castiel. Shaggy brown hair swept across his face and like his comrade he was incredibly good looking. The behemoth regarded his captive disinterestedly.
"He's fine." The man called, presumably to Dean.
Castiel was not fine. After all those hours his tears had dried as sticky salt trails on his face but the mental anguish had only given way to physical pain. His limbs were sore from being folded so long and his wrists, bound with rope, felt as if they had been sanded. He felt half dead already.
"Get him out of the car." Dean's voice.
"We're bringing him in?"
"Yeah. Quick."
"Come on."
The tall man grumbled, pulling Castiel roughly by the neck of his shirt. He was forced out of the car and into what appeared to be a motel parking lot. He could barely stand. His legs were weak and shaky.
"Come on!" The man urged him again. "Walk naturally." Castiel felt the definite pressure of a gun against his back.
He bit down hard on the gag, trying to smother his fear. His captor led him to one of the rooms. Dean was inside, laying out several big and dangerous looking guns on the bed. He turned around when Sam came in, eyes sliding easily from his accomplice to his prisoner.
"Hey there Castiel." Dean grinned. Castiel hated him. He hated him so much. "Sit him in the corner." This to the behemoth.
Once he was seated in the corner of the motel room furthest from the door and directly in front of Dean's bed, his gag was removed. He choked on the emptiness of his mouth, still tasting the acrid rag.
"Please!" Was the first thing he blurted out. "Please let me go! Please, I won't tell the police, I won't tell anyone!"
"Shh." Dean smiled again. "Pipe down Cassie. Do you know who we are?"
Castiel shook his head.
"I'm Dean Winchester, and bigfoot over there is my brother Sammy."
Winchester? No. No, please, God that couldn't be true. Castiel knew of the Winchesters. They'd been on the news time and time again, killing their way onto the FBI's most wanted list. They were the ones who robbed banks, shot up diners, and burned corpses for fun.
"No," Castiel whispered. "I- I'm just- I'm a student, I'm normal, I work at a bakery."
Dean chuckled. "This might surprise you, Cassie, but most people are normal. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And really fucking stupid."
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Oh, probably. But not right now."
Castiel felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Oh."
"Speaking of," Sam cut in, "when are we gonna kill him?"
"Eventually." Dean sounded bored already.
"Eventually, Dean? You do realize we're gonna have to drag this kid around as long as he's alive right? I mean, isn't that a little risky?"
"We've taken hostages before."
"Yeah, when we needed them. I mean, why did you even take this kid?"
Dean shrugged. "He's cute and stupid? I don't know. But come on! We've been hunting for months. Just this once I'd like to kill something that doesn't have a criminal record."
Vaguely Castiel remembered that the Winchesters were known for targeting other criminals. Not that they always did. For every drug operation they wiped out to the last man, there was also a bank robbery, a grocery store they shot up. This just kept getting worse. Castiel wanted to start crying again.
"Kill him soon, Dean. This makes me nervous. I don't wanna get caught over some dumb kid you picked up for no reason."
"Sure, sure, whatever, Sammy. Eventually."
Sam sighed and made for the door. "I'm gonna go check out the bar around the corner. You coming?"
"Nah," said Dean, leaning back on the bed. "I think I'll stay here and chat with Cassie."
The other brother left with a shrug.
As the room lapsed into a temporary silence, Castiel just hoped and prayed that Gabriel had called the police. He wasn't ready to die.
