Dean led the angel inside of his humble abode, not caring that the floor was littered with beer bottles and old cigarette butts. He wasn't a cleaning kind of guy. The angel would have to make do. Castiel turned his head back to the door at the sound of a click, only to see the demon slip a key into his pocket. Dean took the cuffs in hand, breaking the chain that held them together, creating two sigil bracelets on either wrist. "There," he spoke, subtly proud of his own handy work. "Now you can roam."

The apartment was on the smaller side, but the limited amount of furniture made it look bigger that it actually was. The door opened to wooden floors with a living area and a kitchen to the right, no counter to separate the rooms, just a table littered with Mason jars.

In the front was a massive wall of glass -a window that engulfed the wall, really- that overlooked the demon city. Dean watched with mulled curiosity as Castiel rounded the large sofa that sat in front of it, staring out into the mass of buildings, the pitch black sky making him look uneasy. It had its own beauty to it, make no mistake. A dark and metallic beauty, the kind that enticed demons. It seemed it at least struck some sense of wondering in angels as well. The city had no ceiling trapping it like Castiel had imagined. It wasn't just a safe buried beneath the earth; Hell's city was darkness that engulfed any material. Like a black hole, impossible to look into, just silently looming over a city of demons. The way Castiel stared at it made Dean pause. He remembered doing that once, to just wonder what was up in the darkness above them. Maybe it would swoop down and swallow them all whole. He snorted. The angel sort of reminded him of himself….

He shook the thought away, grumbling as he nodded towards the sofa, "You can sleep on the couch. I don't have another bedroom."

It sounded like a softer sentence to Castiel, and he took it in gladly. "Thank you."

Dean frowned, realizing himself that it had been kinder than he'd intended. There was a sudden need to spit something back. He wasn't a nice demon, and this angel invading his territory should damn well know it. He settled with something pointless, "It's that or the floor, pet."

Castiel nodded obediently, sitting himself down on the leathery material before taking off his coat. Dean watched him drape the raggedy thing over himself like a blanket before lying on his side, probably still gazing out the window.

"I'll be waking you early," Dean snarled, annoyed for wasting so much time watching the guy and turning on his heel before heading towards his own bedroom.

Castiel waited until he heard a door slam before clenching the coat closer to himself. A life as the pet of a demon, or rather 'the bride' of one. How was he even supposed to become a bride? To bear the demon any children? That was the point he had interpreted at least. The demon had said it himself, he was useless… At least he was still alive. If he was truly useless, they would have killed him, wouldn't they? Besides, being alive meant he had a chance to escape, as narrow as that may be. There was still chance.

Castiel stared up at the dark sky, frowning. It was as black as a demon's soul, and deeper than any ocean on the earth. Nothing but deep, looming darkness, held in a cartridge of sin. It was the very definition demonic, and it made him feel sick.

He didn't need to sleep. Angels never did, but he felt tired and weak, and just wanted to shut his eyes. He wanted to shut out the demon city and all the problems that came with it. He wanted to shut out Dean, and this day. Just shut it all out. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching tightly onto his coat.

What was he supposed to do now?

Dean glared at his alarm when it screamed at him. Felt like a hangover morning. Everything was too early. He slammed the top down with his hand before rubbing his eyes and groaning. Morning, huh? He peeked through his window, knowing perfectly well what he'd see. It was always the same, but it still irritated him anyway.

He slipped out of bed, not caring to change out of the clothes he'd worn yesterday, and shuffled out to the front room. The angel was sleeping on the couch, squirming around a little and drooling on his leather. He huffed, maybe a little more amused than annoyed, but definitely still annoyed.

"Hey, angel. Get up," he ordered, shoving its arm roughly.

"My name is Castiel…" he replied, shifting his face so he could glare at Dean, squinty eyes and all. Apparently he wasn't ready for morning either.

"I don't care," Dean snarled, "Get up when I say to."

Castiel frowned and rolled over, face against the back of the couch. "It's still dark outside…"

Dean let out a low chuckle before rounding the couch on his way to the kitchen. "Get used to it, sweetheart. It's always like that."

The angel swung his head around slowly, staring out once again. It was always that way? "You mean, there's never any form of light down here?" he asked with despair.

"Only the light we make ourselves. Usually fire though," he muttered, turning to watch the angel struggle in his seat, probably trying to stretch his wings. He smirked before pulling open the fridge, "Partly why Hell's got a rep for being hot. It's not. Just fire. There aren't exactly any angelic light beams down here."

Castiel frowned when he no longer had the power to use his wings, holding up his bracelets, only to mentally curse them. No angelic powers. "Is that why so many demons try to take bodies on the surface?"

Dean frowned. Demons possessed humans for all sorts of reasons, but yeah, most hated this place. Dean didn't think it was any less annoying than living on the earth though. Plus down here, he got to do what he liked without consequence. "Shut up and get over here if you want to eat."

"I don't need to eat…"

"You do with those sigils on. No angelic powers means you're human down here, sweetheart."

Castiel frowned, cursing his cuffs once more and fighting the urge to shake his wrists. It wouldn't help him, of course, but it would make him feel better. His wings were uncomfortable, but he couldn't do anything about it. Cautiously, he stood, making his way over to the small kitchen area where Dean was rummaging through the fridge, pulling out a couple things. What would the demon even have that he could eat? It wasn't as if the demons needed to eat either… and if they did…

"Here," Dean barked, jangling a jar out in front of him.

The jar, or rather, it's contents, glowed with a brilliant blue, moving like waves. Shining in the form of an orb ,swishing around in it's cage like some kind of enticing dancer. It was beautiful, to say the least, but contained. And it made Castiel cringe. "I can't eat a soul!"

"That's all I got," the demon grinned, opening a jar for himself before scooping pieces out into his hand. "Eat it or starve."

It looked like gel against his fingers, and Castiel watched in horror as the demon shoved it into his mouth, smacking his lips with pride.

"I'd rather starve! That's a human soul!"

"Duh. Where else would you get one?"

"You're a monster..." Castiel muttered, his hands in fists at his sides.

Dean grinned before bowing his head slightly, like he'd just been given some esteemed compliment, "Demon, sweetheart." He was obviously starting to enjoy himself.

Castiel turned violently, taking his jar with him before plopping himself down on the couch once more. Dean wiped his mouth of the blue gruel before shouting back, "If you're not gonna eat it, put it back in the fridge."

"No."

Frowning, Dean tried again, "Do as I say."

"Or what?"

He was angry now, not necessarily angry enough to kill the guy, but he could be getting there. Irritation was not something Dean handled well. Stomping his way over to the angel, Dean repeated himself before slamming his hands on the back of the couch; at either side of Castiel's head, watching the angel jump back with fright and stare up at him with wide eyes.

"Now listen here," he growled, "You belong to me now. That means you do as I say, when I say it."

Castiel noticed the way the demon's eyes became even blacker as he snarled, but held the jar close to his chest. "A soul is to be protected! Not digested!"

"That may be how it works up in the clouds, but down here they're for eating."

Castiel glanced at the jar once more. "Can I at least keep this one?" he begged, looking up at the demon with pleading eyes. "I won't complain, and I'll be cooperative as long as you let me keep this one. Just the one."

"What for?" He Griped.

The angel exchanged glances from the jar to the demon multiple times before finally deciding to speak, "...A demon wouldn't understand..."

Dean should have beaten the angel. He should have made sure he knew exactly what place he held in the food chain, but he just felt drained. It was too early, it didn't even really matter, it was just a lousy soul. He could get another one for a coin or two down at the store, and if it meant the guy would stop being such a little annoying shit... Besides, Dean knew he wouldn't have felt any pleasure in hurting the angel at that moment. But that thought bugged him, so he decided to ignore it.

Dean looked down at him again with a scowl, taking note of the way he begged to keep it, like it was something precious. He should have said no. That was what a master would do. Honestly, he didn't care that much. "Damn it! Fine. Keep the stupid thing. It's not like I could eat it now that your dirty hands have been all over it!" he barked, turning violently before stomping his way back to the kitchen. "Do whatever you want with it!"

Castiel smiled, holding his jar close to his chest happily. "Thank you…"

"Whatever." Dean replied, shoving his half-eaten jar back into the fridge, suddenly less hungry. "I'm going out."

"W-where?"

"You'll starve if I don't get something else. The last thing I need in here is a dead angel in my apartment." Dean growled, shoving his arms into his coat sleeves. He was upset with himself. "Don't pee on anything while I'm out."

"I don't have to-"

He shook his head with frustration, holding up a hand to silence the angel, "Remember, as long as you've got those bracelets on," he reminded, halfway out the door, "you're human. You need to sleep, you need to eat, and you'll need to pee."

Castiel frowned. "...Okay. Thank you."

"Stop thanking me already," he growled, "It's fucking annoying."

Castiel watched him slam the door shut and did his best not to wince. After Dean was gone, Castiel sat on the floor, staring contently at his jar. At least he had someone to talk to now. He tapped the jar gingerly with a finger. "Hello," he greeted cautiously, trying not to frighten it, "Can you hear me?"