A/N: Here's chapter three, as promised! Tomorrow might be the last update for this story for awhile. I've got some writer's block with it, and I'll be talking with a friend about some uh, interesting ideas for it.
Though Jack knew struggling was useless, he tried again. Maybe with enough force against the restraints they would break.
A voice told him, someone who wasn't Cael or Nathaniel, "That won't work, Nephilim. Your shackles were forged with the same wardings placed on your father's cage."
Cage? No one had mentioned a cage to him before, but he did know that Lucifer had somehow been cast out of Heaven and locked up. They'd put him in a cage? Weren't cages for animals? He knew Lucifer was evil, but putting him in something like that didn't seem right. It didn't seem right to put anyone in a cage.
But if the wardings placed on it had been able to hold Lucifer then he knew he most likely wouldn't get anywhere with trying to break out. He was powerful, but he didn't understand his powers just yet.
Maybe he could use them to fight the angels, keep them away from him.
Though he already couldn't see, he closed his eyes, and tried to focus. It was difficult with his pulse quickening from what he recognized as fear. He tried to ignore that, tried to find something to focus on. He went to the bunker in his head, of his own volition this time, which felt good.
He was in the library with his family. He imagined the smell of the old books, which Sam had excitedly told him once was similar to the scents of vanilla and almonds and was due to the chemical breakdown of the pages. Jack had worried at first that the books would fall apart if he touched them, but Sam had showed him that with some of them you just had to be gentle. He imagined that he could feel the solidity of the chair, the floor, the table, that Sam, Dean, and Castiel were all at the table with him, and he could hear them laughing. It was a sound he hadn't really heard from any of them, but he came up with what it might sound like. Dean's laugh would be deep and hearty, the sound leaving him with his mouth wide open as he tossed his head back, not a care in the world keeping it in at that moment. Sam's laugh would be bubbly, maybe a bit high-pitched, and Jack pictured him leaning over the table a bit, his head down, as the wonderful sound left him. Castiel's laugh would be quiet, something breathy and low, but no less happy, his smile showing his mirth.
For now, he was able to ignore the fact that what he came up with wasn't real, and he focused on it, taking deep breaths, even when it felt like his throat was constricting.
He searched for his powers, which he didn't always realize were there. The energy wasn't hidden away deep inside him. It was him, part of him. Maybe half of him, maybe all of him. He pictured it as a golden light residing in all of him. And as he pictured it, he felt it as a warmth in his body. Jack envisioned it moving outwards, towards the shackles holding him. It did nothing except let him feel the microscopic bumps and dips in the metal, feel the warding in it that existed on an even smaller level than that. It seemed to appear in his mind, the symbols bright and sharp, and an ache formed behind his eyes. Jack kept trying to push his powers outwards, but they wouldn't go further than that. Sweat beaded on his forehead from his efforts.
The shackles began feeling hot, and he stopped, gasping in air. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath.
He tensed when a hand started gently running through his hair, and he didn't know why they were doing that to him. People hadn't really touched him before. He'd seen characters in movies touch each other's hair, had read it in some books, but no one had ever really done it to him before. What did it mean? He'd seen it in different contexts and knew it was meant to be a friendly gesture of sorts. But he wasn't friends with any of these angels. Was it bad then that one of them was touching his hair?
Did he know that hand? Was it familiar to a hand he'd seen? Could it possibly be Nathaniel? Or was his mind just coming up with that because he couldn't see who he was with?
"Don't strain yourself. We already told you it's useless."
Nathaniel.
One of the hands in his hair went down to his chest, resting above his collarbone and he thought of the cover of the romance book he'd seen a week ago. But he didn't like any of these angels romantically. He wasn't even sure what romance felt like. He just knew that he didn't like the angels at all. In fact, he hated them, and now that he knew they were bad guys, he feared them as well. Jack didn't want those hands on him that he was pretty sure were Nathaniel's.
He tried pulling away, which just made him sink down into the bed a little, yet the hand stayed.
Another hand was on him, a more delicate hand, and based on the people he'd seen, he knew it was feminine. The fingers lightly ran along his chest in circles, and his skin tingled. Jack tried pulling away again, but then big hands were on his shoulders, running along the length of his arms and back up again. Nathaniel's hand trailed up his neck, his thumb stroking his throat, and it drew to mind an image of Grima Wormtongue doing a similar thing to Eowyn in The Two Towers. She hadn't liked it, and Jack didn't like it. He caressed his face, and that female angel's hand kept drawing the circles tighter and tighter and he knew she was getting closer to his nipple.
What was the point of all this? What did they want from him? How could he help them if he was restrained like this?
"I thought you wanted my help," he told them, not understanding why it was more difficult to make his voice leave him. And why did his voice sound a tad lower? Was there something wrong with him?
"You'll be helping very shortly," a woman told him, the same one who had told him about the wardings a minute and fifty seven seconds ago.
"Then what is this?" he asked. He gasped when the woman touching his chest got to his nipple and it felt… good. He thought maybe it felt good. He didn't know. It was a new feeling. She pinched it with her fingers as Nathaniel and the other angel still felt him over. "Are you preparing me for something?"
"Yes," another woman answered, her voice higher and maybe more pleasant to listen to than the other's.
A woman, maybe the same one who had just spoken placed her hands on his calves, and he jerked from the unexpected touch.
Jack felt trapped, confused, angry.
He didn't want them to touch him. It was beginning to feel threatening, like they might start hurting him at any second.
He let out a shout, and he felt energy burst from him. Without knowing where the bad guys were he simply directed the energy outwards, knowing it would hurt them. He wanted to hurt them. They deserved it.
The energy never left him.
It turned inwards.
Crushing heat was searing his insides, force and pressure placing itself upon every part of him down to his bones. It ripped him apart, and his shackles were white hot against his skin.
The pain was so great he no longer understood what was happening. The hands on him were gentle, yet still stifling, but they were nothing compared to how much he hurt. It grew and grew till he was crying, wishing he didn't exist. He had to fight whoever was doing this to him. He had to. But he couldn't fight. The more he fought, the more he hurt.
His body was convulsing, he couldn't breathe. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong.
He heard yelling over his own screams and sobs, the voices becoming louder till they were screeching and cutting inside his head. The torment in his body stopped, yet the pain from the angelic voices remained.
It died down, and through his haze he realized hands were still on him, and he heard Cael say, "He didn't damage himself, did he?"
A hand pressed against his forehead, and were Jack not so exhausted, he would have thrashed, growling at that touch.
He felt something, like eyes were roaming over him, except the feeling was inside.
"Only his wrists and ankles are hurt," Nathaniel reported. "He burned them."
There was a sharp slap to his face, and he cried out, though it hurt far less than what he had experienced before.
"I told you not to use your powers!" Nathaniel hissed. "What if you hurt yourself?"
Now understanding what had happened, heat flooded Jack's cheeks, and the one that Nathaniel slapped seemed to sting even more. He'd hit him hard. He was surprised he wasn't bleeding.
"But I did hurt myself," he said hesitantly, realizing that his ankles and wrists stung viciously from what he had attempted to do. Why did he still feel that pain? Why wasn't he healing? Was it because of the wardings? He didn't like it.
He hadn't really meant to do it.
It had just happened.
"I mean, seriously hurt yourself. We need you to be in one piece."
"Stop talking to the Nephilim, Nathaniel," Cael ordered. "Someone heal him so we can get on with it. Being in his presence disgusts me."
"If he disgusts you then you need no part in it," the woman with the more pleasant voice said. From her voice alone Jack almost felt inclined to like her. But he couldn't.
"I want to make sure this venture succeeds, Laila. There are too few of us left."
As Cael and Laila continued talking, Jack not understanding what was going on, he felt energy going into him, clear, and purifying. The stinging and burning in his wrists and ankles lessened till it was completely gone.
It bothered him that that hadn't naturally happened on its own like any wound that had been inflicted on him before. Did that mean his healing was part of his powers, something instinctual?
It didn't feel right that he wasn't able to do that now, didn't have access to it.
By then Cael was saying something, that, judging by his tone, was insulting, but he didn't know what he meant when he used the word mounting. How could such a thing be used negatively in connection with Laila? It was in connection with him as well. He knew what the word meant, but it didn't seem like they were using it in the right way.
As the conversation progressed, Jack really didn't like that Cael kept calling him Nephilim instead of his actual name.
Nathaniel made both of them stop talking. Tension hung heavy in the silence, and the hands were stroking him again. The woman who he guessed wasn't Laila was now pinching and tugging lightly on both of his nipples, making them harden. Laila ran her hands up to his thighs, and heat fluttered in Jack's stomach when she stroked the inside of them. He didn't understand why that was happening. What did it mean? Did his body not like this? But… it felt good. Why were the angels making him feel good?
Soon, the stimulation to his nipples had trails of heat traveling down in between his legs. Laila's hands went to his hips now, and Nathaniel was being gentle with his hair, his face, and his neck, his touch nearly tickling him.
He felt pressure in between his legs, and heat, and it was nearly like something thick and lovely was coursing through his blood.
Were they using their powers on him?
His pulse quickened, his breathing fast and shallow. Jack didn't know what was happening to his body.
Laila's touch seemed hesitant as she grasped him in between his legs, yet it was still unlike anything Jack had experienced before. A long breath with his voice in it left him as his hips arched up into her small hand. The other angel stopped touching his nipples and began to run her hands all over his torso. Jack tilted his head back, dull fear throbbing threw him as he realized that exposed his neck more for Nathaniel to touch.
What if he started choking him?
But he hadn't done so yet, so maybe he wouldn't.
The hands on him were being good to him.
Laila seemed to grow more confident, her hand pumping him. He was hardening, and he didn't know why, hadn't known that was possible. It was frightening. Or maybe the fact that these angels had made it happen was frightening. Was it natural? Was what they were doing natural? Did humans engage in activities like this? If so, why hadn't his family told him?
But… maybe they didn't.
It hadn't been in any of what Sam had showed him.
And Jack realized he didn't like who was making him feel good. Something was off about it that he didn't know how to process.
It was too much.
The hands on him were too much. They lit up his body, making him want more and more of their touch, especially Laila's. If he didn't know any better he'd say he felt like he was burning. And maybe he was burning, but in a good way. Was that even possible? He felt hot, and something about Laila touching him in between his legs seemed to sear his nerves.
Jack moaned when her grip tightened, and one of the angel's was twisting his nipples now. It nearly hurt, but not quite. It seemed to send a jolt of sensation down to where Laila was pumping him.
He shuddered when another set of hands joined the mix. They ran up his legs and then down again, slowly repeating the motion.
Something wet and warm was around one of his nipples, making him jump and let out a soft cry. And then he felt something similar in between his legs, and he found himself arching into it as surprise jolted through him.
There was… something. A tongue, lips.
Mouths. Mouths were on him.
Why were they putting their mouths on him? He'd only seen humans really do such a thing with kissing.
But this was different.
The mouths and hands worked him up till he wanted to break free of his restraints to escape it all and maybe to hold onto something. He felt like he was losing himself. It made another tear fall, the blindfold soaking it up.
Was this torture? Were they torturing him?
No. He didn't hurt, but it felt like he nearly did. How was such a thing possible?
Laila's touch left him and then he felt smooth, feminine legs on either side of him. His stomach quivered for some reason. And then he was pressed against a body, and he was somehow impaling part of Laila. She was tight and soft and wet and so hot. Jack shuddered and his body arched up into her as he nearly screamed. Leila's voice was leaving her too.
Was Jack hurting her somehow?
Good.
He wanted to hurt her.
He didn't like this pleasure, though his body did. The fact that his body did was why he didn't like it. It felt like it was betraying him somehow.
But if he could hurt at least one angel then that was good.
So he thrust his hips upward as much as he could till he felt himself flush against her. He wanted to grab her so he could hold her to him to hurt her.
She shuddered, tightening her legs around him, and some sort of surprised, and maybe pained, sound left her.
Jack hated his body for acting in the way it did as he kept pushing up into her, screaming as he tried to use as much force as possible. He was burning. Oh, he was burning so much.
But if they were torturing him, then he was going to try and torture one of them. He wouldn't be helpless.
Laila's nails scraped his chest, making Jack growl and nearly try lashing out with his powers again. Laila's voice left her in high-pitched moans and whimpers, and then she said something in a language Jack didn't understand.
There were more voices in that language. They sounded angry.
She spoke again, pleading.
Then there were strong hands on his abdomen and legs, holding him down. Jack writhed against them, tension settling in his nerves as he was unsuccessful in freeing himself even a little. He couldn't move, meaning he couldn't hurt Laila anymore. His body seemed to throb, and there was a tiny electric spark that seemed to go in between his legs.
He started wanting her to get on with it. By now he thought he was aching. It was hard to tell.
Another voice: Cael. He was impatient.
Then a woman spoke, soothing.
He thought Nathaniel might've said something too, his voice quieter.
Laila seemed to relax above him and then she began bouncing herself on him. Jack moaned as it granted him with similar sensations as before. They were more gentle now, maybe less gratifying.
There was pressure building in him, white and hot and feeling like it needed to be released. Whatever it was he wanted it out of him. It was growing to be too much, and he was straining against the hands caressing him, the hands holding him down, against Laila's hot, still-moving body, against his shackles. He just needed release.
His body was tensing more and more until there were a few seconds where he felt he was absolutely going to lose his mind. Something burst through him, up from his toes, in between his legs, and then it pulsed outwards, and each pulse had him seeing blinding light, even in the darkness that enshrouded him. He felt good. He felt really, really good. So good he thought that maybe it hurt.
Laila stopped moving, waited out whatever was happening to him.
The hands didn't cease their feeling of his body, and he desperately wanted them to. The light sheen of sweat on his skin didn't seem to deter them.
The angels were talking again, but he was too tired to listen to what they were saying, though he recognized a few words in English now. Words like successful and hope and continue.
Laila was getting off of him, and he was grateful. Now if they would stop touching him he could catch his breath and relax.
He thought he might've heard the door open, but before he could pay much attention to that, another hand was touching him in between his legs.
It hurt.
It hurt a lot.
Jack thrashed and began begging, "Please, stop! Just let me go. I'll help you! I swear I'll help you! Just don't - agh - touch me anymore!"
He felt weak for having those words leave his mouth, figured that Sam, Dean, or Castiel wouldn't be crying and pleading like this. They would endure. Jack supposed he wasn't as strong as them. He was weak, and fear of pain, of suffering, could lead to the dark side as he'd seen with Anakin. But he didn't like Anakin. He didn't want to be like him. Not at all. But maybe he was. Maybe this weakness was bad.
He hated it, and he felt ashamed.
But he just wanted them to stop. Even if only whoever was touching him in between his legs stopped, he would be happy.
He was wet from being inside Laila, something he didn't understand, and it seemed like liquid fire with the hand stroking him. Another hand, from the same angel, went lower and squeezed.
"Stop! Stop, ple-ease! I'll… I'll do whatever you want!"
But it didn't stop. It didn't! And he couldn't take it anymore.
Jack screamed, and like before, he tried to attack the angels.
Pain engulfed him.
His head felt like it was going to burst, and the pain crushing his body left, but still there was that agony in between his legs. It traveled up to his stomach as sharp stabs, as ruining flares of heat. The angels stopped speaking over angel radio, and Nathaniel was still caressing his face, making shushing noises as Jack trembled.
"The pain will stop soon," he promised.
"H-how do you know?" Jack got out, his voice breathy and uneven.
Nathaniel didn't answer him.
The pain seemed to die down, and Jack relaxed a little, letting out a relieved breath. But then he felt blood rush down in between his legs again. It happened so quickly he grew a bit light-headed. Delicious heat flashed through his body.
He wanted to relax, wanted this all to stop so he could close his eyes and get some real sleep, not just the sleep being knocked unconscious had forced upon him.
But soon another angel was on him, and he was in her as well.
The angels knew to hold him down this time, and Jack poured his frustration into his voice. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to hurt all of them, even Nathaniel with his deceptively gentle hands.
One of those hands drew close to his mouth, till a finger was passing over his lips, making his already sensitive body tingle. Amidst the overwhelming sensations taking over his brain, he found himself quickly grabbing his finger and biting down as hard as he could.
Everything stopped, even the angel on him ceased her movements, her voice no longer leaving her. There was a cry that wasn't from him this time, and it felt good. A hot liquid was in his mouth. It was metallic, but almost… sweet. He didn't dislike the taste, maybe even enjoyed it.
More filled his mouth and he realized he did like it.
Why did he like angel blood?
Did that make him bad?
Maybe it was something he inherited from his father.
Even if it wasn't something he enjoyed he still wouldn't have let go of Nathaniel's finger.
That…
That…
Jack realized he didn't have a word to properly convey his hatred for Nathaniel.
What would Dean call him?
A son of a bitch!
That's what he was! He didn't know what those words meant, but he'd heard Dean call people them in anger, so they must be really bad.
Good.
That son of a bitch deserved it.
Even when the angels started talking on angel radio he didn't let go.
A strong hand was on his jaw, the grip growing tighter, and tighter, surely bruising his skin.
He fought it, keeping his mouth closed as tightly as he could, teeth digging deeper till they hit bone, more blood pulsing into his mouth.
Amidst all this struggling, he began softening in between his legs, and it felt odd still being inside that other woman. She seemed to notice, and then her insides were rhythmically tightening around him. Oh, that felt good.
He growled around the finger in his mouth, tried getting away from the hand on his jaw.
There was an audible crack, and pain lanced through his face.
He couldn't hold on anymore.
His mouth opened and amidst the pain, he didn't remember to swallow, and he found himself choking on angel blood as Nathaniel's finger left his mouth. It dripped on his face as he drew it away. Before Jack could instinctively lash out, his head was being hammered at from the inside. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt!
His face hurt.
He tried to tell them, slurring out through his tears once he caught his breath, "It hurts!"
No one healed him this time, and though he hated them, he wanted them to. He wanted it to heal all on its own like it should've. But it never did.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!
The angel on top of him forced him to stay hard in between his legs, and he found himself drowning in pleasure and pain, soon getting the two confused.
They were angry with him. He could tell. They were all angry with him.
With each second he felt heat building up in him, he wanted it to be released in that overwhelming burst like before so it would be over. He just wanted it to be over.
Finally, with the angels renewing their tender strokes, which felt more forced than they had earlier, he did reach that blinding, searing end.
The ringing notes in his head heightened with excitement. They seemed pleased with him, or pleased with whatever this resulted in.
It felt like something was leaving him.
But he didn't feel like he was losing something. It was something that felt like it needed to be released.
In a few seconds, his body relaxed, and a few of the angels were patting his tired body in appreciation. It made him jump.
As he caught his breath, the angel got off of him, and then his stomach clenched, fearing more. Nathaniel's hand, which was now healed and sticky with blood, touched his jaw.
Jack turned his head away, but his hand followed.
He healed him.
The angels ceased their assault of his head, their hands leaving his body.
He lay there panting, covered in sweat, blood smeared across his lips and part of his face.
"I say we keep going," Cael said.
"No! No!" Jack shouted.
Now it was Cael who slapped him.
"You will remain silent, Nephilim!"
Not knowing what else to do, and much too worn out to put up a fight, Jack nodded obediently.
"Cael, he's done," another woman said.
"We've done our research. We all know there are ways to make his body cooperate further."
"No. He needs to rest," another voice argued, this one male. "Besides, we don't even know if today was successful."
There was silence. Maybe other angels were nodding, or perhaps shaking their heads.
"Fine," Cael breathed.
Nathaniel ruffled his hair, an action he'd seen Dean affectionately do to Sam, and he hated it.
There were footsteps, the door opening, then closing, the majority of the angels surely leaving. The blindfold was finally pulled off of his eyes, and when he was no longer blinded by the glaring light and the white of the room, he saw that only Nathaniel remained.
Jack ignored him, withdrew inside himself.
Even though he was no longer in physical pain, one thought remained, and it seemed to be playing on loop in varying tones and speeds and intensities.
It hurts.
A/N: If you're wondering, I headcanon that Jack would like angel blood because Lucifer seems to have shown a liking for it.