The Butterfly Motel had to be the most revolting, disgusting place in all of existence, probably. Even from a block away, one could the stench of trash and drugs and booze, alongside with many other unpleasant things. The walls were a crumbling mess of plaster; you could hop on the bed and out would spill a nest of roaches onto the dank, stained carpet that reeked of piss. The restroom's were never cleaned; nor were the bedsheets ever changed. You could walk into your designated room and there could be a homeless person deep in a drunk sleep on the middle of the floor. No one dared to even go near it.

That's what made it a perfect place for hookers and their clienteles.

Only, Castiel wasn't a hooker. But damn if he didn't feel like one. He gripped the sink desperately, not even daring to look at himself in the grimy, broken mirror. He was scum. Horrible, terrible scum. Head throbbing, Castiel turned the faucet on (he didn't even stop to display disgust at the cockroach that popped out; he had already seen too much tonight to be disgusted by that) before vomiting harshly into the dingy sink. Tears began to blur his vision.

"Hush now, love," purred the voice into his ear. "You wouldn't want to attract any unwanted attention, would you? If the cops came by, what do you think they would do...You want that-"

"-job now, don't you?" Castiel finished the memory aloud, breath shaky and uneven. Vomit rose again, and Good fucking god I think I'm going to Hell for this. No. Not thought; he knew. He knew he was going to be tortured for this, this thing that he had brought upon himself and sweet Jesus Michael was going to be so disappointed and Dad would disown him and...

The tears had started up again, Castiel crumpled down into a pile, feeling even dirtier than the floor itself.

Meanwhile, Officer Dean Winchester was having a rather great night. His girlfriend had accepted his marriage proposal; they were set to be married next June. On top of that, his younger brother had just gotten into his dream college. Even better than all that? Their mother had just beaten cancer. Yes, tonight was perfect. Dean had decided to celebrate: by arresting hookers.

Now, Dean himself had enjoyed the occasional hooker or two in his time, but he was a cop now; had been for two years! Prostitution was one of the terrors that ran rampant here, so why not? However, he couldn't help but feel a little silly at the prospect of sitting outside the Butterfly Motel. The place was gross, even with the windows rolled up the stench of sex and booze still burned at his nose.

His phone buzzed suddenly in his pocket. Just he reached for it, one of the doors on the second floor opened, and out stepped what he guessed was a leaving client. The phone forgotten, Dean stared down the door, waiting for the prostitute to come waltzing out into the law's hands. She didn't. She was probably one of those classy ladies who liked to "fix" themselves before going out for another spin, Dean guessed. Whatever, it didn't matter. Dean went in for the kill anyway.

Upstairs Castiel was still busy wallowing in torment.

This place had an awful stench radiating from it; Castiel had almost turned away from it and went home. But the hand had grabbed his arm roughly, and with a wicked grin, said, "And where do you think you're going?" The tone was venomous, and his blood ran cold from it. Now both hands were pulling him, more gently, towards the motel. The voice cooed, "Do good now, and you'll get the job..." Castiel only crossed himself in reply as they entered the decomposing room.

Suddenly a crash from the front of the room stirred him from his thoughts and for a minute, Castiel thought his new boss had come back for more. But no, instead there was now a police officer looming over him. He shrank from the sight.

"Yes?" he said meekly. The officer frowned; Castiel felt like he wasn't what the officer had expected at all.

"You sure as hell aren't what I expected," grunted the officer. Castiel almost nodded in agreement. The police officer grunted again. "Doesn't matter. A whore is a whore; get to your feet," he ordered. He forced him onto his feet, and Castiel got a good look at him: tall and well-toned muscles, with dark green eyes that glared at him darkly. Suddenly he realized that officer's gaze had changed directions, to the powder filled bag on the floor, and his stomach twisted in disgust. More words swam inside his head...

"Here." It tossed a bag on Castiel's achy, un-moving form. He lockedcurious eyes with It, who smirked. "Start off with that; you'll need start gettin used to 'em." After he had slammed the door shut, Castiel rolled over and opened the bag. Only then had he realized what he had been given. Good god...

When he came back from his mind, the policeman was staring him down icily. "Are you...? God, I can't go to jail, I..." He shook his head and grabbed desperately at the policeman's shirt. "No...Please...I just..." Castiel struggled for words. Suddenly he was shoving this man up against the wall, unbuttoning his shirt and obscene promises spilling from his mouth to the law enforcer. The police officer seemed frozen from shock, and when he had regained his senses, Castiel had already taken up half of the man's cock in his throat.

For the second time that night, Castiel realized how disgusting he truly was.

hahahaha oh wow this is awful also i got the idea from a P!atD song btw

it could be worse but mmmmmnnnmnmn oh well ill fix some of it tomorrow maybe

reviews? c: