Michael flipped his phone shut and considered the naked giant on his bed. He had been too big to strap down to the posts, so he'd bound his calves to his thighs using two belts on each leg, one held awkwardly. Both arms were tied to the upper posts and he was blindfolded.
Disinterestedly, he watched sperm and blood seep between his spread legs. He witnessed the bruises and the burns. If it hadn't been for how tensely the boy was holding himself, jaw clenched shut and bloodied teeth bared, he would have assumed he was even unconscious from shame and pain.
He should have been unconscious. Michael himself had been too angry to lay a hand on the kid, but his boys had been more then helpful in taking over for him.
Sam Winchester… Dean's little brother. Of course, Dean had never told him that. He had never really given him a chance too.
With all the pictures that had once been about and the stories circulating through town, Dean had never needed to tell him. Sam Winchester… Dean's beloved little brother, the only person in the world he would live, die, sacrifice, and steal for.
If such were true, then Michael would have Dean back within the hour. Or as soon as he could be found. And once his little one was returned to his rightful owner, he would have to punish him. Maybe he would be lenient and let his boys at him.
Maybe he would be cruel and leave Dean alone for a few days.
His three men were waiting on the other side of the mattress, Raphael doing up his pants while Uriel fixed his shirt. Zachariah waited with hands folded beneath his pot belly.
"Men," Michael began low and softly, all three lackeys flinching to a full-standing position, "we should prepare for company." Because he didn't want Sam putting in his own two cents, which was apparently coming if his snarl was anything to go by, he stuffed the boy's underwear down his throat, gagging him.
Zachariah raised a brow. "Excuse me, sir, but this is just Dean we're talking about. He's pathetic, why would we need to prepare for him?"
"On top of the fact that Dean has been known to be ferociously protective of his little brother, he's actually not the man I'm talking about."
The three men peeked at each other from the corner of their eyes.
"My little brother will be coming with him," Michael admitted. "And Gabriel used to be a freelance mercenary right up until five years ago when he switched over to the Coast Guards." He pondered his little brother's ability to actually defeat him, if given the chance.
In all honesty, he had seen Gabriel once since his brother had left home halfway through high school, stuck up in a tiff because of the family rivalry between Michael and their second oldest brother, Lucifer.
When they had met for the first and last time in a long while, it had been at Lucifer's funeral. A tragic death, really.
Michael hadn't meant to be so brutal. He wouldn't apologize for it, or for leaving Lucifer to be discovered in a graveyard, but he honestly hadn't meant to be so vicious.
Gabriel had stood across from him, on the other side of the coffin, and the look in his hazel eyes had said it all. The Law hadn't been able to prove him to be the murderer, but Gabriel knew him and he knew how he and Lucifer had been. His younger brother had glared at him the entire time, no brotherly love to be found, and the moment he threw his white rose on the descending casket, he had left.
Tonight had been the first time in many years that he had spoken to him.
Michael sat down on the side of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath him. Sam tensed and he watched him try fruitlessly to curl into himself, trying to protect his already wrecked body. His strapped legs pulled together and he observed the blue tint that had erupted around his knees where blood circulation had been cut off. One leg jerked and a pained gasp escaped Sam, broken bones grinding together no doubt.
Imagine his surprise when he had been skimming through the boy's phone, thinking to find someone who could find his little one for him, only to find Gabriel's phone number and the ID picture depicting him and Sam kissing.
He pondered whether or not to touch the boy now but he found himself still too angry to even consider it. If he touched Sam now…
He'd do worse than kill him. He would make him beg to die and then… he would deny him. He would leave him, broken and alive on the bed for both their brothers to find him.
Dean would deserve no less.
Michael had made a promise to him, to never leave him alone. As long as Dean kept his interest, that was. And yet, here he was, without his little one.
Why had Dean rebelled? Why? All had been going well, yes? No… Three days ago, he had sensed it, that Dean's attention had been split. When his little one had met his gaze, there had been another man behind those beautiful green eyes.
So Dean had left him for another… Dean had abandoned him.
And if Sam hadn't walked unknowingly into his midst, Michael doubted he would have found his little one again so soon. Of course, Sam wouldn't know where Dean was. Obviously. And Gabriel might not either. But Gabriel could find him.
And, if Gabriel wanted his little lover back, he would have to.
Michael eyed the naked expense of the boy, all solid muscle and cuteness, somehow. All Gabriel's, defiled by all that was Michael.
"Did you know that, boy?" he spoke to the restrained Winchester. "Did you know that your lover used to be a killer? Did he ever tell you about his family, about me and the brother that I murdered?"
He waited for any telltale sign that Sam understood what he was saying or that he knew what he was talking about.
"Did you tell him about abandoning your brother to the likes of me? Because, if you haven't caught on yet, Dean wouldn't have turned to me had you stayed." Then he questioned his own logic. "But then you wouldn't have met Gabriel, my brother. And I wouldn't have Dean." His fingers drummed the sheets mere inches from Sam's side. "It all circles back to you, though, doesn't it? What would have happened and what did happen, all determined by you." He thought back on fonder times. "I suppose this has been a terrible night for you. I wonder if this gives you some insight on what your big brother has been going through for the past two years."
The kid hadn't cried while they had tortured him. He'd been surprisingly strong about that. He had screamed twice only, the first time during the initial two-man penetration and the second time when Michael had been on the phone while Raphael had broken Sam's leg.
Michael watched with some fascination as tears dampened the young man's blindfold, a solitary salty crystal seeping beneath the cloth to trail desolately down his cheek. His adams apple bobbed and his shoulders shook for just a moment. Only a moment. And then he sucked in a deep breath through his nose and he stopped reacting again.
He looked from him to his men and nodded solemnly. "I want you two," he stared at Zachariah and Uriel, "downstairs waiting for their arrival. One at the front door and another at the back door. Call me the moment someone arrives, whether or not Dean is with them."
They left without a word. Michael turned to Raphael who looked loyally back at him. "They'll die," he admitted without remorse. Raphael nodded, as if he had also realized this. "Dean, for all his fragility, knows how to fight, gun or not. Gabriel is a force all his own, a trickster in a fight. Between the two of them, they will destroy Zachariah and Uriel."
"Yes, sir."
"Are you wondering why I haven't sent you to your death?"
"Yes, sir."
"Because they will most likely come with a third man." He retracted that. "Or a woman. This person is the one who most likely got Dean to revolt in the first place. The moment you see this person, I want you to shoot to kill." He didn't explain how Raphael would recognize said person. Obviously, it would be the person who Dean would cling to. His tawny eyes swirled violently. "If Dean loses his dependency on me now, he will come after me to murder me." He looked back to Sam. "Dean will end me if he learns of what I did to his brother. Making him alone again will give me leverage over him. As long as he needs me, he will listen to me."
Always a strategist, he stood and went to the window, looking out at the afternoon sky. "And if he will listen to me, Gabriel will be at a disadvantage."
"Yes, sir." Raphael, such a wonderful puppet, bobbed his head and then left as well, going to situate himself at a window till he got a call saying where to locate his prey.
He would use one bullet and end the life of whomever it was that took his little one away. If that person came, that was.
Knowing Dean and his attractions to strength, his abductor would more than likely not think twice about coming along for the rescue party.
~ :: ~
Gabriel had an arsenal in the trunk of his '66 Ford Mustang GT Convertible.
Dean would have been impressed had it been under different circumstances. Or during a different time. Maybe if he'd been a different person and he hadn't learned all in about a minute that his little brother was indeed alive, well, in love, and then in the hands of his psychopathic Mas–
He shook his head. No more thinking like that, Cas had told him that. Cas had said, "Dean, you have no Master. You are your own person." Dean had to believe that.
But, no, still, Sam was with Michael. Michael was most likely with his gang. Michael and his gang never really treated people nicely.
Dean wasn't sure whether he was pissed off at everyone in the world including himself or just freaked out as all Hell. Could he save Sam in time? Could he even be strong for Sam anymore? Could he honest to God, stand up to the same man who had supported him over the past two years for the little brother he hadn't seen for a little over three years?
Hell, that wasn't even his biggest concern.
More than anything else, he was terrified shitless of what Sam would think of him. Dean, the big brother, fallen so low he'd become a toy for a criminal. Dean, the big brother… not protecting his little brother when it mattered.
And the longer they stood around Gabriel's car, Gabriel showing Cas how to use a gun correctly while shaking like a leaf (because he failed the first two times to put the safety off; withdrawal symptoms were just playing havoc with his body), the more antsy and afraid he became.
Would Sam even want to see him again? After all, Sam was the one to leave. That meant that something had been wrong about Dean, right? Something about Dean had driven him away, just like something about him had gotten everyone he'd ever loved killed and attracted Michael –
He grabbed onto the bumper of the car as he bent over double, gagging. He was slick with cold sweat and shaking.
He couldn't do it. For so many goddamned reasons, he couldn't do it… but then he thought of Sam's wellbeing and he knew that he had to do it. But, damn, what if he screwed up? What if Sam died, what if he was hurt so bad he'd never heal? What if he got Gabriel or Cas – Cas of all people – killed?
"Dean?" Like an angel in disguise, Cas was there, dirty trench coat flaring around his heels as he shoved the gun he was currently re-learning into Gabriel's arms and surrounded the Winchester in his embrace, pressing up against his back. "Dean, are you alright?"
Nonononononono – "No…" He was going to go in there and save Sam, no matter what. Because he was the big brother and big brothers did everything they could to protect their little brothers. Everything and anything, no matter how big or small the sacrifices. He'd give or take and live or die for Sam, just for Sam.
And then he thought of Michael. Michael had been all he had had in the past two years, could he turn away from that? For Sam, Hell yeah, but could he kill Michael? Or even stand by and watch him be killed? If they killed him, then…
Then Dean would be alone again. Because Cas had a life of his own and if Sam came out of this alive, he'd go back with Gabriel and Dean would have nobody.
Cas must have been a fantastic mind reader because Dean said none of this and yet he still seemed to understand exactly what was going on with the Winchester.
He turned him around and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, like a pact, a freaking vow. Like they were getting married or sealing their souls together, all searing lips and questing tongues, deep presses and soundless words.
"Whatever happens tonight, Dean," Cas said as he pulled away, mouth bruised and a string of saliva between them, "I will always protect you."
"But you could die – "
"And I would still be with you, never leaving you alone." His sincere, intense, yet hazy blue eyes found Dean's green gaze. "You don't need him anymore. You'll never need him again."
"Cas…"
"Dean."
He wrapped his arms around the officer's shoulders and dragged them as close together as physically possible, just wanting to draw strength from his broken and unbreakable (strange how that was, right?) ally. Could they be considered lovers yet? Just friends? Definitely not brothers, but they were something.
Gabriel cleared his throat and glared at the both of them. Cas had taken a moment earlier to tell Dean that his boss was actually funny, but Dean hadn't seen any of that since before the call. This guy in front of him wasn't funny, he was bloodthirsty.
If it had been someone else's blood but Michael's, Dean would have been too.
"Let's go save Sammy," Dean whispered at last when he wasn't shaking.
"Let's go save Samuel," Cas agreed with a brief nod,who seemed to have taken Dean's shaking onto himself. Was he honestly going to take Cas along with him, him suffering withdrawal? He guessed so and that made it all hurt a little bit more.
"Then get in the damn car! Jeez, you want me to do everything for you two? My sweetheart needs me, thank you very much!"
Dean wondered whether or not, if he had been in a better mind, he would have liked Gabriel or tried to kill him for bedding his brother.
~ :: ~
Zachariah saw the headlights first. He spared a small moment to contact Michael via cell phone and then he raised his gun to take out the driver, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the twin lights.
He fired off three rounds, hearing the satisfying shatter of glass. The car came to a slow halt.
Now he just had to wait for any survivors. In the brief second he had the thought, it occurred to him that, maybe, he had shot Dean.
Michael would never let him live that down. Then again, Michael wouldn't kill him… Zachariah was too valuable to him.
He waited for nearly seven minutes, staring at the still vehicle till his vision danced with black spots and blurred. Why hadn't anyone come out?
Then again, there might have been only one person. Maybe just Dean to the rescue, this fabled Gabriel staying away. Or maybe it was Gabriel who had been unable to find Dean.
Caught up in thoughts, he frowned.
By the time he realized that Castiel had been standing directly behind him for the past three minutes, fumbling with the safety while also frowning, mouthing something along the lines of "please stop shaking, body", it was too late.
Cas shot off before Zachariah could raise his own pistol.
~ :: ~
Castiel looked down at the fallen body with something close to heartache, and definitely something of a headache. He had signed up for the Coast Guard to save people, not to kill them. But here he was, ending lives.
He countered the fuzzy, dark thoughts of guilt and self-hatred with cold hard facts. This man had, at one point, raped and tortured and used Dean. And he might have done most of the same things to Sam, albeit over a much shorter period of time. And, honestly, Cas wasn't really sure if he liked this Samuel yet.
Sam had abandoned Dean. But Dean loved Sam enough to overcome his dependency on (and terror of) Michael. In Castiel's mind, that put him somewhere between a traitor and a decent man. And, well, his superior was in love with Sam, so that put him closer to being a decent man.
Somewhat over his actions, he turned on his heel and returned to Gabriel and Dean at the back door, a man's body lying bloodily on the floor.
He had said something about silencers on guns still not actually being that quiet. And then he'd slit the man's throat when he had come outside to investigate the rustling among the wrecked cars (AKA, Dean acting as bait, which had not pleased Castiel at all).
Dean looked up at him, scanning him with those soul-stealing green eyes, like he had to make sure that Castiel was okay. To assure him, he slid his hand over his left shoulder.
Unbelievable, how comforting that was to the shattered soul.
The moment was (for a good reason) ruined as Gabriel cut them a glare, telling them to keep moving or else he'd go on without them.
Dean led them to the second floor, him being the only one of them to know the house, and they edged their way carefully down the hallway. Gabriel and Castiel were looking from door to door for the enemy and for Sam. Dean just kept walking forward with a hard glare, knowing without bothering to tell them exactly where to go.
He was heading towards the end of the hall, eyes focused on a shut door with no light filtering out from its creases, unlike the majority of other rooms.
Castiel watched this man, the man who stalked down the hall like a trained predator, his every move slow and sinewy, as if he were a huge cat. Muscles rippled and he didn't make a sound, there was nothing small or brittle about him.
In that moment, Dean was strong. A bit pale, hands not the surest, but Castiel was seeing a superhero now in the Winchester. A superhero that was steadily coming back into his powers.
Despite the situation and the unfamiliarity of their relationship, he couldn't help but grin and feel proud. Now he understood why Pride was such a sin.
It was getting to his head and all he could think was: 'If I weren't here, he wouldn't be so resolute.' Dangerous thinking, that. If he considered Dean in that light, in that sort of dependency, he would be no better than this mysterious Michael. So he turned his thoughts to something else - not how damn much he wanted a fix right now. Not that. The situation was too serious for that.
Behind him, Gabriel snapped around. Whatever for, Castiel wasn't sure until his superior threw himself on top of him, forcing them both down to the ground and drawing Dean's attention immediately to them.
The door Castiel had been standing in front of, about to check, became checkered in bullet holes, hardly a sound following them except for the crack of wood and violation of plaster.
"Cas – " Dean looked at him with desperate eyes, all of that majestic power leaving him in one nanosecond of terror.
"I'm fine," he assured, pushing Gabriel off of him, though gently because the man had just saved his life. "I'll take care of this." He thought it a bit too unoriginal to tell them to 'go on without him'. After all, they were just going another two doors down.
They were hardly abandoning each other.
Even Dean seemed to realize that because he just nodded, gulped, and kissed Castiel one last time before following Gabriel to that last room. The door splintered beneath their combined weight and whatever happened in that room, Castiel wouldn't know.
He had someone else to deal with. Hopefully, he wouldn't fail. He gave his shaking hands a hard look. Don't Fail, he told his own body. His thoughts cleared a little and that was helpful at least.
The destroyed panel of wood between him and his attacker gave with a screeching cry, one of the bullets having ricocheted off of the bottom hinge.
A man was waiting for him in there, polishing the muzzle of his gleaming gun. He looked up as Castiel entered and there was no particular emotion in his eyes. "I thought you might have survived. You… your name wouldn't happen to be Gabriel, would it?"
"No."
"Then you're the man who abducted Dean."
He didn't particularly like that wording, but… "Yes."
"I have to kill you."
He hadn't expected any less.
Now he just had to get his hands to cooperate all over again before the man decided to stop buffing his piece.
~ :: ~
What Gabriel saw… he just…
No. That wasn't his Sammy, couldn't be. But it was, wasn't it? No… Yes.
His moose-y angel was strapped down to a four-poster bed, a victim. His giant of a sweetheart was helpless. And, holy shit, were those his boxers down his throat? Was that jizz and blood on his thighs, were those bruises and burns on his skin? Was his leg fucking broken? And what the Hell was with all the belts, all of it, just shit!
No, no, no. Not cool, man. Not in the least.
Dean choked next to him and dropped his gun. He might have at one point known how to scope a room before letting go of his weapon, but time and abuse had dulled him, fear ripping the last of his wisdom away from him.
It was reasonable, then, that Gabriel saw Michael in the corner of the room first, gun on Dean. "Dean, DUCK."
The Winchester didn't so much as hit the deck as throw himself over Sam's prone body, mouth to his ear and saying things Gabe couldn't make out from his place at the door.
It wasn't like he would have been able to hear him anyway. Michael's gun didn't have a silencer and the house itself didn't die quietly as bullets drilled into its walls. Gabriel dropped to the ground, rolled, and then came up on the safe side of a large oak wardrobe. Dean was at the mattress, untying Sam in the flurry.
Michael was closer to the two than Gabe was, but his spot wasn't as safe. If he so much as lifted his gun, Gabriel would have a clean shot.
"Gabriel, good to see you again."
"I wish I could say the same thing."
"I'm sorry about your lover. It's nothing personal, we didn't even know he was yours till I looked at his contacts."
That pissed him off. Sure, he'd referred to Sam as his before in the past. But hearing Michael say it, call Sam his, it made him feel disgusted.
Michael let the words roll off his tongue like he was talking about an object, like he'd accidentally stolen Gabe's microwave for God's sake, and was trying to play it off as not even knowing it had been Gabriel's to begin with.
"You…" There it was, fury in Dean's eyes. "You sick son of a bitch. I'll fucking kill you!"
Gabriel would have grinned, would have, had it been under different circumstances. 'Good boy'. He was getting there. Somewhere deep inside that repressed spirit, there was a Dean Winchester who was tough as nails, he just knew it.
Michael sighed. "My little one… I had hoped it wouldn't end this way."
The moment Gabriel saw his forearm as he aimed to kill, he shot. Michael cursed as the gun was shot out of his hand, but it was only after a first 'bang!' had sounded.
Thank God Dean just managed to drag Sam off the bed.
"You have another gun over there, Mikey?" Gabriel purred. He watched as Sam tore off his blindfold and gag, Dean ushering him under the bed. He had a flesh wound, right upper arm. But he would be fine. "What a shame, I thought you were better than that. We haven't even started the fight yet and somehow you're down one!"
"Gabriel, no one appreciates your narrating," Michael growled. There was a tell-tale click of another gun.
"Don't worry. You don't have much more time to not appreciate it anyway."
Author's Note: Too much drama or not enough?
EDIT: I edited this chapter because I had a reviewer who pointed out with a long list of cold facts that I really wasn't helping my case by having an incompetent gun-using Castiel. But then she/he mentioned drug effects and that was when I realized I made another mistake. Cas is quitting cold turkey, that can't be enjoyable. So he's suffering withdrawal instead of being gun-stupid. I actually prefer it this way. If you see something that offends you or just isn't researched well enough and it shows, please don't be afraid to tell me.
