As always, if you like my work please favorite and/or review. This will be a multi-chapter fic, but I'm not sure how long yet.

Warnings: Character death. Also Dean is 16 in this, so underage. This will become yaoi later, so if you don't like that, don't read.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters!

Chapter 1

When Castiel woke up that morning he had expected it to be a normal day. Of course, being a homicide detective, a "normal" day for him meant possibly solving a crime or seeing a few bodies. It didn't really affect him that much anymore. The nightmares he'd had at first had faded after his first year of work and now that he'd been working here, in Kansas, for nine years he experienced perhaps one work related nightmare every three or four months.

He showered quickly before attempting to comb his slightly long, black hair into some sort of order. He knew it wouldn't stay that way for long anyways. Giving up on the hair, he took a moment to study his face in the mirror. Bright blue eyes looked back at him with slightly dark circles under them and there was a bit of stubble on his chin and jaw, but he didn't feel like shaving this morning so he left the bathroom to dress. He was waiting for his bagel to come out of the toaster when he got a phone call. The bagel popped up as he hung up the phone and he threw it into a napkin as he rushed to grab his black trench coat and leave.

His boss had just informed him that they had received a reliable tip on the location of a serial killer that Castiel had been chasing for nearly four years now. His name was Crowley and his crimes ranged from fraud to burglary and beyond. The murders that man had committed were numerous and terrible. The victims he let live had revealed to police that the man liked to call them his "toys" and he would "play" with them until he lost interest or they died. A few of his crime scenes had graced Castiel's nightmares over the years and he couldn't wait to lock the man up. He barely tasted his bagel as he rushed to the station. So much for a normal day.

Dean Winchester was not a coward. Regardless of the fact that he had only been 14 when he and Sam were kidnapped by Crowley, Dean had always been fearless and cocky. However, his fearlessness had been stripped away the day that Crowley had discovered his weakness...Sam. It had taken the serial killer a few tries to finally break Dean. Making the boy watch as he had tortured the younger of the brothers had only angered Dean and made him even less compliant than before. The same effect happened when Dean could not see, but only hear the torture. He had only truly broken down when he could neither see nor hear his younger brother at all.

Dean didn't seem to care what happened to him as long as Sam was safe so Crowley had decided to turn it into a game. Torturing Dean had been fun for a while, but the boy's lack of what he called "enthusiasm" had bored him so Crowley decided to make Dean torture others. He accomplished this by promising Dean that if he didn't inflict whatever torture he was ordered to preform then Crowley would preform it...on Sam.

Dean had only refused once, at which time Crowley made him watch as he worked on Sam. From then on Dean did whatever he was told to do to whomever he was told to do it to. Crowley's favorite part was watching Dean's face as he worked. The boy hated himself for doing those horrible things almost as much as he hated Crowley himself. After two years of living like this with the serial killer Dean had lost any hope of ever being rescued. His hopes of escaping had died much quicker as he was kept in a concrete cell with an iron bar door, and one very small iron bar window at the back, when he wasn't in one of the three "procedure" rooms. Crowley had subordinates who would escort him whenever he left his cell so Dean was never alone when he wasn't locked up.

Despite two years of this, the now 16 year old was still very strong. When he had hit puberty last year he had filled out and his strength was now visible in the muscles of his arms and broad shoulders and Crowley noticed as he watched him work. The slightly stocky, balding, British, serial killer couldn't decide if he was jealous or just angry. He couldn't stand the way his men looked at Dean. The boy was his toy and his alone!

When Dean finished a particularly grueling day of torture, that had ended in another dead body, Crowley instructed his men to lead Dean to the killer's private chambers instead of back to the cell. The men did as they were told, but Crowley caught the look in their eyes. They knew what was about to happen to the young man, but they said nothing. Dean knew better than to ask questions so he allowed himself to be led into Crowley's chambers and strapped to a smaller wooden table. Once his wrists and ankles were bound the men left the room and Crowley entered, closing and locking the door behind him.

"You're starting to bore me Dean," he started as he removed his usual suit jacket and started rolling up his sleeves. "How do you propose we fix that?"

Dean stayed silent, unsure if the question was rhetorical. As Crowley walked up to the table he was on he began to feel nervous. The serial killer hadn't physically tortured him in nearly a year and a half, but he clearly remembered the pain. Crowley proceeded to cut off Dean's ratty old t-shirt and scrub pants, leaving him only in his boxers. Dean clenched his jaw and focused on trying not to shake.

The serial killer sucked in a breath as he looked at the boy's nearly naked form. He was muscular and numerous scars marred his entire body, a fact that made Crowley proud as he was the one to inflict them. The man licked his lips as he decided what to do with the young man.

"I've got a few ideas," he answered his own question. "Be a good boy and try not to wiggle or scream to much now." Dean closed his eyes.

As Castiel arrived outside of the warehouse with the swat team two thoughts struck him at once. First, how had he not noticed this place sooner? Second, how had no one else ever noticed or said anything about the smell? Perhaps to the ignorant mind this smell could be excused as sewage or perhaps a by product of animal processing, but to Castiel the smell was unmistakable...rotting human flesh. He shuddered involuntarily as he moved into position with the rest of the team.

Their plan was to do this as silently as possible. Crowley was known to be a slippery little weasel and Castiel didn't want to take any chances of losing him. Every member of the team had silencers on their weapons and they were instructed to capture if they could, but kill if there was any chance of a guard raising an alarm. A lock pick let them into the building.

The scenes they encountered in the building were worse than anything Castiel had seen so far. Crowley was clearly very comfortable in this building as it was much less neat than any of his other crime scenes, like he didn't care as much about cleaning up after his so call "play times" here. The inside smelled worse than the outside had and many of the men quickly pulled on their gas masks in an attempt to block some of the stench.

There had only been a couple of people still alive in what appeared to be the holding area and they were quickly rushed outside to the medical team. There were a lot of bodies, however. A few of them appeared to be emaciated as though they had been there a long time without food before being killed, but most of them appeared to have met their deaths in relatively good health and Castiel suspected that new victims were brought in often.

The only body that seemed irregular to Crowley's style was that of a young boy. The body was hidden in a long wooden box in the back of a room that appeared to be used for torture. It was old, perhaps stored like this for at least a year, but it was well preserved. He was very young, perhaps even preteen, and he had slightly long, blonde hair. Bruising around his neck indicated that he had either been strangled or hanged. There was a note in the boys front pocket. It was wrinkled and slightly faded with age, but still legible. Castiel took a moment to read it before following the swat team.

Dean, if you ever find this letter I just want you to understand one thing. I took my own life. There was nothing else I could do to help you and I knew Crowley was using me to force you to do bad things. Now that I'm dead, you're free. Get out as soon as you see a chance. Love, Sam.

Castiel shook his head, but left the letter with the body for the evidence crew to handle later. Something about those names was ringing a bell for him, but he couldn't think about it right now. They were so close to catching Crowley and he wasn't going to let the serial killer get away. After they had cleared all of the open rooms they moved to a final door at the end of a long corridor. This door was locked and once again a lock pick opened it.

When Castiel followed the two swat team members into the room he did not expect the scene he saw. Crowley was standing on the opposite side of a table from the door and had seen them come in, but he did not look up from the boy that was currently strapped down before him. His left hand was cupping the boy's crotch and with his right hand he was making small cuts to the boys forearms, chest and abs.

"Hello boys," he spoke without looking up.

"Drop the knife and move away from the boy," the leader of the swat team spoke authoritatively.

"Aw hell. I wasn't ready to lose my favorite toy just yet," Crowley responded as he squeezed gently with his left hand.

The boy made no sound and Castiel feared he may be dead, judging by the lack of response and the amount of blood he could see. The swat team already had their weapons pointed at Crowley, but when he made no move to comply they all turned on their red dots. The serial killer glanced down at his chest and then crossed his eyes momentarily to observe the dots on his chest and forehead and raised his hands slowly. He tossed the knife over the table and onto the floor.

"Okay, okay. Let's be civil about this," he smiled in a way that made Castiel's blood run cold. He moved forward and slapped cuffs on the mans wrists, trying to ignore the warmth of the blood on his hands and wrists.

After reading the man his rights he allowed the swat team to lead Crowley out and to a transport vehicle. He wasn't going anywhere now and Castiel wanted to check on this boy. When he walked up to the table he looked at the boy's face. The kid was dirty and covered in a lot of blood, not all of which appeared to be his. Crowley must have been working on this boy for a while as the blackness of a bruise was already setting in around his left eye.

Castiel reached forward and pressed his fingers to the boy's neck to check for a pulse, but just as his fingers touched the skin the boy's eyes sprung open and he looked up at Castiel fearfully. The detective withdrew his hand and began undoing the straps that bound the boy to the table.

"You're going to be okay now. We arrested Crowley and we're taking you to safety."

"Did you get Sam out?" The boy's voice was husky with unshed tears and for the first time it registered in Castiel's mind that the boy had not been crying or screaming at all while Crowley was working on him. His next thought had him remembering why the names on that letter had rung a few bells.

"You must be Dean...Winchester right?" Castiel asked as the boy continued to lay on the table even though all of his bonds were removed. Dean only nodded in response. The detective had known those names from a newspaper article he had read a couple years ago. The boys had been kidnapped from a home in South Dakota. Their father had not reported the kidnapping until several days after the fact and then only at the insistence of a close friend that they all had been staying with. The father had told police that he believed the boys had just gone out for a while as they sometimes did and that he wasn't worried.

For the first time in a long time Castiel found that he did not know how to answer Dean's question about Sam. He feared that whether he answered the question honestly or not, the boy may become belligerent. The silence hung between them for a few moments before Dean spoke.

"You'll be taking Sam out later then..." Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes for another moment. "What's your name?" he asked suddenly, eyes still closed.

"Castiel," the detective replied. The boy clearly understood the silence and knew that his brother was dead. He would have suggested that Dean sit up or get off of this table, but he didn't know how much blood the boy had lost or how hurt he might be so he was just waiting for the medical team to come down to them.

"Like the angel," Dean's voice was a whisper now and he sat up very slowly as the tears finally started to fall. He reached out and gripped Castiel's sleeve with his left hand and sobbed silently into his right. The detective knew that handling trauma victims was delicate work and with his slight social ineptitude he knew this was out of his ballpark, so he stood silently and let the boy clutch his sleeve. The medical team came in and approached them slowly. The two EMTs looked at Dean and then up at Castiel who nodded.

"Dean, the EMTs are here to fix you up now. Is it okay if they touch you?" Dean quickly looked up at them, his sobs having died down to slow tears, and then gripped Castiel's sleeve tighter.

"Please don't leave me, Cas," Dean pleaded.

Crap, Castiel had forgotten that trauma victims like this often imprinted on the first person to show them kindness. He was definitely in over his head here, but it was to late to turn back now. He offered a small, gentle smile to the boy before him and nodded.

"I'll be right here Dean." He didn't even mind his new nickname.

Dean had released Castiel's sleeve long enough to get off of the table and onto the gurney that the EMTs had brought with them. Once he was laying down again he frantically reached out for the man and Cas had quickly taken his hand. Dean then nodded to the EMTs and let them begin trying to stop some of the bleeding so that they could move him to the ambulance. He flinched when they began to touch him and closed his eyes. Anyone else would have assumed he was in physical pain, but Castiel could tell the pain was more mental than it was physical.

The ride to the hospital in the ambulance consisted of the EMTs continuing to wipe away the blood and take Dean's vitals. They spoke to each other, but Dean and Castiel remained silent, the boy never letting go of his hand. This continued at the hospital, others talking around them, but they were silent. Cas did have to speak to the doctors and explain the situation, but luckily they already knew most of it as the other victims had arrived a little bit earlier than they had. The doctors finished cleaning Dean up before inserting an IV and immediately giving him a sedative. The boy was asleep soon after and a couple of doctors sat down to begin stitching his numerous cuts.

"Detective Novak," the doctor assigned to Dean's case greeted Castiel in the hallway in front of Dean's room. They shook hands and Castiel glanced back into the room.

"So what's the plan?" Castiel asked. "How will he be treated?"

"All of his injuries were external. They have been cleaned and will be bandaged after the stitching is completed. We'll keep a close eye on them to make sure there's no infection and we are already administering an antibiotic. Once he wakes in the morning we'll have someone from psych come to speak with him to assess his mental state. Would you like us to keep you updated on his progress?"

"I won't be leaving for now," Castiel sighed. "He already imprinted on me not long after I rescued him in that building."

"Oh dear. Our psychiatrist, Jessica, is going to love hearing that," the doctor responded sarcastically. "Should I have a cot set up for you in his room then?"

Cas nodded and the doctor left to make it happen. Once Dean was bandaged and the staff had all cleared out of the room Castiel walked back in and stood beside the bed for a moment. Now that the boy was clean the detective could make out more details and he found himself studying Dean's face for a moment. The doctors had been able to get Dean's medical records and he now knew that the boy was 16. His brown hair was so light it could almost be considered blonde in a certain light. There was a very light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and on his cheekbones. The lower portion of his face was covered in what appeared to be a couple days growth of stubble.

Castiel sighed once more before moving to his cot which was against the wall to the right of Dean. He found himself saddened by the fact that this boy would most likely never attend a normal high school. Dean would have been a heart-breaker with the ladies. Cas had retrieved the necessary paperwork for the arrest from a coworker a little earlier and he took a moment now to fill it out. Someone from the station would come by in the morning to pick it up. Once he finished he felt the weariness of the day come crashing down on him and he lay down to sleep.

The detective woke around 6AM the next morning. He sat up slowly and stretched. The cot was terribly uncomfortable and Cas thought that if he would be staying here for a while he would have to bring a decent sleeping bag or some sort of cushion for it. Glancing at the bed he noticed that Dean was still asleep. Hopefully the sedation and medications he was given would allow the boy to rest peacefully for the first time in what must be nearly two years. Not wanting to disturb the boy, Cas decided to go down to the cafeteria and get some breakfast and coffee.

When he returned from breakfast, nursing his third cup of coffee, Dean was starting to wake up. He had been heavily sedated the night before so the doctors had told Cas that it was unlikely for the boy to wake up before 7am. Dean's eyes flicked nervously around the room before locking with Castiel's. The detective was momentarily speechless, the sharp green eyes boring into his own, but quickly shook his head and smiled kindly at the boy.

"Good morning. How are you feeling Dean?" He made no move to get any closer to the bed. The last thing he wanted to do was spook him this early in the morning.

"Um..." Dean's throat felt scratchy and he coughed as he tried to clear it. "Thirsty," he finally responded and Cas walked over to the small table near the end of Dean's bed where there was a pink pitcher filled with water and a small, matching pink cup. He filled the cup about three quarters of the way and then passed it over to the boy who grabbed it in such a manner that his hand did not touch Cas's, and then drained it quickly.

"Better?" Cas asked as he set the pitcher back onto the small table.

"Better. Thank you," Dean answered. His eyes then darted to the door behind Castiel and his face took on a look of guarded caution. Cas followed his gaze and noticed a woman walking into the room. He moved to stand just to Dean's right and said nothing.

"Hello Dean, my name is Jessica. How are you feeling this morning?"

She introduced herself and smiled kindly at Dean, completely ignoring Castiel. Cas realized that this must be the psychologist that was mentioned last night. When Dean didn't respond she took a few steps closer to the bed and observed as Dean immediately reached his hand out and grasped the sleeve of the detective as if to comfort himself with the touch. Cas took this opportunity to introduce himself.

"Good morning doctor. My name is Castiel Novak. I'm the detective that found Dean during an arrest. I would like to help him so if there is anything I can do please let me know."

"Very well. Would it be alright if I have a word with you in the hallway please?"

She offered another kind smile to Dean, but Cas could feel the annoyance she felt toward their current situation and was again reminded of the conversation about her last night. Dean slowly released his grip on Cas's sleeve as the doctor moved further away from him and Cas smiled at Dean before following the doctor into the hall. She closed the door to Dean's room behind them and then glared at Castiel.

"Why on earth is that boy bonded to you? Don't they teach detectives anything about properly handling trauma victims?! That boy should be building that extremely important connection with me, a highly trained professional, not you!" She wasn't shouting at him, but even in her quiet tone, Cas could sense her anger. Finally she sighed. "Well, there's nothing that we can do about it now. I just hope you realize what you've gotten yourself into. It will take a long time for this boy to heal and until that happens he's with you. I suggest you just do your best to help me do my job sir."

"Like I said, I want to help him. Just tell me what to do," Castiel responded calmly.

Two hours later Jessica left Dean's room feeling just as frustrated as she had been when she had arrived. Dean had refused to speak to her unless Castiel had assured him it was okay and when he did agree to speak to her it was only with her sitting as close to the door as she possibly could be with it closed so that she was no where near the boy. This was not how she liked to build relationships with her patients at all. It was going to take a long time to get through to this boy. The first step was always to get them to talk about what had happened to them, but Dean had clammed up immediately when she had asked. The only thing he seemed okay with discussing for now was what had been happening to him at the moment when Castiel had found him with Crowley.

During this time the doctors had come in to change his bandages and Jessica and Castiel had, for the first time, seen the full extent of the damage that had been inflicted on the boy that day. Dean had continued to speak and had pointed out one wound in particular. It was on the left side of his chest just beneath his collar bone and Cas remembered that it was the cut that Crowley had been working on when he found them. It was in the shape of a "C" and Dean had explained that the serial killer had wanted to mark him so that everyone would know who he belonged to. Apparently the man had planned to write his full name, but was thankfully interrupted before he had gotten that far.

Dean had been given another dose of pain medication after the doctors re-bandaged him so he had wanted to sleep. Jessica had nodded and left the room, promising to come back the next day. Castiel decided to run home quickly to shower and change clothes. He also wanted to grab his laptop so that he could get some work done while he stayed at the hospital. When he returned Dean was still asleep so he took a seat on his cot and began sorting through some files on his laptop.

"No," Dean mumbled and Cas immediately realized the boy was sleep talking. "Please...I'm sorry." A short cry followed, startling Castiel. When he looked up he noticed tears falling down Dean's face.