TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS STORY: PROSTITUTION, SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, TORTURE, RAPE/NON-CON, CHILD ABUSE, AND FLASHBACKS TO ALL OF THEE ABOVE. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY I FAY OF THESE THINGS TRIGGER OR UPSET YOU. I WILL POST SPECIFICS ABOUT EACH CHAPTER IN MY AUTHOR'S NOTE.
Chapter 7 warnings: mentions of underage prostitution, referenced minor character death, Crowley being a general dick
Chapter 7
When the alarm blares, jolting Castiel out of sleep, he groans. Every day without fail for the last week, Gabriel's damn alarm clock has started screeching at six-thirty A.M. Castiel gets it, he really does, but he's used to sleeping the day away and being awake all night. It's going to take more than a week to get him back on a normal sleeping schedule, and the added help of the alarm is an infuriating necessity.
"Come on, Cassie, up and at 'em," Gabriel crows from the kitchen. Cas sits up on the collapsible bed that took Gabriel nearly two hours to unfold and rubs at his eyes. He's still not quite used to waking up on an actual bed instead of a pile of blankets on a cold apartment floor, or even just a sheet spread over rocky gravel with a few shirts stuffed under his head. Cas doesn't think he'll ever get used to not waking up next to Dean.
"Come on," Gabriel urges him. "We have to be at work in twenty minutes, so don't bother showering." Cas stands and stretches languidly, both he and Gabriel wincing when they hear his shoulders pop.
"I'll never get used to that noise, Cas, I swear to God," Gabriel huffs.
"Neither will I, and I hear it every day," he agrees, moving over to the nightstand Gabriel had dragged out into the living room and rifling through the drawers for clean clothes. Dean's Led Zeppelin shirt-the only shirt he'll sleep in now-is halfway over his head before Gabriel stops him.
"Woah there, Cas. I know you have no modesty or whatever, but not all of us want you stripping down in out living rooms." Cas flushes, pulling the shirt back down.
"Sorry," he mumbles, beginning to walk over to the bathroom door. Gabriel pauses him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Dude, it's fine. I was kidding." Most of the time, Castiel can put his former profession to the back of his mind, but now all he can think about is how he's so used to stripping around people he can't even find himself caring when Gabriel barges into the bathroom without knocking.
"Oh. Okay." He fidgets under his brother's gaze, until Gabriel glances away.
"Your back healed well," Gabriel says, effectively changing the subject and stepping back slightly. One of Cas's hands drifts back of it's own free will, brushing the intersection at his tailbone.
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," he responds quietly. "I'm going to go change." He walks quickly into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. He leans against the sink, nausea working its way into his stomach. He used to have some semblance of dignity left, back when he worked with Dean. He used to draw the line at disrobing for clients; there were marks too personal to show to just any john etched onto his skin. With Crowley, he didn't have much of a choice. It was either strip or starve for another few days. after the hospital, only Gabriel and the doctors had been allowed to see him, and that was only to dress the wounds and make sure they were healing correctly. Castiel used to think that maybe showing another person his scars would be more intimate. Then again, he used to think that he'd be showing them to someone he one, someone he trusted. Someone like Dean.
Gabriel is on the phone when Castiel reemerges from the bathroom.
"Yeah. Okay. I'll talk to him. Goodbye, Michael." Castiel stiffens. Gabriel sighs and slides the phone back in his pocket.
"What's going on?"
"That, as I'm sure you've gathered, was Michael. He wants to see you." Cas's first impulse is to immediately refuse. He and Michael can hardly stand to be in the same room anymore, or at least that was the case a year ago. Seeing him would only end in a fight.
"No." Gabriel looks at him imploringly.
"Please, Cas. He told me that he wants to make amends, apologize. You of all people know that I'm not exactly his number-one fan, but he sounded sincere."
"Michael always sounds sincere. I don't want to hear anything he has to say." Cas turns away, trying to stop his voice from trembling with anger. He thought he'd forgiven Michael, truly, but now that he's confronted with the possibility of a meeting, the long-forgotten fury bubbles to the surface of his mind.
"Just listen to me. He knows he made a mistake, and he wants to try and make it up to you. He said things he regrets, he told me-"
"Then you know what he said to me! You know that he valued Anna's life more than my own, that he was glad to see me go!" Cas turns back to face his brother sharply. "Why would he apologize when he spoke nothing but the truth?"
"Cas," Gabriel starts. "You don't have to decide right now. We just want you to think it over. I told Michael not to expect you to agree - I know I wouldn't if I were you. But please, I want you to try."
Cas wants to argue, to scream and rage and break down, but he knows he can't. He has to be strong, has to keep himself in line. No good will come from him throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child. He lets his guard drop and sighs heavily.
"I'll think about it. Maybe," he says. Gabriel looks relieved.
"Awesome. Come on, we can't be late." This makes Cas smile a little.
"You've been late four times since I came here." Gabriel grins back at him, opening the door and stepping out. Cas follows.
"Pics or it didn't happen, little brother." Castiel's brow furrows in confusion.
"I don't understand that reference."
• • • •
"Morning, darling," Balthazar croons to Gabriel as soon as the pair steps through the back door of Sweet Tooth. Sweet Tooth is a curious blend of a bakery, a cafe, and a chocolate factory that both students from the nearby college and workers from the surrounding neighborhoods flock to, and Cas would be lying if he said that the warm atmosphere and the rich smell of chocolate didn't make him feel safe and comfortable.
"You two aren't discreet at all," he says casually tying on an apron as Gabriel shoves Balthazar gently away. Gabriel sputters indignantly.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Balthazar looks amused and wraps one arm around Gabriel.
"I'm sure you don't," Castiel remarks dryly. "Other than the fact that you two have had something going on since you were teenagers." Gabriel goes read in the face and Balthazar throws his head back and laughs, arm still tight around Gabriel.
"You're smarter than we give you credit for, Cassie." Gabriel scowls at them and shrugs off his friend's arm, reaching for an apron himself.
"I hope so," Cas remarks. "And I'd like to thank both of you for not continuing your relations while I'm present." Gabriel, if possible, turns even redder.
"Cas, shut up." He shoves a broom into Cas's hands. "Do your goddamn job before I decide to fire you."
"Like that's going to happen." Cas rolls his eyes, but starts heading out anyways. There are already several students sitting in the several comfortable chairs, with their laptops out and steaming mugs beside them. He flashes a smile at Kevin, who's working the register, and begins sweeping around the tables.
"Hey, Castiel," Kevin calls.
"Yeah?"
"There was a guy in here, earlier. He was looking for you. Said to give you this." Castiel's mouth goes dry as Kevin hands out a small slip of paper. There's no way it could possibly be Crowley. He takes the paper with trembling fingers.
I miss you. Regular spot, 11 o'clock. See you there. There's no signature. Of course. Crowley doesn't need to put one. Castiel leans heavily on his broom. He's going to be sick, he thinks, but nothing comes up.
"Are you okay?" Kevin asks. Cas nods, straightening up.
"What did he look like?" Kevin frowns a little, tilting his head.
"Um…short. Dark hair, a bit of stubble. Fancy suit. He had this accent, like somewhere in England." What little hope Cas had drains away. What could Crowley want? Well, that's a stupid question. Castiel ran away from him. Had 'broken their agreement'. If he's being perfectly honest, he's surprised it took Crowley this long to find him. So he'll go. What other choice does he have?
• • • •
Gabriel finally lets him go that night without Cas having to explain anything. He just says that he has somewhere to be and that he'll be back before too long, and Gabriel sends him off after making him promise to text every hour.
"I trust you," he says firmly, and shuts the door behind him.
The usual spot is the ratty apartment building that Castiel had lived in for over a month, at Crowley's expense. The owner lets him into his old single room with a scowl and some muttered curses at 10:57. Exactly three minutes later, Crowley strides in with his usual smirk plastered to his face.
"Hello, Castiel. Long time, no see." Cas glares.
"Spare me the pleasantries, Crowley. What do you want?"
"I'm offended. Who says I want anything?" There's a tiny smile playing at the corner of Crowley's mouth that tells Castiel that he definitely wants something, and it's most likely that it's something Castiel won't want to give.
"You always want something. Tell me what it is," he growls. Crowley looks at him like he's a puppy trying to stand its ground against a wolf.
"Well, you did leave rather suddenly last week, wouldn't you say? What prompted that, I wonder?"
"I wasn't under the impression that I had to stay here," Castiel bites out. "That wasn't part of our agreement."
• • • •
Castiel is cold. It's the middle of October and while it isn't snowing yet, the air holds a distinct chill that it didn't have three months ago, and his few layers of short sleeved shirts and one ratty hoody aren't doing much to keep him warm. He's been walking for a few hours, at his last count, not exactly sure of where he's going other than away. Away from the Roadhouse, away from Ellen, and Jo, and the memory of Dean pressed warm into his chest. He's clutching both of their bags in his nearly numb hand, and he has to glance at it every few seconds to make sure that the handles haven't slipped through his fingers.
When he finds himself at the too-familiar cemetery, Castiel stops outside the gate. He pushes it open slowly, and even though it must be hours since closing time, it swings open easily, with barely a creak. He walks silently through the dark to where he knows from years of monthly trips that his mother is buried. When he reaches her grave, something is different. There's a fresh plot of ground directly to the left, and even though Castiel doesn't have to look at the headstone to know who it is, he does anyway.
In Loving Memory of Annael Novak, it reads. May she never be forgotten. He sinks to his knees between their graves. His mother, who he never really knew, and his sister, who he knew much too well. He could never really let either of them go.
"Please," he whispers into the night. "I don't know what to do." It's true. He can't go back to the Roadhouse, not with all the memories that come with it. Gabriel doesn't want him, and Michael…well. Michael made his view on Castiel clear a long time ago. He waits for an answer, from anyone, but nothing comes.
"I'm sorry." He rises from his knees. Only now does he see the bundle of flowers lying on the fresh dirt of his sister's grave. Lilies and peonies and a single white rose. He doesn't know who put them there. He doesn't know if it was one of his siblings, or one of Anna's many friends from the university. A part of him wants to get angry, rage and scream at the person who cares enough to to leave flowers at her grave. Instead, he sighs softly and turns away, walking slowly into the darkness that shrouds the cemetery. He closes the gate behind him softly.
Castiel doesn't know this part of town very well. In fact, he doesn't know it at all. Every once in a while, a car will pass by and illuminate what isn't lit by the dim street, but the brief moments of light don't do much to help Cas find his way. Even if he knew where he was going.
This neighborhood is crammed with run-down stores and beaten up apartment buildings, and in every alley Castiel sees shadowy figures that he knows much better than to approach. He doesn't make eye contact with anyone and draws Anna's trench coat tighter around his body, hoping that he'll be left alone. His hopes are dashed, however, when he notices a small pack of men trailing him, walking half a block back and across the street, but still keeping him in their sights.
Cas knows better than to panic. Running will only encourage the men to attack, like a pack of wild dogs. No, it's better to keep his head down and ignore them. If worst comes to worst, he has the knife Jo gave him for his fifteenth birthday tucked in his jacket, and he knows from experience how to fight men like these. Castiel realizes with a sinking feeling that there are far too many of them now for him to fight with any chance of winning. All he can do is hope that they leave him alone, but even he knows that it's not likely to happen.
For a few minutes, Castiel ignores the pack, not even looking in their direction, and when he finally does sneak a look out of the corner of his eye, he stops dead.
A shortish man in a finely tailored suit has stopped in front of the gang and is talking to one of the larger members who Castiel thinks might be the leader. The shorter man gestures widely and the leader's eyes flick over to Castiel, then back without seeming to care that he's staring at them, stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. A few minutes later and some violent hand gestures from the pack leader later, and the short man crosses the street and catches up to Castiel, who still hasn't moved.
"What's a pretty young thing like yourself doing out at this hour, hmm?" The man asks with what Castiel can immediately tell is businessman's sympathy. His guard flies up and he stiffens, straightening his spine.
"None of your business," he says. It's probably not a good idea, but he's tired. He just wants somewhere to sleep for the night. Despite the rude answer, the man perks up slightly.
"Ah. I see. Well, if you decide that you're in need of a place to stay for the foreseeable future," he pulls a business card from god knows where and holds it out towards Castiel. "Give me a call."
Cas takes the card automatically, and the man turns his back and begins walking away. He doesn't know why he does it, only knows that it's a tremendously bad idea, but Cas calls out after him.
"Wait!" The man turns back to him, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"Yes?" Castiel falters. He has no idea why he called out to him, other than he's exhausted and wants to survive the night.
"What did you mean, a place to stay?" The man's smirk grows wider.
"Exactly what I said," he replies in that smooth accent. "I can set you up for free, tonight." Castiel catches the hidden meaning.
"And after tonight?" He asks cautiously. The resulting smile puts him in mind of a shark; no real joy, just a predator staring down at its prey.
"We can discuss that later. Are you in?" Cas shouldn't say yes, this goes against everything Dean and Alfie and Ellen ever told him, this is a monumentally stupid thing to do, and-
"Yes."
• • • •
Crowley's still staring at him, amusement evident in his face.
"No, I suppose it wasn't. However," and there's the inevitable however, "I had to pay the rent for the day that no one realized that you were gone. Also, I had to compensate the clients you had scheduled. Meg especially."
Cas winces. He knew he was digging his own grave when he left, and now comes the inevitable fallout he was waiting for. Meg was his most regular client, who showed up every week without fail, sometimes twice or more. He has no idea how much she paid Crowley for him, only that it must have been a lot, because Crowley hates her with a burning passion and yet he granted her the privilege of his 'favorite employee' so often.
"What do you want me to do about it?" He knows that he can't hold his own against someone like Crowley, that it's impossible to do and will only end in more pain for him, but he can't help mouthing off every once in a while. It seems to only amuse Crowley further.
"Well, I set up an appointment with Meg for tomorrow night, Naomi the next, Bartholomew the next, and Meg again the night after, and of course I'll be coming to see you the following night, and then that should cover it, don't you think?" It's not a question. Castiel nods sharply, shifting in his chair.
"Can I go?" He asks carefully. Crowley raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. "Please." He's not going to cater to Crowley's sick ego any more than he has to. Finally, the man heaves a sigh and waves his hand.
"Yes, yes, you can go. Remember, next five days, same time. And if you don't show up, I can always reach you through that pretty young thing working at the bakery." And that solidifies any doubt Castiel has that he's coming. No way is he dragging Kevin into this.
"Goodbye, Crowley." And with that he sweeps out of the room.
• • • •
"Hey, Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?" He turns his head so that he's looking Dean in the eye, who's face is more serious than it has been all day.
"If I up and disappear one day-"
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Goddamn it, Cas, just hear me out." Cas huffs indignantly.
"Fine. What?"
"If I disappear one day, you have to promise that you won't come looking for me, okay? That's how dumb bastards get themselves killed on the streets."
"I can't promise that. You know I can't."
"Yes you can. If you got taken by someone, would you want me to go on some stupid suicide mission to find you?" An indignant pause.
"No," he admits.
"Okay. So swear to me, and I'll swear to you, that if one of us disappears that we'll go to Ellen, or somebody, and we won't do anything stupid like try and track down the son of a bitch who did it." Cas doesn't want to do it. He wants to cling to Dean with every ounce of strength in his body, but he knows that his friend is right.
"Okay. I swear."
"Me too."
"Goodnight, Dean."
"Night, Cas."
