Anael had agreed to not heal her tattoo once she'd gotten it, though she didn't seem to like it much. Sam felt off having her do something to her body without her consent, but it was necessary. And she'd touched Jack. But she'd been used too… All of this was making him sick, so now he sat on the bed across from her in their motel room, trying to figure out what to say. Dean had handcuffed her to the bed, not trusting that she wouldn't run away, and Sam thought it was a great idea. He found that his eyes kept going to her belly, and she noticed, was now glaring at him.
"Just say something," she told him. "I can tell you want to."
Sam shook his head, and finally managed to get himself to turn away. All he could see in his head when he looked at her was Jack. Jack naked, Jack being touched. God, he hated this. He hated all of it.
"Forget it," he forced out. "It's not important. Dean, what's the plan?"
"We trade Anael for Cas and Jack?" Dean suggested, though the lift at the end of the sentence spoke of him not being too hopeful.
"They'll never accept such a deal," Anael said. "They want me, but they won't let Jack go."
"Are you the only one that's pregnant?" Sam asked slowly.
"Yes. But…"
"Others have… touched him," Sam finished, turning back to her.
She swallowed roughly, and nodded.
"What the hell are we supposed to do?" Dean asked. Then he was up out of his chair and pacing. "What was Cas even friggin' thinking?"
"If anything, he's closer to Jack," Sam began. "Maybe he can do something from where he is."
"They won't let him get near him," Anael told them. "Not unless he agrees to help them."
Dean leaned against the table, arms crossed. "So then why don't they just kill him?"
"They can't. The more angels there are the better. So they'll keep him around."
"What, and we're left here with you?" Dean asked. "That's just bullshit."
"Anael, is there anything you can tell us that might help us get Jack back? Maybe Dean can pray to Castiel, send him information."
She sighed, shifting on the bed, and Sam's eyes traitorously went to her belly again. Her eyes were on him, then Dean, and Dean also seemed to have been looking at her stomach.
"What are you asking me, Sam? What is it you really want to know? You keep staring."
"I keep staring because…" He ran a hand over his face. "Look, forget it. What do you know?"
"Why do you keep staring?" she repeated, more slowly this time.
"I don't know," Dean drawled, "maybe 'cause you fucked our son and got knocked up."
"I had to get close to him," Anael reasoned. "That was how I did it."
"We told you to not touch him!" Sam shouted, letting rage pour forth into him. He stood up now, leaning over her, hoping he seemed imposing. "What about that did you not understand?"
"Do you think I want to be pregnant?" she screeched at them. "I'm like this because your brother over there threatened me. If I didn't go to Heaven he was going to torture me."
Sam huffed, and side-eyed his brother. "Dean, is that true?"
"We needed to get her to cooperate," he said, voice raised. "She wasn't going when I wanted her to, I told her what I'd do. That's how it is. You didn't have to fucking sleep with him."
"You don't understand!" she told them. "They're all sleeping with him. By the time I got there it was nothing new to him. It was expected of me. He expected it of me. I… I didn't want to. He took me to his room, and-and he took my clothes off, and…"
"You know he didn't know what he was doing," Sam explained.
She looked away from them. "I know. He… He doesn't know. The angels, they…" Anael turned her gaze down to her stomach now, and Sam saw a tear fall. "I wish I could fix this. But… But they're doing more now. We don't have to lie with him anymore. I… I didn't even get pregnant when he slept with me."
Sam slowly sat down on the bed again, but shifted to the edge of it so that he was close to her. He could taste dread on his tongue, weighing it down like lead, but still he asked, "Anael, what do you mean?"
"I don't… I don't… It's awful, but please, don't make me tell you. I can't. I can't tell you."
"Anael, what do you know?" Dean asked, now coming over to her.
Now she was avoiding both their gazes.
"He doesn't talk anymore," she began quietly. "He did when I first got there." She smiled at some memory that they didn't have. "He was in the Garden of Eden, Nathaniel watching him. They let him collect some flowers to make a few flower crowns. That was when I introduced myself, and he gave me one. He was making one for all the angels. Except for Cael. Even with what Naomi's done to his head he doesn't like Cael. He was so sweet. He smiled at me, he held my hand. Even… Even in bed he's sweet."
"Please stop," Sam got out, feeling light-headed, an ache forming in his stomach.
But now Anael seemed lost in her own little world, "He does his best to make sure it doesn't hurt. It does a bit, of course - he really does have a lot of energy - but he cares. Even when he stopped talking I could tell he cared."
"Cut out the x-rated scenes," Dean stated. "Why did he quit talking?"
"We… What we did to him… I don't think he can handle it. It works. Physically it works, but it's killing him. Nathaniel told me he hurts himself, and I've seen him do it. He won't eat, won't drink, can't sleep. He has nightmares. He's wasting away, and still they keep doing it to him. His Grace is weakening."
"What are they doing to him?" Sam asked, wanting to reach out to her and shake her to get across how important this was.
"Please," she told them, head raised, tears trailing down her beautiful face. "Don't make me tell you."
"We need to know how to help him!" Dean argued.
"You can't!" she yelled back. "You can't. They're angels, you're human. You can't get to Heaven, and that's where he is."
"Would they bring him to Earth for any reason?" Sam asked.
To Sam's surprise, she nodded, and he looked at Dean eagerly, licking his lips, before directing his attention back to her.
"They have."
"Why? When was it?"
"At first they were worried with what they were doing to his head. It was before I got there. They took him down to Earth to have a doctor look at him."
"Would they do it again?" Dean asked.
"I don't think so. They let him heal on his own now when they… when they drill into him."
Sam closed his eyes, turning away, his throat aching.
He wouldn't cry. No, he wouldn't. He couldn't. Jack needed him to remain strong.
"But if he got hurt badly enough, and they thought it'd jeopardize their plans, would they bring him back down?"
"I don't think there is a way for him to get hurt like that. They'll just heal him. They trust what they're doing to his head."
"But you said you talked to him about us," Sam reasoned. "What if that leads to something?"
"It might, but they'll just operate on him again. It'll be like before. He'll heal, he'll be fine."
"He's not fine," Dean said.
"You know what I mean," she shot back.
"Is there a way we could draw them out?" Sam asked. "The angels, they'll be looking for you, maybe we can use that."
"Use me as bait? No thank you."
"Can you still hear them?" Sam asked. "What are they planning?"
"No, I can't hear them," she informed them. "They cut me off from angel radio just like they did Castiel."
"So we got nothin'," Dean surmised. "Great. That's friggin' great."
He got up, grabbed his keys.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked.
"To find the nearest bar. You get first watch. I'll relieve you when I get back."
Sam flinched when Dean closed the door, and then he was left all alone with Anael.
Sam had a question, one he felt was useless given the situation with Jack's head, but he had to ask anyway: "Does he miss us?"
"I think he does. He's lonely. Duma could send as many angels to him as he wishes and he's still lonely. Even with me. He really liked me, and…"
"Does he know?" Sam asked, eyes drawing to her belly again.
She saw where his gaze went, and was now looking down there as well. "That I'm going to have a baby? Yes. He was rather confused as to why I was getting so big. But he doesn't know he's the father. Jack doesn't even understand how I'm pregnant."
"Neither do I," Sam said, reminding her that there was still information she had yet to share.
"Yes, well, I wish I didn't know. I rather it had been from me sleeping with him. I was close, I was so close. But then Cael hurt him, used angel radio, got into his head. Jack was in agony, he was shaking."
"I'm glad he wasn't alone," Sam said softly.
He knew he didn't like what Anael had been doing with him, but he couldn't direct his anger at her no matter how badly he wanted to. She wasn't the main problem here. All the other angels were. She was just another victim of their twisted ways, even if she had tried getting control.
"He's still not alone," she added. "He has Nathaniel."
"You mentioned him before. Is he… Would he be willing to help us?"
"I don't know. He's very protective of Jack. I… I think he loves him."
Sam grimaced.
"Not in that way!" she quickly corrected, shifting to the edge of the bed, handcuffs rattling. "He might want to help, but while Jack remains their prisoner, he remains with Nathaniel. I've seen him with the boy. I don't think he'd want to give him up."
Sam sighed. There went that idea. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see who comes after you."
Sam got up, and started going through his bags, finding a change of clothes. It was nighttime, but he was going to remain dressed in case they had to leave quickly. As he went through his things Anael questioned, "Can I shower?"
"Angels don't need to shower," Sam reasoned.
"Sam."
She sounded insistent, so he turned to her, and their eyes met.
"I need to shower. I… Before I left Heaven, I got Jack to eat a little, and he wanted a reward."
His stomach turned at her words, but really, Sam was used to being nauseous by now.
He went over and undid the cuffs, and Anael gave him a small smile.
Nathaniel was once again cleaning up Jack in the bathroom. The both of them had gotten so used to this, that Jack knew when to raise his arms, knew when to tilt his head back, knew the entire routine. Nathaniel observed him as he did so. The boy weighed less than when they'd captured him. It was awful, but he didn't know what he could do to get him to eat. Maybe he could reward him with sexual favors.
He swished his tongue around his mouth at that, still remembering Jack's taste. It hadn't been gross like he'd expected, had been very… Jack, but he still regretted it.
"Jack, I'm going to have to get you to eat," he told him as he massaged his fingers against his scalp, lathering up the shampoo.
The boy lifted up his head, turning baleful eyes on him.
"You're dying like this, do you understand?"
Still that awful, empty silence.
"Jack, if you eat, I'll… I'll play with you again. And maybe… Maybe I don't have to take you back to that room. Would you like that?"
He saw something flash in Jack's eyes at the mention of the room that they brought him to day after day, and then he nodded.
"Alright, well, I'll talk to Duma about it. After I finish up here, I'll have one of the angels bring you some food. And you have to eat it. Okay?"
The boy nodded again, and Nathaniel breathed a sigh of relief.
"I won't allow it," Duma said.
"But surely we have plenty of Grace from Jack!" Nathaniel argued, throwing his hands out. "Why do we have to keep torturing him?"
"Because it's routine," she shot back. "Routine is important, especially when dealing with a prisoner. His body and his Grace expect it, which makes it all the more easier for us. Time away from it, and he'll learn to hate it. He'll fight us, and we'll have to be even more forceful with him."
"We don't have to force him. If we just slowed down, and explained things, then maybe-"
"Then maybe he'd learn to resent us."
Silence, and then she went on, "I know what you did."
Nathaniel's cheeks colored, but he said, "He was upset. I have to keep him happy, even while we're still torturing him, so that's what I'm doing."
And he knows something's wrong.
Nathaniel kept that thought to himself, not wanting another drill to be put into Jack's head.
"Strictly speaking, it's not torture," Duma reasoned.
"How so?" Nathaniel asked. "Can't you see he's wasting away? We're killing him!"
"Nathaniel, you will take him to that room tomorrow and do your job or else I will find someone else to do it."
"Who? Cael? You know the maniac likes it."
Duma leaned against the couch that she now stood behind. The lights in the room dimmed.
"I sent Cael away. He'll be looking for Anael."
Nathaniel said nothing about that, though he knew Cael must be so happy to have been given that assignment. The creep seemed to have an odd fascination with her pregnancy. Though, it was difficult to not be fascinated with it. She was the first pregnant angel in… Nathaniel didn't know when. Nephilim had been born before, but always to human women. Never before had an angel given birth. She was something of a miracle at the moment, even if it was borne of sin.
All of this was drenched in sin, and Nathaniel had just about had enough of it. But he couldn't free the boy. If he tried to do so, he'd be punished, most likely made to lie with him - as if he wasn't already planning on doing that at some point, if only to keep him happy.
Maybe they'd find a worse punishment for him, throw him in a cell like Castiel.
Castiel, that was it!
Nathaniel knew what he had to do, but not wanting to seem in a hurry, still knowing what he came for, he said, "Duma, just one day."
"He's already had one day," she reasoned. "That was today. The room, tomorrow. It's your job."
Nathaniel didn't ask for her to assign it to someone else. Someone else could be more cruel. But now Nathaniel was convinced he couldn't follow through with it. He was going to try and free Jack. That boy had had enough suffering and Nathaniel was sick of being a bystander to it.
He nodded, knowing he wasn't going to win this argument, other plans already racing through his head, and then he left, hoping displeasure was written all over his face.
Castiel was in the cell for a few hours before anyone came to visit him. He was surprised anyone wanted to visit him at all. He was on his feet when he saw Nathaniel approaching.
"You," he growled out. "You took my son."
"Yes, I did," the other angel said, calmly crossing his arms.
Or maybe he wasn't so calm.
Castiel looked him over again. Something was off about him.
"Why are you here?" he asked him.
"We want your help with Jack," he told him.
"I already told Duma my answer was no. You'll never get me to harm that boy."
Then Nathaniel said something that surprised him: "Good, because I don't want to harm him any more than you do."
"What?"
"I want this to stop," Nathaniel said. "It has to stop."
"Then stop it!" Castiel reasoned.
Nathaniel shook his head sadly. "My rank isn't high enough. Tomorrow, I have to… No, it doesn't matter what I have to do. Tomorrow, I might have a chance. He'll be under my… care for a few hours."
"And what about me?" Castiel asked. "What can I do?"
"I'll come to you beforehand, unlock your cell. Indra has the keys. I'm sure I can get them from him without him noticing. You meet me at the gate."
"And how do I know you'll keep your word?"
"You don't."
That was the last thing Nathaniel said, and Castiel was left to think this over, all while missing his family so deeply that he fell to his knees. He held onto the bars, and leaned his head against them.
"Oh, Jack," he murmured, vision blurring. "Jack, please be okay."
Jack had eaten. The food was bland to him, and he hated it, but he thought about what Nathaniel had told him, thought about playtime.
He grew impatient as he waited for Nathaniel to come, and he started pacing. Eventually, he grew frustrated with his shirt, and he took it off before throwing it across the room. There, that was better. Less to get in the way when Nathaniel got here.
Eventually, the angel showed himself, and Jack rushed to him, cupping his face in his hands, bringing his lips to him.
Nathaniel gripped the back of his head, and pulled him off of him. Jack whined.
He wanted to play!
"Jack, things are going to be different tomorrow."
A shiver ran through him, which made Nathaniel run a finger over his cheekbone. The last time he'd told him things were going to be different he'd been taken to the Room. Was there something worse than that?
"It's okay," he soothed. "It's okay. But you're going to have to keep your strength up. Perhaps we shouldn't play."
Jack drew his lips together in a line, jaw clenching, staring insistently at Nathaniel. He had said he would play with him so he was going to play.
He put a hand to the back of the angel's neck, and made him lean down to him, their lips touching again. Nathaniel started pulling back, and Jack growled, his other hand going to his shirt. He was going to get his playtime.
Nathaniel gave in, was kissing back now, lips warm and soft. He took a step forward, and Jack got the idea, slowly backing over to the bed, hands undoing Nathaniel's clothes.
Their lips parted, and Nathaniel breathed, "We can take it easy, Jack. You have to be strong for tomorrow."
Was something bad going to happen tomorrow? No, he couldn't think of it. It was all too much.
Jack was going to be fine, especially if he got to play with Nathaniel more thoroughly than earlier.
"Are you happy, Jack?" Nathaniel asked when Jack pulled back to work on taking his clothes off. He looked up at him at that, mouth opening, but no words came out. Frustrated, but still wanting to answer him, he placed a kiss to his neck. Nathaniel drew closer to him at that, and whether it was intentional or not, Jack liked it.
The angel looked up now, and Jack couldn't see his eyes, and he wondered why he was doing so. Was Nathaniel sad? He smelled sad. Jack didn't want him to be sad.
To tell him it was okay, he fully bared his torso, and then he was running his hands along him. Yes, Nathaniel was different than his other playmates, more like him. He liked it, liked any of his playmates, really. Nathaniel's body was wonderfully toned, and he wondered why he hadn't wanted to play with him before. What had been stopping him? Whatever it was, Jack hoped he could kiss it away, make him realize that he was important to him. Even when he was confused, even while he kept chanting Sam, Dean, Castiel, in his head, even when the angels seemed like they might be the bad guys, he still had Nathaniel. Nathaniel who fed him, who washed him, who had finally played with him.
Nathaniel.
Remembering how good it had felt with Nathaniel touching his nipples earlier, Jack got on the bed, and pulled Nathaniel in between his legs, before starting to lap curiously at one of his nipples. A deep sigh left him, hips arching forward, and now Jack had his hands on his pants, trying to undo them. Yes, he could feel something, that hardness he felt in between his legs when he was ready to play. He was making Nathaniel happy!
But then why did he still smell so sad? The scent was heavy, tinged with so many others that Jack could barely make sense of it. He was going to have to do better.
Nathaniel's hands caressed his head, the sides of his face, and then his neck. It felt so good, Jack moaned against him, slowly rubbing himself against his leg.
Then he was kissing his way over to Nathaniel's other nipple before sucking on it. Curious, he gripped it with his teeth, making Nathaniel wince, but he didn't push him away, so he kept at it.
Eventually, the angel took hold of him and pressed him down to the bed.
"Jack, I'm going to go easy on you," Nathaniel told him. "We don't have to play rough."
Jack nodded and then Nathaniel was kissing him, working a hand between his legs.
Then he was pulling his pants down, and his warm hands were on his bare thighs. Jack whimpered when he took him into his mouth.
No, this wasn't precisely the way he wanted to play. He wanted… Well, he wanted what he got from Laila, and Ariel, and Tamiel, and Anael. He wanted to be inside him.
But how?
His stomach clenched, some awful memory he couldn't understand giving him the answer.
Jack sat up, shoving Nathaniel off of him, and then he threw him to his knees. Nathaniel let out a startled cry, so Jack draped himself over him, kissing his cheek before having his mouth drag over the back of his neck, then down, in between his shoulder blades. His hands were on his hips, then he was figuring out how to undo his pants.
"Jack," Nathaniel breathed.
He groaned as he squeezed at him through his pants.
"Jack, just take it easy."
He kissed him again at that, hoping it could transform into a word, and that word was play.
Play, play, play. It was what he wanted.
He had Nathaniel's pants down, and yes, Nathaniel was the same as him in between his legs. Not soft, but hard, and hot, and he was intrigued by it.
"Jack, just give me a minute. We can play in a bit."
He listened to him, not wanting his playmate to feel overwhelmed, and he went to lie down on the bed. When he lifted up his head he could see Nathaniel on the end of the bed, head bowed, taking in heaving breaths.
Then he was getting to his feet, and he gave Jack a smile.
"I'm alright."
Jack raised his eyebrows at him, widening his eyes, hoping it asked the question he wanted: Play?
Then he was getting on the bed with Jack, crawling over to him as he said, "You were a good boy, so we're going to play. But we don't have to play like you're used to. We can just do what we did earlier."
Jack decided to give it a try, to see if he would be alright with just that, so he spread his legs, and let Nathaniel settle in between them.
Yes, he took him into his mouth just right, tongue swirling around him. He crooned into the air, and Nathaniel's hands ran over his body, playing. Jack twisted his fingers in his short hair, hips arching up towards him.
Yes, yes, this was the way to play. Yes!
But he wanted to bounce on the bed with Nathaniel. He couldn't do that like this.
He started thrusting his hips, hoping to feel some of the give of the mattress that way, and Nathaniel's grip on him tightened, nails biting at sensitive skin.
No, this wasn't right. Wasn't all that he wanted. Jack lifted his hips one more time, voice leaving his throat, and then he let Nathaniel continue with what he was doing. He twitched in between his legs, feeling so full and heavy, and oh, how he just wanted to bounce and roll around.
There was a way to do it. He knew there was a way to do it. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. That information came with darkness, something heavy over his heart, but maybe he could do something good with that darkness. He could show Nathaniel how fun it was to play.
Jack wrenched him off of him, and then was pulling Nathaniel up. Nathaniel's hands were over his now, and they were kissing. Jack got his legs under the angel and then shoved him backwards, making sure he went with him. He giggled at the motion, and then resumed kissing him. He brought his hand in between Nathaniel's legs, feeling, feeling… Yes, right there. Right there.
Jack was confused that he wasn't wet like his other playmates were, so he supposed he was going to have to do something about it.
He lowered himself down Nathaniel's body, as the angel insisted, "Jack, you don't have to. It's fine. Really, it's fine."
He smiled up at him, letting him know it was alright, and then he was licking him. When he deemed he was wet enough, he settled more firmly against Nathaniel, and then he was pushing into him. The angel groaned, a shudder running through his body, and then he was holding onto the sheets, knuckles turning white.
There was lots of bouncing and rolling around after that, and Jack found himself laughing and smiling, enjoying all of it. His own part of playtime ended when Nathaniel was on him, hand on his chest, bouncing on him. Jack cried out, and then Nathaniel was off of him.
He found himself staring in between Nathaniel's legs, confused.
Jack was done with playtime. Why wasn't Nathaniel? It hardly seemed fair that he had finished while the angel hadn't, so he brought his mouth to him to suck as his other playmates had so often done.
It was odd having such fullness in his throat, but he found he could take him in all the way without any problems. With some difficulty, he copied what the angels did to him, and Nathaniel's hands were in his hair, and then his hips were arching up and up, and then there was something hot and sticky in Jack's throat. He wasn't sure he liked it.
Wondering what was happening, Jack pulled his mouth off of him, and watched.
In a few seconds, Nathaniel was softening in between his legs, and Jack wiped up some of what had come out of him before putting it in his mouth.
It tasted…
It was a taste he couldn't describe, but it was clearly Nathaniel. Then he wiped up some more, before holding it up to Nathaniel's face in lieu of a question.
Nathaniel interrupted his harsh breaths to laugh, and pushed his hand away. "No, Jack, that's not for me."
He held it up to him again, asking.
"You're wondering what that is, aren't you?"
He nodded.
There was guilt coming off of Nathaniel in heavy waves, confusing Jack, but he answered, "Well, it's what your body makes. It's… It's a sign that playtime was good."
That seemed sufficient to Jack, so he sucked his finger into his mouth.
Then he curled up with Nathaniel, and he was tired enough to get some sleep. Hopefully none of his nightmares about the Room would plague him.
Nathaniel watched the boy as he slept, so full of regret that he wished to leave at that moment. He didn't deserve to be in the presence of a child whose innocence he had ruined, a child who still acted like a child in some ways, who seemed young and old all at once. At least this would teach Jack to eat, would teach him to take care of himself. And it clearly tired him out enough to sleep.
Nathaniel used his Grace to clean himself up, untangled himself from the boy, and dressed.
Tomorrow. Things would be better tomorrow.
But there was no taking back what he'd done, what he'd let Jack do. Even now he wished to banish those memories from his mind, the memories of Jack holding him as he thrusted into him, the memories of his body against his. He supposed it had only been a matter of time before something like this had happened, but he had expected to be in a different vessel for it. What had just come to pass didn't further the cause of his brethren. It had only been for Jack. To make him happy.
If only the boy knew happiness didn't come from violation.
He stirred in his sleep, and then, Nathaniel heard him speak for the first time in three weeks, and what he said, he would keep to himself to spare him the drill:
"Castiel."
Hoping he would remain quiet, Nathaniel leaned over him and kissed him on the forehead.
"Shh," he murmured. "You'll be with him soon enough. Sweet dreams, Jack."