A/N:Chapters should run at about 10,000 words. Unfortunately, I can't really give you guys weekly updates like I did with Divine Right. However! I am going to illustrate this one, so prepare for my shitty art!
Also, while I was writing this, I made an 8tracks to go with it, so if you wanna listen... 8tracks bastetcg/devil-s-toll
This chapter has not been beta'd but when it is, it'll be done by the lovely Gem (abusingtheprivliege on tumblr)
Castiel squinted in the sun that beat down on the Kansas town. The summer was oppressive in terms of heat. He could smell the sun's rays reflecting off the dusty ground ahead of him. The town was just as dusty as everything else it seemed. Each wood paneled building was rather flimsy compared to what he was used to seeing back home. The smattering of unmeasured, un-sanded facades played directly into his preconceived idea of "Territory Town". If he were honest with himself, he had no idea what he was doing here, especially given the sweltering summer. No, wait, he had an idea, but it was a darned stupid one that his brother had forced on him. He could still remember sitting across the desk from his brother Gabriel, in his own home, getting told that he needed to come out of retirement.
"You were a sheriff for six years and then you just quit! You were making more money than most lieutenants I see!" Gabriel, as a commander in the army obviously knew what he was talking about, but the opportunity just hadn't interested Castiel at the time. "And you'd be making double that in half the year out west!"
"Somehow I think you might be exaggerating that." Cas leaned back in his still but well upholstered office chair. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about donning a copper's hat, but it had always been a passing bit of nostalgia. He was fine in his life of solitude and silence.
"I'm not! The army's looking for good cops and sheriffs to send that way, and they've even promised a train ride over to the stations and a percentage of any loot you might confiscate. That's a hell of a deal, Cassie."
"I told you not to call me that," Castiel warned.
"You told me not to call you that when we're in public," Gabriel threw right back.
"And I'm not particularly interested in money or gold or any of that greed-inducing stuff. I was sheriff of New York for six years! I got my pay and I let someone else take the burden. I have everything I need. My home is here. My family's here."
"What family?" Gabe laughed, "You mean me and Michael? Isn't it time you found a nice omega to settle down with?" Cas snorted rather immodestly at that.
"There's not an omega in the country that would want me. Or beta or alpha for that matter."
"Exactly! That's why I'm telling you to go out west! To the Kansas Territory!"
"I don't know, Gabe," Cas shuffled some papers around on his desk and glanced to the side out the window. It was spring, and the flowers in his garden were just starting to poke through their new greenery. "I can't just pick up and leave all this on some half-witted scheme to get myself hitched. I'm just not that interested in starting a family right now. I'm staying here. Home."
Gabriel rolled his eyes and picked up his military coat. Cas had to admit that its brass buttons and shining hand embroidered emblems did look mighty fine in the spring light. And there was a small pang of longing for his old dust blue uniform. He swallowed the thought and kept telling himself otherwise.
"Besides, there's some right ungodly things happening in the territories, what with the south and such."
Gabriel turned to him and set his eyes dead on Castiel's. He breathed out and said slowly, "Don't you think I know that? Why in the hell would I ask you to go out there otherwise?"
The look in his eyes was what made Castiel think it over. It's true he wasn't getting any younger, and meeting a nice beta or omega to start a family with would be nice, but the idea that there were things Gabriel would act seriously for meant it was deadly. Three days later, Castiel went to see his brother at the commissioner's office and accepted the job offer.
Alright, so maybe Castiel wasn't out here for some stupid reason. That didn't mean he had to like it. In fact, he was starting his preliminary round with what he predicted would be the most troublesome point of his new job. As he looked up at the sign, Harvelle's Roadhouse: Saloon, Hostel, and Slickery, Castiel took a whiff of the dry late-spring air and touched his badge, just to make sure it was still there.
This place was obviously a whore house, if the bright colors and relative lack of horses meant anything. Not to mention the stench of sex and omega. If he had to guess, there were probably about eight to twelve omegas living under that roof, and at least one beta. The only alphas were guests only, and their scents were old, stale compared to what he could smell of the omegas. He glanced around the dead street and stepped up onto the porch. He felt his blood quicken as he pushed the door in. A wave of scent more incredible than he'd ever experienced washed over him immediately.
In fact it was almost disgusting how much the place stank. Definitely a brothel. And the omegas were probably upping their potency with those awful perfumes and smelling salts. Trying not to lose his lunch over the disgusting smell, he barely managed to look up when a voice called to him.
"Hey, tall man!" it said. Castiel slowly turned toward the bar counter. A woman with gray-ish brown hair stood there, watching him through narrowed eyes. She had a hand in one of her many shot glasses, cleaning it with a white scrap of cloth. "We ain't open yet."
"I'm not here for a drink."
"We still ain't open." She glanced up at the second floor, which apparently wrapped around the back and sides of the rectangular saloon. "And I ain't afraid to call the sheriff on your ass either, alpha."
Cas laughed to himself as he took in the rest of the whore house. He saw that behind the bar, there were all kinds of alcohol. He didn't recognize most of it, not being a big drinker, so he let his gaze drift over to the other half of the wall. There was a large metal box wrapped shut with chains and a sign that said "Ellen only". So the beta at the bar must be Ellen. And that box must be where they keep the extra slick she sold.
"And what in the name of hell is so funny, stranger?"
Looking in the opposite direction, at the large stage and several tables set up for viewing , Cas answered, "I know that if you call the sheriff, no one will come." Ellen bristled at that, hoping Castiel wouldn't call her bluff.
"And how can you know that? You need to leave!" Cas laughed again.
"Look, let me be clear. I'm not here for any of the services you offer-"
"Then what the hell are you here for? Get out!" Cas rolled his eyes and continued on despite her interruption.
"I came here to scope out where I'll be spending most of my time for the next two years."
"The hell do you mean?!" Ellen was getting extremely distraught at this point, so Cas just pulled his coat out of the way and flashed the shiny gold star at her. She shut up immediately and went quite dumb. When she finally got her voice back, she immediately began scuttling around behind the bar and speaking rapidly.
"You just sit right there and I'll get you somethin' on the house sheriff; what's your pick?"
"Whoa now, I told you I'm not here for any of your services. I'm here to look and to caution."
"No need for that. Though we might be calling you e'ery coupla' nights to get some john off one our omegas. Have a drink."
"Sarsaparilla."
"Not an alcohol man are we, alpha?"
"Never could hold it," Cas replied with a grin.
"Name's Ellen Harvelle," she smiled as she stuck out her hand. Cas took it and shook it. He was surprised at her strong grip, but didn't say anything about it. "I'd have you meet the omegas, but they're all sleeping at the moment. You can probably guess we have some pretty late nights."
"I'd assume so."
"I appreciate you comin' out here, Mr…?"
"Novak. Castiel Novak."
"Sheriff Cas," Ellen nodded to herself with a small grin. "I appreciate you comin' out here from whichever Yankee town you're from, Cas. We were getting right crazy with that posse taking over."
"Posse? What posse?"
"Ain't no one told you? The Devil's Toll Posse? Alastair and Azazel?" She looked expectant, but Cas just shrugged. "You tellin' me they sent you out here, but didn't think to tell you what you was up against?"
"I was sheriff of New York for a long while, Ms. Harvelle. I can take care of a few unwell vigilantes." He didn't like the way her jaw tightened at his statement, but she turned back to her mid-shelf liquors and poured herself a shot.
"Imma trust you on this, Sheriff, but I pray to God that you won't underestimate us Western folk. We're tougher than grit and harder to kill than a god damned skeeter! You watch out for them Devil's Toll boys, you hear? I can't stand to see 'em take another young soul." There was a strong silence between the two as Ellen poured herself a second shot and downed it. Cas had to admit he was pretty impressed with her tolerance. She wasn't slurring or wobbling at all. The quiet was not uncomfortable, as Cas might have guessed it'd be, since he'd basically come to tell Ellen that he wouldn't take any kind of nonsense from a brothel owner. But Ellen seemed like a well-grounded woman, someone he might even be able to trust one day. And it seemed she ran a clean operation, regardless of how deplorable he found her profession.
"I saw ya lookin' at the stage. You like it? Had it put in last spring. Not this spring, last year's spring," she clarified. Cas nodded, not really agreeing, but letting her know he was still listening. "Used to be a sorry piece of leather spread out in front the tables, but we got a glut last year, and the omegas wouldn't stop beggin' for a better stage. So I got 'em the best one I could buy in these parts."
"They have similar clubs in France, I believe," Cas mused. "Can-can dancing is quite the spectacle, I hear."
"What, you a traveled man?"
"Oh, no," Cas laughed. "I read a lot." In truth, that was how he'd spent most of his short-lived retirement. He'd read while he ate breakfast, until and during dinner, and up to and through supper. And then he'd continue until morning, usually waking up with the pages kissing over the bridge of his nose. He looked down at his sweating glass of bubbles. Ellen probably already thought him some kind of pansy, and here he was telling her he read a lot. Like that would help him shot a man off a horse or keep an angry man from shooting up the drug store.
"Hmm. I think I like that. Harvelle's: French style saloon. Gotta be good for sales. People round here love stuff that sounds sophisticated."
"Whatever's good for business," Cas sighed.
"You gotta problem with my business, don't you?"
"It's not exactly legal."
"How so? I'll have you know that this is one of the most respected and successful places of business in town. And it ain't like we prostitutin' our omegas out."
"What?" Cas couldn't believe what he was hearing. Maybe Ellen wasn't as good a citizen as he thought.
"Well you saw the sign outside. This here a saloon, hostel, and slickery. All three are completely legal."
"So you're telling me that not one of your omegas has exchanged sex for money?"
"Naw!" Ellen said through a big lopsided grin. "We sell drinks, rooms, and slick. What happens after the sale is..." She waved her hand vaguely in the air.
"Loophole," Cas smiled bitterly at his soda. "There's always some way to get around the rules."
"Not my fault that sex sells. In fact, I'd rather it didn't. That's why I set up shop the way I did." Again, she lost Cas. He narrowed his eyes in confusion up at her and she chuckled to herself. "You think I'm some senile old bag! Naw, see I treat my omegas right. They don't gotta sleep with anyone if they don't wanna, but that's where their share of the pay comes in. E'ery night we pool all the money we earn the, omegas and me, and I take what I need to cover expenses for the buildin' and the bar, and they split the rest-"
"Depending on how many johns they've slept with that night," Cas finished. He had to admit, it was a much nicer set up than what he'd seen back in New York. He swallowed another gulp of his drink while his mind flashed to some of the terrible things he'd seen in brothels. Dead omegas lying in festering pools of blood, or mangled limbs tied to a bed post with stomachs cut open, or worst of all, left to miscarry. Cas took a breath to pus those memories away. Ellen was talking again, thank God.
"My own baby girl worked here the longest time," she sighed. "But she got enough in her purse she can go east and get herself and education." She blew a hot breath on the glass of a whiskey tumbler, then wiped away the residual mist. "Working on becoming a copper, she is."
"You must be mighty proud."
"You bet I am! I want her to have the world. And if this is the world she wants, then she's gonna get it."
"I hope to meet her in the field someday."
"You'll have to send me a telegram if you ever do."
"If they ever get telegrams out this far. Otherwise I'll have to deliver it myself. Never did trust those ponies." Ellen laughed outright at that.
"You know Sheriff, I think you and I will get along just fine."
"I hope that's the case." Cas shifted in his seat. Something had changed in the empty saloon, but he couldn't place his finger on it. It was too subtle under the stench of fake omega. He returned his attention back to Ellen.
"We usually don't get too much trouble. Unless the posse's in. Then it gets right bad. But it's the same all over town. The townsfolk ain't got no problem with followin' the rules-"
"Oh like you?" Cas interjected.
"Shut yer mouth I'm talkin', but once the posse come into town, e'erybody get real nervous like. And there're robberies and fires happenin' all over. Despicable, really."
"And the leaders Alastair and…?"
"Azazel."
"Azazel. Are those their real names?"
"No one knows. No one ever asked. It don't much matter what their names are if they burnin' your home and husband to ash."
There was another long silence between them as Cas put together what Ellen had said.
"Ellen, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, just make sure it don't ever happen again."
"You know I can't guarantee that."
"Right. Can't punish a man for a crime if that crime ain't justified by law." The scalding comment made Cas think for a moment. In fact, he was about to counter her remark when a shrill shriek broke into the air.
"Oh! Auntie Ellen, you didn't tell us we had company!" So that was what Cas had noticed earlier. The smell of a real omega resurfacing among the countless fake scents wafting through the saloon. Cas turned to the stairs where the shrill voice had come from and was absolutely shocked out of his mind. He almost stood and ran right then. At the top of the staircase stood a man dressed in a satin corset and skirt set, which he'd hiked up to his hips using belts. Male omegas weren't unheard of, but uncommon. Male omegas dressing in skirts and dresses weren't even all that uncommon. In fact Cas had to question why he was so surprised by the sudden appearance. After about a second of thought flying faster than his horse, Cas realized it was because the man's physical appearance, as well as the full force of his scent.
He was beautiful. He slung a stocking covered leg over the staircase balustrade and let himself slide down. His smell was deep and drawing, and his eyes seemed to never stop asking questions. He hopped off the end of the hand rail and skipped over to where Cas sat at the bar. Cas would never admit that his cup shook in his hand when the man approached him, slinking to him and getting right in his space.
"What have I told you about usin' the stairs Dean?"
"Ah, come off it Ellen!" His voice made Cas wince inwardly. It fit with his clothing, but not his smell. Was he…Was this Dean wearing make up? "I'm just tryin' to get to our first customer before the others steal him away!" lilted Dean. Cas tried to scoot his bar stool away as Dean lifted himself up and plopped down on Cas's lap. Cas had to hold on to the bar with all his strength to keep from falling backwards, but Dean didn't seem to mind. He just threaded a hand through Cas's hair and pressed their foreheads together.
"Sweetheart, that ain't no customer," Ellen tried to warn.
"Aw, really? And here I thought I was gonna get to bed a mighty handsome one tonight. You sure I can't interest you in a room?" Dean ground his hips down onto Cas's crotch and let out a breathy sigh. His breath smelt sweet, but Cas had as good a grip on himself as anyone could have. He never stopped trying to get away.
"Dean, you just offered yerself to the new sheriff. How do you feel, you dumb ol' fool?" Dean sat completely upright, to which Cas let out a relieved breath.
"What you just say?" the strident voice next to his ear made Cas want to push away, even if the scent of Dean's slick made him want to grab and pull to him.
"Cas here's a new sheriff 'round here."
It was silent between them as Dean looked between his boss and the man beneath him. Once he decided that Ellen was telling the truth, he let out a loud bark of laughter. The rest that followed made Cas confused yet again.
"Whew! You got me going, Sheriff!" He slid off Cas's laugh and leaned on the bar instead. "I apologize, from the deepest depths of my damned soul." Cas just stared at him. His voice must have dropped about eight octaves, not that Cas knew anything about music. This new voice suit him much better in Cas's opinion, but Cas told himself he didn't have an opinion, so that was that, and he should probably stop staring. He grabbed his drink and downed what was left of it.
"Not a problem. Should really learn to introduce myself." He stood and turned to go. He'd finished his business. But that high pitched voice made him stop.
"Oh, Sheriff! Sit and stay a while longer, won't you?" Dean coughed and his voice dropped again. "Sorry, I mean we don't get too many visitors that ain't here for…" he shrugged and grinned at Cas almost sheepishly.
"See boy, I told you that you'll scare off every sane man who walks through those doors with that voice of yours," Ellen chided.
"Well I can't help it if the johns like fuckin' a man with a girl's voice! It's good for business an' you know it! It's the same with these god damned bloomers!"
"Oh don't you play, Dean. You like the bloomers."
Dean looked down and fidgeted with the hem of his skirt. "A'right, I do, but that don't mean it ain't annoying to have to dress up for this shit. Plus, make up's messy," Dean complained.
"Well you know you can leave whenever you like. And I ain't forcin' you to do nothin'."
Cas felt rather awkward sitting in on this conversation. He wasn't particularly interested in hearing the details of a prostitute's profession, even if it was technically legal. He stood shifting from foot to foot, caught between the door and the conversation before him. Ellen had taken his empty glass and was currently working it down with a clean cloth.
"When's Benny due in?"
"Any minute."
"Really, is it that late already?"
Cas took out his pocket watch and flicked it open. "It's almost three," he supplied.
"Would you look at that!" And Dean was upon him again, but this time with his real deep voice. "Where you from where you can pull that out like it ain't nothin'? I knew you a Yank, but whew, you must be some kinda heir or somthin'!"
"It's…it's just a pocket watch," Cas tried to lean back, but Dean had his hands under his coat, slowly moving up and down his suspenders. Cas gulped and Dean grinned smugly at him.
"You're a little alpha, ain't you?"
"Dean!" Ellen called from behind the bar. "Don't be insultin'!"
"It's fine, I'm aware I'm not quite what most expect. But I believe the same could be said about you, Dean."
For a moment, Dean was struck silent, but then his grin grew wider and he laughed. "Oh I like this one! He got a tongue on him! Oh, what's that?" Dean pulled open Cas's coat to see what he'd caught his hand on, and shrieked again when he saw the shiny star pinned to Cas's suspenders. "Whowee! Well if that ain't the shiniest badge I ever did see!"
"It's probably the only badge you did done see, Dean," said a deep and syrupy voice.
"Benny!" Dean cried. He practically threw Cas away as he hopped over the bar to embrace Benny. Cas sized him up as quickly as he could. Was he an alpha? Cas tried to scent the air an found he couldn't get a read on this new man. Maybe a beta then? Cas couldn't imagine and alpha working around all these willing omegas. But then Ellen had a pretty good amount of smell on her, so why couldn't he smell Benny?
"How you doin' Dean? That sleazy man give you much trouble then last night?"
"Not after you gave him a right talkin' to." Cas felt even more uncomfortable when Dean began nibbling along Benny's neck, either in gratitude or…something else. Cas didn't want to think about it too hard.
"And who might I ask is this alpha here before hours?" Benny didn't put any real heat in the words, rather he sounded almost bored, like he'd seen this too many times to be bothered feeling anymore.
"Sheriff Cas," Ellen said with a quick hand gesture. "He's gonna try and take care of us."
"Pleasure," Benny reached his free hand out over the bar to shake Cas's. "I trust you're a good shot?"
"Best in New York." Benny laughed, and Dean made a shushing noise.
"Well buy, I think you'll find things are a little different here." Benny had a thick accent. It was thicker than Dean's or Ellen's. Cas narrowed his eyes at the insinuation.
"You a creole?" he said softly. Benny shut up and glared right back at Cas.
"I ain't no creole, but most my friends are. What you got against 'em?"
"Nothing. Just trying to get a feel for who I'll be dealing with."
"And what the hell's that supposed to mean?" Benny was raising his voice. So he was an alpha. Cas grinned. No beta would think to stand so firmly against an alpha. That was part of why Ellen had warmed up to him so fast. He glanced at Dean who was staring at him from his place leaning on Benny's neck.
"Alright you two, calm down. I ain't gonna have my best bar back getting' arrested on the sheriff's first day. That's bad luck. Dean, go wake up the other omegas. You got some cleanin' to do." And Dean was gone, racing up the staircase and disappearing into the first room he came upon. "Benny, I need inventory. Go tally up the whiskey and scotch barrels, would ya'?"
"Course, Ms. Ellen." She gave him a pat on the back as he walked by.
"And I trust you got some more places to scope out?"
"I apologize, I didn't mean to antagonize him," Cas bowed his head.
"Ain't no problem. I know too well what happens when you get two alphas and an omega in the same room," she said with a raised eyebrow.
"I-uh, I don't-"
"Don't worry 'bout it Cas. Ain't your fault. You come by tomorrow 'round the same time I'll get you another drink."
"Thank you, Ellen."
"Welcome, Sheriff. You be careful out there, now."
Cas nodded and took one last sweeping glance around the saloon before ducking out the door. That had to have been the strangest encounter he'd ever had in a brothel. Not that he frequented brothels that often. And certainly not for sex. He was only there for police work, and why in the name of hell was he justifying himself to himself? He was here one day, and the heat was already messing with his head. He dropped his train of thought with a sigh. Time to focus on the job. Next up was the general store, and he wanted to make absolutely certain that there wasn't any kind of smuggling going on there.
Castiel hanged his first criminal a month and a half later. It was quite the event, apparently. A whole crowd gathered around to watch Brady, a small time burglar turned arsonist, dangle from his neck. Cas honestly didn't understand what the appeal was. He'd seen so many people die, he supposed the novelty had worn off; then again he'd never found it thrilling, even in his early days as a copper.
Pastor James read the man his last rights, praying to God to save the mad man's soul. Cas doubted it would do anything for the criminal. The man was practically foaming at the mouth as he stood there. Cas had tied the rope that hung off Brady's left shoulder himself. He'd learned from his chief, Raphael, the different ways to tie nooses. Raphael had been a sick son of bitch in Cas's opinion, but he was a damned good copper.
"Always remember that you can put on quite the show with a hanging, Castiel," Raphael had said. "If you tie it right, like this see? If you tie the noose right, the stupid ass man'll suffocate. Takes a right long time too. Sometime you even gotta hang 'em more than once." Then he laughed. But if there ain't any spectators, tie it like this," he had untied the noose and done it back up again, slightly differently. "It'll break their neck and you're done. No blood, no blue faces, but it sure is fun to watch 'em piss 'emselves."
Cas had always favored that second noose. The only times he would let his criminals suffocate was when he knew Raphael was watching. He never taught his cops how to suffocate a prisoner when he took over. He could only hope that method would die out.
The priest turned to Cas and gave a nod. Cas sighed heavily. It was his turn then. He looked Brady in the eye as best he could then recited, "Brady Jefferson, you are to be hanged this ninth day of June in the year of our Lord 1853. You are charged with burglary, disturbance of peace, lewd behavior, and arson. Do you have any last words?"
There were shouts from the crowd, some demanding a retrial, others demanding Cas pull the lever before Brady could speak. Cas ignored the rowdy jeers and focused on Brady. The criminal spit on Castiel's boot and screamed to the air, "Devil's Toll has been paid!" And before he could say anything else, Cas pulled the lever. The floor dropped out from beneath Brady and a soft snap let Cas know he was dead. The crowd was silent, in shock, until the body began spasming. There was a roar of approval, as well as a few cries of terror. Castiel shuddered as Brady's slowly spinning corpse grinned back at him. He let out a disgusted groan when he saw the angel lust tenting the man's pants. Figures. Brady hadn't shocked them all enough, apparently, so he'd have to get a fucking erection after death. Cas just thanked whatever God there was that the man's head hadn't flown off from the force of the drop. He'd only seen it happen twice, but in his opinion that was two too many times.
Cas turned and descended the gallows' scaffold. He needed a drink and a long nap. The smell of panic and satisfaction mixing together made him angry. Brady had been a beta, and he'd confessed to everything without a second thought. Castiel secretly enjoyed being an alpha if only for the fact that he could intimidate criminals just by being present. One of Ellen's girls ran by screaming something or other. He could tell she was one of Ellen's mainly by the way she smelled and dressed. She looked like a carnival with pink frills and yellow netting all over. He should see if Ellen was in. That's what he'd do. It was still early, so Benny wouldn't be there. Not that he didn't like Benny, but they tended to get too close to blows for Cas to really enjoy his company. Ellen on the other hand was level-headed and easy to talk to.
He let the mulling crowd have their fun poking at the body and sneering at Brady's lifeless face. Many of them were shouting at the corpse, as if it could explain the awful things Brady had done. Someone called to Castiel, running to catch up with him as he left the scene behind him.
"Castiel! Sheriff Novak!" Cas recognized that voice but couldn't put a name too it. When he turned, he saw it was Charlie. She ran the pharmacy a few storefronts away from the Roadhouse. He'd been called out a few weeks ago by old woman Josie to investigate a few loud explosions coming from Charlie's store. Turned out she and her assistant Ash were experimenting again. Cas had sternly reminded them that they needed special permission to possess dynamite and confiscated their rather impressive supply of the stuff. Then he pretended not to hear Ash ask Charlie about the black powder out back.
"What can I do for you Charlie?"
"You're just gonna leave 'im hangin' there?"
"Let the people do what they want with the corpse. If it's not there when I get back, I figure it's not my problem."
Charlie looked a little disgusted at the idea, but didn't say any more on the matter. "Where are you headed so quick like?"
"I need a drink."
"So Ellen's then?" Cas nodded and turned to go. "Wait!"
"What Charlie?" She looked at the ground and fiddled with her trouser pockets nervously.
"Can I come with you? I've never been real good with death and stuff." Cas felt his face soften. Even if she was an alpha, Charlie was a nice woman, unlike so many of the other alphas he'd encountered in this town.
"I suppose, although I don't see why you bothered coming to an execution if you don't like death."
"Uh, curiosity?" Cas knew she was lying. He didn't know why, but he decided he didn't really care.
"Come on then. I'm not waiting for you."
"You know, you got all the town talking with your mysterious personality and lawfully apathetic attitude," she grinned. She had to jog a little to keep up with him, and he smiled to himself. He really wasn't that mysterious, but the only time people talked to him was if they needed help. He figured they didn't need his life story, and if they did, they'd ask. Charlie tried to get him to talk a little more on the way to the Roadhouse, but Cas mainly only answered in grunts or single syllables. Charlie didn't seem to mind though.
Apparently they weren't the only ones looking for a little forgetting potion. A small crowd mulled around the entrance of Ellen's place. Walking slowly, Cas tipped his hat at them. They grew silent and wide eyed when they saw him. One even looked upset, a beta named Tessa. Cas paid little attention to their small group. He brushed through the swinging doors and held one open for Charlie.
"The hell do you think you're doing?!" Ellen shouted as soon as she laid eyes on him.
"I'm sorry?"
"You killed a Devil's Toll member? Are you crazy?" She flipped the bar top up and made a b-line for him. For a moment, he was concerned that she might try and shake him, but she stopped right in front of him with her hands balled into fists. "You're gonna destroy this whole god damned town! Which one was it? Guy? Daeva? Lust?"
"Ellen , what on earth are you talking about?"
"Lilith! Lilith comes in here hoopin' and hollerin' about how Sheriff killed a Devil's Toll member! Who'd you hang? How bad we in for?"
"What the hell is Devil's Toll?" Cas had heard it once or twice, but usually in hushed conversation. He'd dismissed it as a rouge posse that he wouldn't have to deal with for a while. But seeing Ellen so upset made him rethink it.
"The scourge of the earth, if you ask me," came Dean's voice from the second floor. Hey Charlie, hey Cas," he said with a wink. He was in his underwear, a pair of white bloomers and an under bust corset, and of course thick eye makeup. Cas heaved a sigh, but almost choked at the smell Dean always seemed to bring with him. It wasn't as strong as the fake stuff the omegas wore around the brothel. He never quite got used to it though.
"Hiya Dean!"
"No one asked you Dean! Go get ready, would you?"
"What and ignore the two alphas already here?"
"Dean, sweetheart, you know I only come here for Gilda."
"I was hopin' I could change your mind," he teased.
"Dean!" Ellen shouted.
"Alright, alright! Jesus Christ, I'm goin'!" He glanced back over his shoulder and batted his eyelashes at Cas before he disappeared back into his room. Cas could feel his cheeks heating up, but whether from Dean's flirtations or Ellen's anger he couldn't tell.
"So?" she demanded, "Who was it? Who'd you hang?"
"Brady."
"Brady?" Ellen took a step back. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. Cas silently squinted as she wracked her brain for whatever she needed. "But Brady was a part of the town. He couldn't have been Devil's toll. That don't make no sense."
"He burnt down the Reapers' home. That's why I hanged him."
"Lilith said his last words were that his toll'd been paid!"
"Well I cut him dead before he could say much more."
"But he did say that? That he'd paid the Devil his toll?"
"Something along those lines."
"Shit!"
"You don't think the Devil's Toll gone and infiltrated the town do ya', Ellen?" Charlie looked a little nervous. "I mean, I ain't worried, I gotta stock of-" she glanced at Cas and then stopped completely. Her smile was large and tight-lipped.
"If they done gotten into the town, I pray for all our weary souls."
Cas almost rolled his eyes, but managed to control himself. Benny stepped into the bar before anyone else could say any more. His eyes were hard trained on Cas. "You doomed us all, brother."
"Excuse me," Cas felt self-righteousness surge in his gut. "I tried and convicted a criminal that was causing chaos in your all's town."
"Brady was small time," Benny shook his head. Ellen sighed in agreement.
"Look," Cas growled out, "This isn't my town, I don't speak the way you do, I know nothing of this place but what I've been told. I have tried my God damned hardest to understand all this nonsense about posses and debts to the devil, but whenever I ask no one will answer and no one will explain. So if you all are so concerned about me doing my fucking job, I'd love to hear the reasons as to why. Why is this posse so dangerous? Who's a part of it? Where do they camp out?"
Everyone sat in silence. Benny looked at the bar while Ellen rubbed the back of her neck. Charlie was awkwardly trying to fit her hands in her pockets again.
"You hanged Brady?" a deep voice startled them all out of their trance. Cas looked back up to see Dean leaning over the handrail of the second floor. His demeanor lacked its usual playfulness, and if Cas were completely truthful, it scared Dean more than Ellen's rage.
"Half an hour ago."
"Good. I knew that bastard was bad news."
"He was Devil's Toll, Dean," Ellen said quietly.
"We don't know that," Charlie commented with forced optimism.
"There's only one way to find out," Dean drawled. Without another word, he turned his back and retreated to his room once more.
"Shit," Ellen repeated.
"I'm still waiting for my answers," pushed Cas. He shook his head in frustration. Not only had his questions gone unanswered, he now had about thirty more. Dean was somehow connected to this mess, but he didn't even know if wanted to know how or why. He kind of just wanted to take that nap he'd promised himself earlier.
Grabbing her coat and hat, Ellen grit out, "We need to look at the body."
"Could be a problem," Charlie responded.
"I let it hang for the crowd."
"You did what?!" Benny and Ellen shouted at the same time.
"You just let a Devil's Toll Man hang?" Benny hissed at the sheriff. Ellen sighed and put a hand on his shoulder over the bar. Cas raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him and remind him of his ignorance at the same time.
"We need to stop wastin' time here arguin' and go grab that body before the kids start gettin' creative with it." She grabbed Charlie's arm on her way to the doors. "I'll try and explain on the way. Now get your alpha asses outta my saloon." Cas and Benny hurried their way after the two girls.
By the time they made it back to the gallows, just outside the edge of town, someone had cut Brady down and removed his trousers. Dispersing the remaining circle of angry citizens, Cas took stock of what the vigilantes had done to the corpse. He sneered at the smell of beta blood and felt Ellen wretch behind him.
Brady's penis was missing, along with several of his teeth. His nose was busted in. There were blood stains in the tatters of his black and white striped shirt. Pieces of his scalp were hanging off his head. And in the midst of it all, he still had that stupid smile twisting his face; only now his tombstone teeth were red like berries or the natives' beads.
"The hell'd you leave 'im like that for?" Cas glared at Benny. He ignored the comment and crouched down to assess the damage better. Cas unhitched his cudgel from his gun belt and prodded at the corpse's side. Ellen had to rush away and vomit from the smell and sight of Brady's intestines falling out the other side. "Flip him over on his stomach, brother."
"Why?"
"Would you just do it?"
"Last time I checked, I was the sheriff. Step back," Cas rumbled out.
"Alright, alright, you two," Charlie interceded, "Put your dicks away and communicate, won't you? There's no need for an alpha pissing match."
"Just flip him over, would you?" Ellen was breathing heavily, and spit to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. Cas sighed and did his best to push the corpse on its stomach without any more internal organs falling out. It wasn't as easy as he'd hoped. Surprisingly, Brady's back was mostly intact. If one could ignore the sticky red stain that had seeped back from his side, it was almost like he was sleeping. No, Cas thought. He definitely wasn't asleep. He knew better.
"Get the shirt off him," Benny commanded. Cas growled, but did as the man said. He didn't need to piss Ellen off any more than she already was. So he took a knife from his belt and slit Brady's shirt up to the collar. When the thin, worn fabric fell to the sides of the corpse Ellen, Charlie, and Benny all shirked away from the brand on the man's back. A huge pentagram decorated his skin, along with tattooed words in Latin circling the brand.
"What in the name of hell…" Cas squinted to get a better look at it in the light of the blazing sun.
"It's the brand of the Posse. You still think you got nothin' to be worried about?" said Benny. He rubbed his eyes and let out a low whistle. "Brother, you done doomed the town."
"We need to get Dean out here."
"What? Why?"
"He's the only one in town that can read Latin," Ellen snapped. That didn't make much sense, and Cas was about to ask why when Benny began heading back towards town.
"I can read Latin," he said incredulously. "I went to University."
"Oh so you learned too?" Benny patronized him. "Well let's see what Yankee can do. Why don't you tell us what his rank is, huh?"
"Alright, I will. Let's see here…" Cas squatted down again to get a better look. He used his knife to lift extra cloth off Brady's back. "Hade's man…Initiated 1851…and then the number three. And there's a bible verse here too. Mattheus 4:8-9."
"Matt-hay-us? I'm a good Christian man, I ain't too certain that's a book there, Cas," Benny said with a twang of judgment.
"Mattheus is Latin for Matthew. The book is Matthew, chapter four, verses eight through nine. Now we just need a Bible."
"No you don't. What I just tell you? Matthew four is the stories for the last weeks of Lent, brother. So…" Benny looked to the sky like God himself would descend and give him the answers. "Temptation. That's gotta be the forty days in the desert!" he exclaimed. "We need a Bible!" Cas rolled his eyes at Benny's idiocy.
"What else it say?" asked Charlie.
"It looks like it's just more about their gang. Uh, loyal to the ceasar, whoever that may be…disciples of the Lord of Darkness…in exchange for their lives, they get an eternity by his side."
"Satanists," Benny spat. The thick string of saliva splattered right where Cas was reading. He glared up at the southern man, but kept reading to the best of his ability.
"This isn't Satanism, Benny." Cas wiped dust from his eyes, a habit he'd picked up from living in the heat of the plains. "They tend to favor the idea of free will rather than organization. Tattooing likr this shows devotion Satanists wouldn't want to give." Benny looked at him, bewildered. His mouth hung open and his eye bugging out of his skull.
"How do you know that? You a Satanist?!" Benny took a step from him. Ellen and Charlie looked a little uncomfortable as well, but Benny was about to throw a fit. Cas sighed heavily.
"Catholic, actually." Benny almost relaxed when he said that, which had been the exact opposite reaction Cas had expected. "There are a lot of characters in New York," Cas lied. He changed the subject quickly after that; he didn't want to have to deal with their questions. "The number three, I'm assuming that's his rank, right?"
"That's what Dean said." Castiel looked Ellen dead in the eyes. She got the message immediately: 'We're going to talk about this, but later'.
"So he's third tier. Any of you know how many tiers there are?"
"Three," Ellen responded.
"So he's just fodder. My guess is that he's just a pawn, acting on his own or on the behalf of a second tier member."
"But why? You don't think they're planning anything, do you?" Ellen actually sounded worried, and that made the discomfort in Cas's chest press tighter around his ribs. The smell of blood and distressed beta were both getting to him. And Charlie's smell wasn't doing much to help either. It was like lead and sat at the back of his tongue.
"I don't know. But they're not getting this town."
"Comforting," snorted Benny. "God damn Satanists."
"Why'd they cut his thing off?" Charlie said in a small voice.
"He raped someone. Probably a mated beta or omega."
"How can you tell?"
"Only another alpha would find pride in castrating him like that. A beta or omega would settle for mutilation. So an alpha is getting revenge for the rape of his or her significant other."
"Damn," Charlie whispered. She couldn't stop staring at the brand.
"Ellen, you and Charlie should go back to the Roadhouse. Have a drink on me, Charlie." Cas yanked gloves off his belt and began prepping to take the body back to his sheriff's hovel. The undertaker had already prepped a crappy coffin for the criminal. And the gravedigger was probably about done with his job. Brady's grave would be about a mile out of town, where no one would dig him back up. Criminals didn't get buried in the church yard with the righteous folks.
"C'mon, girlie," Ellen draped an arm over Charlie's shoulders and turned her around. Cas expected Benny to follow them back into town, so when he bent down with Cas to take Brady's legs, Cas was confused.
"What are you doing?"
"Draggin' this asshole back to the station, right? That's protocol, right?"
"I don't need help."
"Would you just shut up and help me get him to the shallow grave he deserves?"
"This is my job. Not yours."
"Just accept the help, you prick!"
"Fine!" And that was how they carried the body back to Cas's work place. They shouted various curses at each other, and they dropped and dragged various pieces of the corpse, like the arms and head and liver, but they eventually got it to the back room of the station. They dropped his body on the ground, since Cas didn't want to deal with washing the cot or pallet. Brady'd made enough of a mess of his station already. Cas was about to head up to his room, but Benny caught him by the shoulder before he could mount the rickety wooden stairs.
"Where you think you goin'?"
"Bed."
"What about that drink you said you wanted?"
"It can wait."
"No it can't. C'mon." Cas followed the other alpha with a sigh. In the end, Cas was glad he let Benny tell him what to do. There was quite the party going on at the Roadhouse when they got there, and Ellen had been forced to open three hours early. Charlie was running drinks since Benny had been helping Cas, and when she saw him she practically collapsed.
"How do you do this all night?" She threw his apron at him and flipped the bar up so they could switch places. Cas watched and tried not to mind as a smelly alpha elbowed him in the side accidently.
"What's your poison, Sheriff?"
"Sarsaparilla."
"Whiskey it is."
"Benny-"
"You trust me on this, Cas," Benny growled with a raised eyebrow. He slid the sloppy glass over the bar and Cas caught it easily. With a pressed breath, he downed it. What happened next was blurry for Cas. He could vaguely remember getting a lap full of omega at some point, as well as participating (badly) in one of the dances that took place in the space just in front of the stage, where the citizens had cleared away the tables. Cas never could take his liquor. He hated Benny with the tails of his mind, but that wasn't important because the nightly show was starting up. Some of the omegas began tuning instruments, and Cas watched carefully from his seat. With a glance out the window, he could see how dark it had gotten, and almost wondered where the day had gone. He actually laughed when he remembered it had gone straight up Brady's ass, and out his festering mouth.
He was surprised when Dean and a few other omegas (mostly girls but maybe a couple other men as well) took the stage. The unorganized pulling and drawling on strings silenced from the makeshift orchestra. Cas almost jumped out of his seat when the music began. He recognized the song almost immediately as "Oh, Susanna" and laughed heartily along with the other patrons at the ridiculous lyrics. Dean and the other omegas danced and sang the words:
"A buckwheat cake was in her mouth, a tear was in her eye,
Says I, I'm coming from the south, Susanna, don't you cry.
Oh! Susanna, Oh don't you cry for me,
For I come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee!"
The crowd hooped and hollered at the omegas on stage shaking their rears and flaunting their legs. The full bustle skirts and tight-fitted corsets didn't do much to prevent the drooling alphas in the crowd. And it was a crowd, alright. Cas had been lucky enough to snag a chair. Charlie brought him another whiskey and he chugged it without a second thought. That was probably a mistake, but this whole thing had been once mistake after another, starting with accepting this stupid job offer.
But Dean was lifting his skirt and showing off his frilly white bloomers, along with another blonde omega. They stood back to back, then front to front, holding hands and singing at each other in the most provocative way. Almost like they might kiss. Cas could feel his face heat up, but couldn't tell if it was the liquor or the idea of Dean removing his skirts and drawers and…
Well, it was definitely the thought of Dean then. He swallowed thickly then finished off that second whiskey. Just in time too, because as the omega band made their final big crescendo of the silly song, all the omegas flipped up their skirts and presented their backsides to the audience. Some were even so flexible that they waved at the alphas and betas through their legs. Cas nearly choked on his drink as he swallowed it. He was a little glad he'd never stayed late enough to see the show in his short month there in Kansas. The performance was absolutely tasteless! Arousing, but tasteless nonetheless.
There was uproarious applause as the omegas righted themselves and bowed to their ever-grateful audience. The band, which Cas now realized only consisted of a washboard player, a fiddler, and a banjo mistress played a soft transition reprise as some of the omegas hoped off the stage to retreat to the second floor with suitors. Most of them just stepped behind the wings of the stage to get ready for their next number, whenever that was. The only one Cas really cared about was Dean though. He still didn't know why that particular omega had such an effect on him. And for some reason, Cas felt there was something important he needed to ask him, something about what happened today. What happened today, again?
Dean sat on the edge of the stage and the lights dimmed. One of Dean's fellow omegas brought him out a guitar and they exchanged quick kisses on the cheek. Cas watched with the upmost attention. He got why the omegas used so much perfume now, with the smell of alpha arousal almost overwhelming in the air around him. The music slowed and almost went a little mournful as Dean strummed the guitar.
"Tell me the tales that to me were so dear
Long, long ago
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear
long ago, long ago…"
Cas had heard the song a few times before; in fact, he'd heard it on the train ride over to the territory line. But Dean's voice was deep and rumbling and he sang it differently. Cas felt his eyebrows nestle together as he listened harder.
"Love, when you spoke, gave a charm to each word
Still my heart treasures the praises I heard
Long ago, long ago…"
A few of the alphas in the crowd whistled and called out to Dean, but he didn't pay them any attention. He was too busy dancing his fingers over the guitar strings. Cas was staring so hard he didn't realize another whiskey had appeared on his table. Nor had he realized Dean was looking up, directly at him. There was very little expression on that beautiful face, the same way it had lacked emotion earlier today. What had happened earlier today?
"Long ago, long ago…"
Dean let his hand drop to his lap. The band went quiet once more and the hollering stopped. Then before Cas could really process what was happening, the small trio of musicians let out a whoop and began tearing their instruments to shreds. The omegas came back on stage with Dean, all seemingly undisturbed by the previous weight on stage. The air cleared again and the patrons were calling at the performers once more. Dean tossed his guitar to one of the dancing girls and hopped off stage. Cas threw the whiskey down his throat when he saw the omega heading towards him.
"You're coming with me," was all Cas remembered before he completely blacked out.
When Cas woke up, he couldn't feel his head, or his arms for that matter. But just as soon as he found that thought, and put words to the sensation, the pain crashed down on his like a bucket of well water. He groaned and curled under the covers. It was much too bright in his room. He didn't have any windows in his room. That didn't make much sense. He took a deep breath in through the nose and hoped to God that it would make the pounding in his head any worse.
"Oh, you're finally up?" a voice rumbled from beside him. Dean. That was Dean's smell. Oh, it was incredible. Cas's headache didn't get any better, but it was a lot easier to ignore when it smelt like he was shoving lilacs and leather and honey up his nose. He craned his neck and groaned when his lips and the tip of his nose hit warm skin.
"Oh, so now you get all into it. I see how it is," Dean drawled out. Cas only moaned in response. There was too much happening for him to process it all. What he knew was that Dean's bed smelt like an angel had descended from heaven and kissed him. Dean's bed. It was Dean's bed. Cas was currently in this bed, curled up around its owner. Cas lifted his face towards the sun coming through the window in hopes that it would clear his head. All it did was made him grunt and squint. He turned back towards the warm, breathing, sweet-smelling man next to him and eyed him cautiously.
"Don't worry sheriff we didn't do anything wasn't kosher."
"What?"
"Given your situation and your hangover, you're probably worried you partook in an illegal transaction, but I can assure you sheriff, you were not up for that last night." Dean raised an eyebrow and a small smile. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
"The hell am I in your bed for then?" He peeled himself up off the bed and Dean's torso.
"Well you were supposed to fuck me."
"I never paid for that. I didn't pay for…What?"
"You had three whiskeys. That's my sign." Cas rubbed a hand over his face and tried to sort out his free-floating thoughts.
"Why am I in your bed?" he asked again. Dean let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Because you were supposed to sleep with me. Unfortunately, you were too drunk and I didn't want to take advantage of you."
"Wouldn't I have been taking advantage of you?" Cas rubbed his eyes again. Dean rolled his in response. The Omega threw the covers off his bed and padded over to the vanity to retrieve Cas's clothes.
"You were the one that was drunk, not me. Trust me, it was a struggle not to just have at you, the cologne you wear."
"I don't wear cologne."
"What?"
"I don't wear cologne," Cas repeated evenly.
"Hmm. Well regardless, I controlled my primal omega urges."
Cas shook his head and tried to get out of the bed. His vision swam, and he squinted into the light. Falling back into the bed, he asked, "Where are the rest of my clothes? What did you do with them?"
"They're over there. By the vanity." Sure enough, Cas's coat and shirt and suspenders and pants were carefully draped over the vanity chair. Dean stood and grabbed Cas's overcoat and tossed it too him. "It'll be a shame to see you put that all back on again," Dean's voice rose about four octaves and Cas winced. "Sorry," Dean whispered.
"If you don't mind m asking," Cas said slowly, "Why do you speak like that?"
"Customers like it," Dean grinned bashfully. Cas had to admit he was rather attractive looking up at him through his eyelashes like that. And his real voice wasn't too bad either, if Cas thought about it. It was deep and gruff, similar to his own voice, but with a small lilt to it. "I just forgot you're hung over, sorry."
"Do you like speaking like that?"
Dean shrugged his shoulders and hummed a little. "It's kinda weird sometimes, but it's not so bad. Did a number on my real voice though." He laughed to himself. Cas pinched the bridge of his nose as Dean settled back on the bed, holding the rest of his clothes.
"Did you undress me?" Cas accused.
"I wasn't gonna let you sleep in my bed covered in a dusty coat!" Dean exclaimed in his deep rumbling voice. Cas had to look away at the sound. He should not find that so attractive. He started putting on his shirt, and Dean let out a mournful sigh. "It's a shame you missed out last night," he drawled at the sheriff. Cas leaned away as Dean crept closer to him on the bed. Cas could smell the arousal leaking into the air.
"Uh, Dean?"
"Yes, sir?" Cas could feel the blood rushing to his head and his dick at the same time.
"Personal space?"
Dean ignored him, just getting closer and closer. "You know what they say about hangovers and sex, right?"
"Uh, no." Cas was crawling his way to the headboard of the bed now, on his back, and defenseless. Dean smirked softly and trickled over him.
"That the best way to cure a hangover is sex."
"I've never heard anyone say that," Cas said seriously. Dean froze in his place, and for a moment, Cas thought he was offended. But then the confusion broke way to a huge grin, and a lot of breathy laughter. Dean giggled into Cas's neck, and let his body rest along top of the other's. "Did I say something wrong?"
"I knew I liked you for a reason!" Dean nuzzled him and inhaled his scent. "You smell good and you're funny!"
"Uh, you'd be the first to think so," Cas responded, still confused at Dean's change in demeanor. He tried to shift out from underneath Dean.
"Oh, right." Dean ground his hips down on Cas's, and they both grunted at the pressure.
"Dean. Dean I-" he sighed again when the smell of arousal and excitement clouded his judgment.
"Yeah, you smell real good."
"Dean, no. Stop!" Cas had been trying not to compel the omega this whole time, but he saw no other option now. He used his last remaining shred of decency to push Dean off him as gently as he could. Dean landed butt on the bed with a soft "Omph!"
And that was when he finally got a good look at the tattoo on Dean's chest. A pentagram, surrounded by flames: an exact copy of Brady's. Cas tried to remain calm, but he felt panic pushing the arousal out of his mind.
"Dean, who the hell are you?"
A/N: Art for this chapter can be found on the corresponding chapter on AO3.
works /1830430 /chapters /3931558