Author's Note: Trigger warning. Non-con activity . . .Trigger warning. Abandoned Impala ;)
Chapter 21
Felix pulled into a motel parking lot. Dean glanced up at the sign. Starlight Motel. Corny name. He'd have to try and remember it. Felix pulled around to the back of the building and parked. Dean looked over at the doors and gulped. After turning the car off, Felix turned to Dean and smiled.
"What now?" Dean asked.
"Now?" Felix leaned over and caressed Dean's cheek. He drew back involuntarily, but there wasn't much room. As the witch stroked Dean's face, he murmured softly, words Dean didn't understand. Over the next several seconds, he felt as though blinders fell over his will. He relaxed in the seat. Felix undid the cuff on Dean's left wrist, then got out and came around to open the passenger door. He opened the second cuff and said, "Come along, Dean."
Dean wanted to resist. He wanted to tell Felix to go screw himself, but he was unable to control his actions. He got out of the car and followed Felix tamely to the door of the hotel, pausing while Felix opened the door. The witch stood back slightly and Dean walked right in. He heard the door shut behind him and willed himself to say something, to do something, but he just stood there in the middle of the room, which had a single king-sized bed in it.
Felix latched all the privacy bolts on the door, then walked up to stand right behind Dean. Dean could feel his whole body starting to shake. A silver Honda Civic. Even if someone had noticed Dean getting into that car, there were, what, two million of them on the road? And that assumed someone had noticed the make and model.
Felix nuzzled against Dean's neck, reaching around to unbutton Dean's coat. He dropped the heavy canvas jacket to the floor and began to unbutton the shirt beneath. "Layers upon layers," Felix murmured into Dean's hair. "It's like opening a present." Once the checked overshirt was off, Felix drew Dean's arms together and fastened a pair of handcuffs around the wrists. He murmured soft words in Latin, and Dean was suddenly in control of himself again. He started to move forward, away from Felix, but the other man seized his upper arms and spun him around, thrusting him hard against a wall.
"Let go of me!" Dean growled. He wondered suddenly if their antics would be heard in the rooms around them.
Felix leaned in against him, gazing deep into Dean's eyes. Dean felt his resistance begin to falter under that steady regard and fortified himself, looking away. Felix licked his neck, and a shiver ran through Dean at the touch. He remembered responding despite himself while he was handcuffed to a pipe in his own basement. There was something about this guy, something that Dean couldn't seem to resist.
"Dude, what are you doing to me?" he demanded.
"Doing?" Felix asked, his lips brushing the skin of Dean's neck. "At the moment I am tasting your skin. Shortly I plan to bite it. And before long, I plan to taste you all over."
"That's not what –" Felix bit his neck, making Dean's words stutter to a halt. "I don't mean that," he said intently. "You've got some kind of spell that . . . that makes . . ."
"You've put a spell on me, Dean," Felix said, and he abruptly stepped back and swung Dean around towards the bed. Dean struggled and managed to break free, but his momentum made him land on his back across the mattress. Before he could get back to his feet, Felix was on him again, twisting his shoulders at an extremely uncomfortable angle. Dean tried to scramble away, but Felix caught him and planted him firmly, face down, onto the bed, straddling him to help hold him in place. This position didn't strike Dean as promising. "I'm captivated," Felix added, and Dean rolled his eyes.
"You're crazy," Dean replied, though his words were muffled by the bedclothes. His nose was filled with the deodorizing spray the motel used to freshen the rooms between guests, and it was giving him a headache. "Let me up!"
Felix leaned over the top of him and tossed the pillows aside. Dean twisted his head so he could see what was going on and saw a metal bar about three feet long with padded leather cuffs at each end of it. A chain hung from the center of it off the head of the bed. Dean's heart sped up at the sight of the thing. "No! Seriously, dude, no."
"Hush, you'll be fine," Felix murmured into Dean's hair as he pulled the spreader bar closer.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Dean said, his voice hoarse. Handcuffs were one thing. He was used to those, he'd experienced them . . . before.
Felix released Dean's hands from the handcuffs and tried to force his arms towards the head of the bed. Halfway to panic now, Dean fought him for every inch. Felix paused and murmured softly, and Dean felt a familiar lassitude come over him. Before he knew it, his wrists were clamped into the cuffs at each end of the spreader bar. He felt his breathing quicken, and his heart felt like a sledgehammer in his chest.
"Relax, Dean, this is only to keep you still while we play," Felix said, drawing his hands down Dean's arms and then his torso. Dean felt something cold and metallic at the small of his back, and then he could feel his t-shirt splitting up the middle as Felix ripped it open. Dean yanked at the cuffs on his wrists, but they were solid, and with three feet of metal tubing in between them, he wasn't going to be able to get himself loose. Cold metal pressed briefly at each side of his neck as Felix slit the shoulders of his shirt open and pulled it free. Dean was shaking as memories began to assail him. Memories he'd successfully suppressed everywhere but in his sleep. Felix shifted upwards just long enough to flip Dean over, and then he smiled down at his captive.
Felix put the blade of the knife in his teeth and then began to undo Dean's belt. Dean was shaking his head. "You son of a bitch, let me go," Dean growled. "Stop!" Felix didn't pause, he just finished undoing Dean's belt and started on his jeans. Dean looked upward, towards the ceiling, his hands clenching into fists, images coming unbidden into his mind. The dark depths of Hell encroached on his consciousness. The cuffs there hadn't been padded, they'd been spiked through his joints, but as Alastair had once said, reality put too many limitations on the torturer. He could almost hear Alastair's voice.
He forced himself to remember that Alastair was dead, but that made him remember how the demon had died, who had killed him and by what means. He shoved that thought away and realized that there were hands on his bare ass. He looked up and found Felix staring down at him. "Where did you go?" he asked, his voice silky as his fingers kneaded Dean's buttocks, sending strange little zings of pleasure along Dean's nerve endings.
Dean drew in a shuddering breath. "Trust me, you don't want to know."
"Oh, but I do," Felix said. Completely naked, he knelt between Dean's legs, and as Dean gazed up at him, he began to explore the space between Dean's butt cheeks. "I want to know everything there is to know about you. Your every secret fear, your every hidden desire."
Reality started to fade again, Dean recalling another voice, another being who had wanted the same thing from him. Alastair hadn't said it so blatantly, but he had wanted it just the same. Dean shifted his attention to the ceiling, trying to focus on the white, popcorn-textured surface, broken only by the smoke detector, so that he wouldn't lose track of reality again. The longer he remained aware of the real world, though, the more intensely he felt every touch of Felix's skin against his own. He tried to kick out, to twist to roll the bastard off himself, but he realized that his legs were restrained in much the way his arms were. Something solid held them about three feet apart, cuffs encircling his ankles. When Dean tried to raise them from the surface of the bed, he discovered the limitations of his bindings. He could lift his legs about three or four inches, but then he came up against a chain that had to be attached at the center of the bar.
He began to struggle blindly against the restraints, pulling and yanking without much real effect. Dean lost himself in panic for he didn't know how long, but hands on either side of his face pulled him back to the here and now. "Calm down, Dean," Felix murmured, then kissed him gently. "You're entirely safe."
"You're a nutjob," Dean said, and he heard the tremulous sound of his voice with humiliation. "I can't – you can't do . . ." His breathing was coming in sharp gasps. Felix placed a hand in the center of Dean's chest and began to murmur softly. Dean felt the beginnings of that lassitude come over him, but his adrenaline was too strong for it to take him fully. He lay still, his whole body shaking with emotions he couldn't altogether identify.
"I can do whatever I want, Dean," Felix said. He leaned down and began to suckle on one of Dean's nipples, and Dean felt erotic yearning shoot to his groin, bringing his dick to life. Fingers began to twist and massage the other nipple, while Felix's other hand stroked Dean's shoulder. Dean thumped his head down flat on the bed, staring again at the ceiling. Maybe if he lost himself in the sensations of pleasure he would stay here and now, but then new memories began to intrude. Those last ten years in Hell had contained an odd mix of pleasure and pain. In Hell, suffering was inevitable. Meg had been right about that. Only perverse monsters like Alastair actually wanted to stay there. But Alastair had regarded Dean as his property from the time he arrived in the pit, and he had used his property however he had seen fit.
"No," Dean muttered, not entirely in control of his words. "No, God no."
"Where did this scar come from?" Felix asked, caressing the skin of the mark of Dean's raising from the pit, where Castiel had gripped him tight.
"Don't touch that!" Dean growled, his skin crawling as the witch touched skin that had been sanctified by an angel.
"Why?" Felix asked curiously, his hand not leaving the mark. "Does it hurt?"
"What?" Castiel demanded in his gravelly voice.
"Damn it, Cas, I've been trying to get hold of you forever!" Sam snarled. "Where are you?"
"Trying to follow Dean's tracks, but it's nearly impossible."
"Have you tried looking for the Impala?" Sam asked urgently. "You protected us, but did you protect the car?"
There was silence on the other end of the phone line, and then Cas said, "No, I did not. It is in a parking lot at the corner of Johnson and Peel."
Sam gulped. "Let me look that up," he said, turning towards the computer. He saw Ellen's eyes widen and Jo's hand go automatically for her gun, so he was halfway prepared when the hand came down on his shoulder.
"No need," Castiel said, and then they were in the chill of night, in a parking lot. Snow was coming down in soft flakes, and the Impala looked like it had been iced by a master cake decorator. Sam approached the car and peered in. No sign of Dean inside it.
He turned around to see where they were. "Dean has been here," Cas said.
"The car was a subtle hint," Sam replied.
"It could have been stolen," the angel pointed out. "Or driven away and left somewhere to throw us off."
Sam nodded slowly. "I suppose." The parking lot served a diner and what looked like a small office park. Knowing his brother, Sam headed into the diner. Castiel walked over to a stool not far from the door and looked down. He glanced at Sam and nodded. Sam walked over and glanced around, but he saw no sign of his brother. He sat down, and Cas sat next to him. A young woman with dark hair walked up. Her name badge proclaimed her to be Julie. "Hi, can I help you?" she asked.
"Coffee," Sam said. "Can I get it to go?" She nodded and grabbed an insulated cup. "So, did you see who was driving that car?" he asked, pointing towards the Impala.
She shook her head. "No sir. It was here when I got here. Let me ask the other girl, she got here before me." She looked over Sam's shoulder, and both Sam and Cas turned to see that another waitress was passing by them on her way to the kitchen. "Did you see who was driving that awesome car?"
The woman turned and looked at the Impala. "No, I didn't. It was out there when I got here."
Sam noted her name badge automatically. Margot. "Thanks," he said, disappointed but not altogether surprised. "Are you the only two here?"
"Clement's been here since noon," Julie said, gesturing towards the man in the kitchen. She raised her voice. "Clement, did you see who was driving that Chevy?"
"Tall, dark hair, left just before Margot got here," Clement said shortly. "Rhonda said he was hot, then something about all the good-looking ones being gay."
Sam gulped. "Did you see where he went?"
Clement shook his head, coming around the wall that separated the counter from the kitchen. "I just asked her who belonged to the classic car, and she told me it was the guy who sat . . . well, he was sitting where you're sitting right now, I think. Anyway, I didn't really see him for long."
Sam pulled out one of their fake ID badges. He'd stuck it in his pocket during his long wait to go out looking. Holding it carefully so that only the photo could be seen, he said, "Is this the guy?"
Clement leaned close. "Could be. Didn't get a great look, just a glance. Gotta keep an eye out on who all is here, for my girls."
Julie giggled and Margot rolled her eyes before heading to the door the seat a couple who were waiting despite the sign that told them to seat themselves.
Sam paid for his coffee, then he and Castiel left the diner. They stood looking at the car for a long moment. "I'm not sure we should move it," Sam said finally. "What if Dean comes back?"
"I very much doubt Dean will be doing anything under his own power for some time," Castiel said darkly. "Not unless we locate him."
Sam ground his teeth and looked around. "Well, either he left on foot or he got into someone else's car."
"I believe we should take Dean's car to the apartment," Castiel said.
"I don't have the keys," Sam pointed out.
Castiel touched the lock on the driver's door. Sam blinked at him and popped the door open. He climbed in, and a moment later Cas was beside him. He touched the ignition, knit his brows, and then the Impala's engine roared to life. Sam stared at him. "We are not telling Dean about this," he said.
"Why not?"
Sam shook his head and pulled out of the parking lot.