Chapter 1 - Trapped
Dark.
Trapped.
Move. No, can't move.
Try to...no, trapped.
Why is it so dark? Oh right. Eyes closed. Fix that.
His eyes fluttered open, the piercing blue a shock against the pale, blood-stained skin.
"You're awake!" came the rough, Cockney voice from somewhere to his left. He tried to turn his head, but he seemed to be strapped down and he couldn't move.
"Nice of you to join us, darling," Crowley said as he walked into view, with a grin gleaming to match the evil allure of the artfully crafted knife in his hand. "You know, torture is no fun when I can't hear you scream. Well, less fun, anyway."
Right. Crowley. Tied down. Torture. Explains the pain. But how did I...
Oh.
Right.
Crowley was suddenly right in his face, his breath reeking of scotch and sulfur, knife delicately tracing the angel's jawline. "Now, where were we? Ah yes. Teaching you what happens when you cross the King of Hell."
It was all Castiel could do not to cry out as the knife sliced slowly, smoothly, almost lovingly through the skin and muscle of his shoulder.
"Come now, love, don't hold back for my sake," growled Crowley in his ear. Once he'd carefully buried the knife in the body in front of him, he suddenly gave it a sharp twist, and the angel let out a yelp like a kicked puppy. "There we are," the demon answered, sounding like he was enjoying this entirely too much. He stepped back, leaving the blade embedded in the flesh of his victim's vessel. He walked to his table of tools, picking through them to find a new one. "You had me worried there, for a minute, angelcakes. I thought you were done for before we'd even gotten started. But I should have known, your kind are more...resilient than that, eh?"
He held up a long, shining blade that looked frighteningly familiar. Castiel's eyes widened in terror at the sight of it. Crowley let out a chuckle. "This? Oh, don't worry, I won't be using this just yet. Archangels' blades are no good for torture. It's over too quickly." He tossed the sword aside and chose a smaller blade, one carved with what could only be Enochian. "No, we're gonna make this last. We're gonna be the best of friends...again. Right?" He slid the blade just under the skin of Castiel's forearm, where it sizzled and scorched. "Partner?" He grinned at the whimpering form as he drew the Enochian blade back.
"You..." Castiel struggled to speak.
Crowley put on his best face of mock surprise. "He speaks! A miracle!"
For a moment, Castiel seemed to regain his composure,changing his mask of terror and agony into one of anger and hatred. "Do what you want," the angel practically spat, forcing himself to be strong for a moment, blocking out the pain. "You won't gain anything from torturing me."
Crowley grinned. "Oh, but you see, I always gain something from your suffering."
Castiel glared at him in defiance before closing his eyes and trying desperately to black out again.
Crowley sat back in his chair, glass of Craig in hand. The TV was on in front of him, but he wasn't paying it much mind. Some documentary about Hitler again. He had been one of Crowley's favorite purchases, but there was no pleasure for him in reliving the glory days. Now, he was mulling over more present and pressing matters.
He had the angel still chained up in his basement. Well, sort of his basement. He called it his basement, anyway, though it was technically nowhere near his house. Well, his vessel's house.
Anyway.
He'd had fun the last few days, torturing the life out of his former business partner. That was all it had been, anyway. A business venture. There was nothing more to it than that. A business venture that went south when a certain fine feathered pain in the arse decided he was too good to keep his promises, too good to work with a demon, even an honest one.
Revenge. Revenge. He smiled as he thought about it. The word was somehow...delicious. The concept, tantalizing. And in this case, it was wholly deserved, after what that angel had done to him. Ah well, old boy, he thought to himself. This is what you get for letting yourself go soft.
Crowley was very good at revenge, and he was very good at torture. He was quite well-practiced in both, but this case was different. This one was personal, and he hadn't dealt with personal in a very long time. He made a point of not letting anyone get close enough to him to make it personal. But this one...he stopped himself. No, he wouldn't let himself continue that particular train of thought. Back to thinking about what more he was going to do to his new favorite victim. He could keep marring that pretty-boy vessel. Simple, effective...but somewhat inelegant, and the uncooperative sod would only heal himself as soon as he got loose from the Enochian bonds keeping his Grace tied up. Besides, he'd grown sort of fond of that face, even if he'd come to loathe the creature behind it.
Ah. Now, there was an idea.
There was an idea that would scar that creature forever. It would twist the Grace within and burn those pure white wings to black. And hey, he might even get to see that pretty face blush. He just had to get inside the angel's head. That would be the trick, but he was fairly sure he could manage it.
"Lucy, I'm home!" Crowley said, with his usual twisted cheer as he swept back into the room. Castiel just stared. Poor sod probably doesn't even get the reference, the demon thought. He walked right up to his trussed-up angel and said into his now almost uncomfortably close face, "Remind me to show you some good television sometime, love. I mean, while I have you as a...captive audience, shall we say?" He smiled at his own pun as he started to undo the bonds.
Castiel looked at him warily. Why was he being released? It couldn't be good.
"Oh, don't look so upset. We're done with the bondage, alright?" Crowley grinned. "At least, for the moment." He snapped his fingers and most of the Enochian symbols disappeared from the walls. There were only a few left, meaning the angel's powers were restored...mostly.
Castiel was still eying him with caution and fear.
"Oh come on, love, heal yourself. Can't have you keeling over on me, can I?"
The angel seemed to weigh his options for a moment, before deciding that if he was going to remain trapped here, he should at least be at full strength, and he couldn't see how healing himself could be to his disadvantage.
Crowley blinked his eyes, and the bloodied and half-destroyed form before him was replaced by one that was not only intact, but quite nearly resplendent. "There we go. All better." With that, he threw back his head and opened his mouth to let out a torrent of smoke the color of pure darkness, if darkness could bleed. Before Castiel even knew what was happening, the smoke was forcing its way down his throat, and his very being began to writhe in horror and pain.
Once all the smoke was gone, the torture chamber was completely silent for the first time in days. The angel's vessel, forced to its knees by the sudden attack, stood up and smiled calmly, its eyes flashing red ever so briefly.