I attribute my posting this new fic to two things: wine consumption and still being euphoric over Misha being a regular once more for season nine. To quote our sexy overlord, "Confetti...it's a parade!"

Warning: I am not going to have the pirates speak like Captain Jack Sparrow and his fellow sea drags. So please don't scold me for that.

Atlantic Ocean (Area between St. Martin & the British Virgin Islands) 1804

A group of six Atlantic bottlenose dolphins frolicked and jumped in the warm and azure waters of the Caribbean. The playful and good natured mammals are unaware of the violence occurring within the British merchant ship, the Impala.

Thomas Cruise a toothless deckhand with sun burned skin was in the middle of plunging his beloved silver dagger through an adolescent's stomach. The sixteen year old was part of L'Ange Bleu's crew. The Blue Angel was a French ship commandeered by Castiel Ulliel, a twenty seven year old, who was blood thirsty for revenge against the evil bastard responsible for robbing his noble family's fortune. The cretin also betrayed and turned them in to a mob of angry French peasants. The Ulliel family almost became extinct during the Revolution; only Castiel and his cousin, Anna remained as sole survivors.

Thomas relished seeing the crimson blood ooze from the dying boy's abdomen. The lawn shirt quickly changed from white to red in a short period of time. Castiel's electric blue eyes landed on the tragic scene. He was against the garcon partaking in the raid on The Impala but the child had been stubborn as a mule. Castiel moved silently and lethally behind the despicable British cochon. With the greatest of ease, he twisted the man's neck.

Castiel knelt on the wooden deck and placed the dying boy's head on his lap. His fellow crewmates continued fighting with the Impala's pirates. Gerard ceased breathing as his captain ran his elegant fingers through his long auburn hair. Castiel closed his fallen comrade's eyes and prayed silently for Gerard's soul to be at rest.

The French pirate captain rose to his height of 5'11 and swiftly surveyed the chaos around him. His men were rapidly overtaking the crew of the larger merchant vessel. A bucktoothed pirate appeared out of nowhere and swiped his rusty bone handled blade in front of Castiel's face. The Frenchman was quicker and stretched back. Castiel gave a roundhouse kick which distracted the rat faced bastard. The villain stumbled backwards. Castiel took advantage and threw his dagger at him. The weapon landed in the middle of the Brit's torso. The man didn't see it coming. He fell on his knees, cursed at Castiel and fell flat on his face; sinking the blade in deeper. Castiel turned the vermin around and yanked the blade out of him. He wiped the blood away with the blue sash that was wrapped across his hips.

Castiel fervently hoped his men would find what they came for. He was tired and was in desperate need of a bath. The blue eyed man turned and froze on the spot. He smirked. Castiel took long strides towards his two strongest crew members and closest allies: Michael Saint Laurent and Balthazar Roche. The duo had captured The Impala's captain.

The captain's forest green jacket was covered in crimson blood. The man was a ferocious wild beast as he defended his ship and crew members. It took four of Castiel's best men to subdue the captain. Balthazar reluctantly stabbed him on the right side of his abdomen in order for them to get their hands on him. The other three men surrounded the injured captain.

Castiel approached the fallen man, who was on his knees. The captain was turning ghastly pale in between labored breath. "Phoenix, we meet at last."

The captain spat on Castiel's old black Hessian boots. When his emerald eyes clashed angrily with Castiel's electric blue orbs, the Frenchman had never felt so much hatred directed his way. Castiel grinned triumphantly. The half Brit spoke, "That is Captain Phoenix to you, you whoreson!" Castiel pressed one of his leather boot's heel into the wounded man's wound. The captain winced. He continued glaring at his captor.

"You are my prisoner now and I shall refer to you as I wish!" Castiel exclaimed.

Michael and Balthazar helped the man rise. He was taller than Castiel by at least two inches. Castiel unwillingly took in the man's handsome features: short cropped dark gold hair, a rarity since many seamen grew their hair long, high cheekbones and full firm lips. Freckles adorned his bronzed face. Castiel's traitorous eyes travelled over his captive's broad shoulders and torso to his impressive cock which was delineated to perfection in brown buckskin trousers. The man had long and strong legs.

Castiel's gaze finally returned to the man's furious emerald eyes. His full, well-shaped lips were clamped together in a grimace, as he insolently returned his stare. "Take the Impala's crew to the brig. The ship will return to England." Castiel instructed two of the men, who helped in bringing the Phoenix down. "Michael and Balthazar, bind him in chains. I do not trust the infamous Phoenix." He tossed two pairs of rusty chains at his friends; one pair for the captain's wrists and the other for his ankles.

Dean Winchester better known as Phoenix tried kneeing the younger of the two men in his family jewels but the other French toady punched him in the jaw. Dean saw robins flying around his head. His jaw throbbed like crazy. As all of his men obeyed his commands, Castiel took a step closer to the chained captain. He felt disgusted at himself. His eyes ran over the man's well-endowed form once again. He could not afford to be attracted to the cretin.

"Take him to L'Ange Bleu and lock him in the quarters next to my cabin." He turned on his heel and left them, striding easily over one of the planks linking the two ships.

Several hours later, Castiel was in his cabin reviewing the Impala's cargo list. The British merchant ship had been carrying sugar and tobacco from the Virgin Islands to England. Everyone knew the Phoenix was King George's favorite mercenary and trader. Castiel was beyond ecstatic with the result of this particular raid. The Impala was a fine ship. Due to the siege being short lived, the vessel sustained minimal damage. Phoenix's face flashed through his mind. Castiel remembered why he had brought him to his ship.

With a wolfish smile he shrugged on a velvet navy blue coat and ran outside of his cabin. Michael stood sentry outside of the prisoner's cabin. "Do you want me to accompany you while you interrogate the prisoner?" Michael was Castiel's beloved friend and sometime lover. He'd saved Castiel and Anna, when their lives were enshrouded in darkness.

Castiel traced Michael's lower lip tenderly. "Merci but I want to do this on my own." He patted his faithful dagger that he always kept at his waist. Castiel didn't bother to knock. He turned the skeleton key which Michael had handed him.

As he walked in, Castiel paused. The captain was not looking better due to the stab wound. He was shirtless. Castiel's eyes swept over the man's tanned form. He started to feel hot all over. When his gaze landed on the large gash on the captain's abdomen, he blanched.

"You have been badly injured," he said in a thick French accent. Castiel opened the door and instructed Michael to fetch Anna, who was the ship's closest thing to a physician.

Once the two of them were alone, the injured man spoke in a hoarse voice. "You do not give a fuck if I live or die; so do not patronize me."

"I suppose you are wondering what your fate is to be," Castiel stated. Dean found his captor's French accent intoxicating. He attributed his insane response to his blood loss.

"I want to be with my crew," Dean responded in a quivering and weak voice. He winced in pain. Dean covered his wound with his right hand.

"Why would you want to join them in a dank, foul smelling and rat infested brig, while you are here in this comfortable cabin? Let us not forget that you are being kept company by me," Castiel said with a smirk.

"I would rather be used as shark bait," Dean hissed.

"Oh that can be arranged if you continue being a naughty boy," Castiel whispered. He approached the bound man and trailed his fingers over the Phoenix's muscular right bicep. It had a tattoo of a condor on it. "It would be a terrible waste to make you a lucky shark's dinner." Castiel startled himself as his callused hands wandered down the man's toned and golden chest.

"Do not touch me!" the Phoenix screamed at him.

Castiel continued caressing his bare chiseled chest. He noticed a spark in the depths of dislike for him. "Phoenix, you seem to forget that you are my prisoner and I do as I please here." Adding his other hand, he flattened his palms against the captain's scorching and sweating skin. He slid them up his shoulders and then slowly moved them back down. The Phoenix struggled against him.

Castiel's hands traced his torso until they landed on his impressive member. He heard Winchester suck in a shaky breath and smiled to himself. Castiel covered the shackled man's body. He made sure not to place pressure to his wound. The French pirate felt Phoenix's heart pounding.

Dean gritted his teeth. "I have heard tales of your orgies in which both sexes partake of. I do not swing that way, you whoreson! I duck my quill solely into sweet wenches' honey pots."

Castiel had heard rumors about the Winchester's randy ways. There wasn't any vagina he wouldn't plow. It gratified him to rattle the man. Castiel grabbed Dean's balls harshly. "Your father, the Duke of Winchester will pay a lofty ransom for the safe return of his only heir."

He reached a hand to the back of Dean's neck and pulled his head to meet his. He pressed his lips against Dean's. Castiel licked the Phoenix's lower full lip. Dean took him by surprise and sunk his teeth viciously into his lower lip. He bit so hard, blood trailed down. Castiel managed to pull his head away. Dean pushed his form from his. The Frenchman inwardly grinned. The Phoenix sported an erection. Dean had a funny way of proving he was a womanizer and was not into men.

Castiel never imagined he would enjoy toying with his sworn enemy's son. If the duke did not meet with him at Montpellier within a week and bring him the thousand gold coins he had asked for, his handsome son will die. The dastardly duke will finally know how it feels to lose a loved one.

Translations:

garcon-boy/young man

cochon-pig

merci-thank you