Title: Tastes Like Forgiveness

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 5,500 this chapter – 36,500 total

Summary: Season 7 AU. After releasing Leviathan, Castiel is pulled from the reservoir fully human. With only the men he betrayed to rely on, Castiel does anything he can to redeem himself, especially to Dean.

Spoilers: End of season 6, throughout season 7

Warnings: Spanking, CBT, humiliation, angst, everyone's mean to Cas, potential domestic abuse triggers

AN: Things start looking up…? Sort of. Also, BOBBY!

"I really don't think I should be here," Castiel said, shifting from one foot to the other on top of a barren rooftop in the blazing afternoon sun. He'd learned that his white skin burned easily, leaving him with embarrassingly red skin that ached even when he didn't touch it. That concern was only a niggling distraction though compared to his present predicament.

"Stop thinking so loud. You're making too much background noise," Bobby said in the voice Castiel had become so familiar with, grouchy, crotchety, and mean. Bobby readjusted the equipment he was working with, angling the large hearing dish better toward the window where Dick Roman was meeting with the doctor from Sioux Falls General Hospital.

Castiel paced behind Bobby, holding the sawed off shotgun Dean had thrust into his hands, telling him gruffly not to shoot himself in the foot with it. Castiel wanted to think he wasn't that inept, but wouldn't put it past himself. He handled the gun very carefully.

"I don't know why you brought me," Castiel continued, ignoring Bobby's earlier warning about background noise. "Dean never brings me on hunts. I am not very useful."

"All you gotta do is watch my back," Bobby said absently, his eyes glued to the window. "Yell if you see anyone. Or shoot them."

Castiel eyed the shotgun in his hands. He was aware of the concept. He had even used one successfully before, shooting a human infected with the croatoan virus before it managed to bite Sam. But he had not used one since then, and doubted he'd be so lucky a second time. Nonetheless, he kept his eyes darting around the rooftop, hoping nothing would come along.

"You know," Bobby said, turning away momentarily so he didn't have to watch the results of a Leviathan being 'bibbed.' "Just because you lost all your mighty angel powers, don't mean you're totally useless. Us puny humans get by pretty OK."

"You have many years of practice."

"Then get some damn practice. Don't go moping about what you don't have, and think about what you do. You got a young, healthy body there. Train it to be better."

"How?"

"Gee, I don't know," Bobby said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe ask those two idjits that defeated the devil? They may know a thing or two."

"You mean the two 'idjits' that hate me and barely talk to me?" Castiel asked, throwing back a little sarcasm of his own. Having spent more time with Bobby, he was starting to like him. Though maybe that was because Bobby wasn't any meaner to him than he was to Sam or Dean.

"Now you listen here-" Bobby said, turning away from the window again to give Castiel a piece of his mind, but then his eyes went wide and he shouted. "Look out!"

Castiel spun around, the shotgun in hand, and let off a wild shot, right into the face of a leviathan, blowing most of its head off. The other one beside it yelled, and then had its head shot open by Bobby. Within seconds though, both monsters were already healing.

"Run!" Bobby shouted, and Castiel was never happier to obey an order, nor faster.

While the leviathans healed, Castiel and Bobby ran as fast as they could to the fire escape, tumbling down the stairs almost head over feet, and dashing back to the safety of the van where Dean and Sam where waiting for them.

As soon as Bobby and Castiel were safely in the van, Dean drove off, as the two leviathans, plus a few more, pounded out to the parking lot, giving chase. Dean peeled out of the lot, and didn't slow down until they were halfway back to their safe house.

"Did you find out anything?" Dean asked once all their adrenaline had stopped pumping quite so furiously.

"No. Didn't have enough time. Saw some interesting looking papers on Dick's desk, but couldn't make 'em out through my scope."

"Damnit."

"You know, you oughta train Cas with that gun. He hit a leviathan by chance, but you can't count on that. He could be good back up," Bobby said, his words, though full of reasonable advice, carried a tone of disapproval, directed at Dean.

Castiel felt himself warming up further toward Bobby as the man praised him, in a way. As much as Bobby Singer ever praised anyone. Even if it was misguided, it felt nice.

"Yeah. When I have a spare minute from saving the fucking planet. Again," Dean said.

Castiel knew he wouldn't be getting gun training. Or combat training. Or anything else that could make him an effective hunter. Some part of him was insulted, the part that used to be a soldier, and a good one. But another part of him was glad to be freed of the burden. While Bobby had relaxed after their run to the car, Castiel's heart was still beating wildly, and his hands shook, still feeling the kick of the gun. What if Bobby hadn't turned around in time? What if the leviathan had hurt them? Or killed them? Being part of the hunt, the on the ground work that Dean and Sam did was much too terrifying while he was so fragile and mortal.

With Bobby settled in at Rufus' old hunting cabin, setting up their main camp there, the Winchesters plus Castiel were off on the road again. Castiel idly wondered why he was taken along again. The night before, Bobby had grumbled out an offer to Dean, for Castiel to stay in the cabin with him. But, Castiel was woken the next morning, told to be ready within an hour, and that was that. They were moving again, and the small reprieve from Dean's punishments, brought on by the close quarters with Bobby, ended.

Castiel found himself being punished almost once a week, and he sometimes suspected it wasn't because of mistakes, but because Dean just wanted to spank him, to remind him of his place. Dean made up his own rules, wouldn't tell Castiel, and expected the former angel to know them anyway, and punished him when he didn't.

Castiel got spanked for not knowing Dean wanted to wake up early one morning to get in extra time for driving. He got spanked for buying Dean the cheapest razors he could find, which Dean had requested, but didn't realize that he meant the cheapest ones with a triple blade. He got spanked for showering first and getting the floor wet.

Castiel should have been infuriated by Dean's lack of consistency, leaving him unable to learn the rules and improve himself. But due to the exhilarating and guilty pleasure he received from Dean's hand, leaving him with raging hard-ons that he discreetly rubbed into the mattress as he was spanked, he hardly considered it punishment anymore. In fact, he had to be careful not to look too eager when Dean ordered him to drop his pants and lie on the bed. He had to be careful not to moan too wantonly as the blows fell. And he had to be careful to hide his erection as he stumbled to the bathroom after each groin tightening session.

The only thing that was irritating was how unpredictable it would be. Castiel never knew when he would get his punishment, or for what, as the infractions were unknowable, unless Dean seemed to be in the mood for it.

Which gave Castiel the idea to start breaking rules that he really knew would get Dean angry.

Castiel was nudged awake with a boot in his side, not hard, but jarring, and he jerked awake to look up at Dean's angry green eyes as the hunter loomed over him in the early morning light.

"Did you forget something last night, Castiel?" Dean asked with a low growl in his voice. And Castiel knew he was in trouble when Dean used his full name like that. He blinked up owlishly at Dean, feigning confusion and sleepiness, when in fact, his pulse was already starting to race, and all his senses were on high alert in anticipation.

"Forget?" he parroted, still feigning confusion.

"You've got three jobs every night. Fill the Impala, check the wards, and…?"

"Clean the guns," Castiel murmured, lowering his eyes, trying his best to look contrite.

"You know how important it is to clean the guns. I can't have them jamming in the middle of a hunt. Do you want my gun to jam in the middle of a hunt?"

"No. I'm sorry. I don't know why I forgot. I'll clean them now."

"You'll clean them after," Dean said, and nodded toward his bed.

Quickly and obediently, Castiel went to lie down on Dean's bed, loosening and lowering the pajama bottoms he'd been sleeping in. His hands were trembling, shaking as he untied the cord at his waist, and he hoped Dean recognized it as trepidation, rather than anticipation.

"You're getting thirty today," Dean said, as he sat down on the bed next to Castiel's hip. "Because you should definitely know better about the guns. But today, I don't want to hear a sound out of you. If you make a sound, I'll give you forty smacks. Understand?"

Castiel nodded, his heart leaping up into his throat at the promise of a longer punishment, and perhaps even a compounded one if he disobeyed again. He pondered whether he should let out a sound on purpose or not. He wondered if he would be able to orgasm, just from being spanked, or if he would still need the extra stimulation of his hand afterwards. It was much too risky to try though, so he decided he would do his best not to make a sound.

Dean set to work on him quickly, and Castiel caught a small gasp in his throat from the first smack. Dean's smacks were even, well paced, and hard, rocking Castiel's body against the mattress, grinding his cock into the sheets. Already, he was growing hard, his erection jammed beneath his body as the heat of Dean's hand spread through him. He allowed himself harsh, panting breaths, but bit back every moan and gasp Dean's hand tried to pull from him.

It was harder than he had expected. Before, he'd always had the outlet of noise for his punishment. Dean had always allowed him to cry out and gasp and moan. Initially, it had been from pain, but Castiel discovered that the sounds elicited by pain and ecstasy were similar enough, that Dean couldn't tell the difference when his noises had changed. He was no longer biting back his cries out of pride, but rather to hold back the tide of heat washing over him.

Now, he was forced to be silent, when all he wanted to do was writhe and moan, grinding his cock into the mattress as Dean turned his cheeks a fiery red. Afraid he would bite through his own lip, Castiel shoved his hand into his mouth, biting down on his knuckles. He choked back his groans, taking deep breaths to stifle them.

As the spanking rounded twenty smacks, and passed it, Castiel was having a harder time holding back his noises. His whole body felt on fire as his punishment, his pleasure, went on longer than usual. He could feel his cock pulsing, and dripping through the front of his pajamas, surely staining them. Just one more thing to hide from Dean.

He shut his eyes and bit his knuckles harder, bracing against Dean's hand, and trying to keep count for when it would be over, for when he could finally limp into the bathroom and relieve the pressure Dean had no idea he was causing.

When Dean laid down the thirtieth smack, he left his hand resting on Castiel's heated cheeks. Castiel let out a shaky breath as the punishment finally ended. His body was tight, and strung out, and he was anxious for the order to get off the bed, to get permission to take his shower.

"You took that well," Dean murmured, pinching Castiel's burned cheek. Castiel flinched, and his cock jumped underneath him, but he still didn't make a sound. "You're getting used to this. You don't even cry anymore."

Castiel remained silent, though he looked at Dean curiously. Dean didn't usually speak after his punishment, aside from the order to move. Dean was looking back at Castiel, studying him, and Castiel felt himself grow even hotter under the man's intense gaze.

"Maybe I should start using a belt instead of my hand. What do you think?" Dean asked.

Castiel closed his eyes, thinking about the feeling of a leather belt lashing his cheeks and thighs, striping him red, lancing pain and pleasure into his skin. His cock throbbed in response to the image, the thought of it alone exciting him to the point that he shivered.

"I wouldn't hit you as much. Maybe only ten times," Dean said, his voice soothing, and softer, and Castiel realized he'd mistaken the shiver of pleasure, for one of fear. He found it curious that Dean would say something so comforting.

"You can do as you like," Castiel said, words that came easily to his mouth now, to show his humility, to beg forgiveness for his sins.

"I'll think about it. Go ahead and shower. But don't take so damn long, or I'll spank you again."

Castiel nodded and sat up carefully, well practiced in keeping his body turned away from Dean as he adjusted his pants and tugged down his shirt. He moved quickly to the bathroom, and knew that his shower would be quick as he reached down to fist his cock through the thin cotton of his pajama bottoms. It would only take a few strokes this time.

Castiel had to be very careful about his intentional mistakes. Too often, and Dean would become suspicious, thinking he was being intentionally willful, or really too incompetent to keep around. And if any of his mistakes were too grand, too sacred, Dean might do something worse than spank him, and he couldn't be sure he would like it. For example, when he was given a task involving the Impala, he dared not mess it up.

His mistakes had to be small, and irregularly scheduled, so he spent most of his free time trying to think of ways to get punished by Dean, so he could control the frequency and know when to expect it. He found it made him less nervous and anxious about his tasks, knowing that he would earn Dean's punishment on his own terms, and not be so caught off guard.

Of course, occasionally, he still made real mistakes, but he didn't feel as angry about the whimsy of Dean's anger, knowing he could bring it on when he wished to get what he wanted.

For several weeks, it was a perfect system.

Castiel was popping the button of his jeans, ready to stretch out on Dean's bed. He had just been caught napping, on one of the beds, while Dean had been out hunting. It was going to be an extra long punishment, Dean said, because Castiel knew better, and had done it deliberately, thinking he wouldn't be caught.

Once Castiel was in the right position, Dean settled in beside him, habit overtaking him in his task. He palmed Castiel's ass for a moment, and then it began, hard, stinging, relentless, and Castiel reveled in it. The gasps of pleasure spilled from his lips, bitten back slightly, to mangle them into pained noises. His hips flexed and rolled, like he wanted to escape, avoid the hardness of Dean's hand, when really, all he wanted was more.

But suddenly, after fifteen smacks, Dean stopped, and pulled his hand away.

Castiel's breath caught, confusion and surprise overwhelming him. He turned his head to look at Dean questioningly, for stopping the punishment so early.

"Turn over," Dean said, his eyes hard, but a small grin tugging at his lips.

"What?" Castiel asked, panic suddenly welling up in him, like it hadn't in such a long time. He'd almost forgotten the feeling, and how it made his heart race and his guts roil.

"Turn over. Onto your back," Dean said. That grin was still tugging his lips, but his voice grew harder as his order was not immediately obeyed.

"W-why?" Castiel asked, trying to stall for time. He was achingly hard, his cock swollen and obvious in his underwear. If he moved to his back, there was no way Dean wouldn't notice.

"Because I told you to," Dean said, the threat evident in his voice.

Castiel whimpered. There was no escape. If he continued to refuse, he wasn't sure what Dean would do. Hurt him? Leave him? He had no good reason to stay on his stomach, no good reason to disobey, so finally, with his eyes clenched tightly shut, as if he could hide, he rolled over.

For several seconds, Castiel laid there, frozen solid with fear. He expected a sharp intake of breath when Dean saw his shameful state. He expected the hunter to be angry that Castiel had found some secret, perverted pleasure in his punishment. He expected recriminations, disgust, perhaps even laughter about his sorry state.

He did not expect Dean to grab his cock and give it a tight squeeze.

Castiel's eyes flew wide as his dick was grabbed, and he let out a gasp, followed by a helpless moan as Dean gripped him tightly. His eyes went wildly to Dean, seeing the hunter with his eyes focused at his groin, studying him intently. He looked a little angry, but not very surprised.

"You were napping on the bed on purpose, weren't you?" Dean asked, not taking his eyes off Castiel's groin. His hand remained there, gripping, but not moving.

"Yes," Castiel said quickly.

"And you've been doing this for awhile, haven't you?"

"Yes," Castiel said again, just as quickly, the confession coming easily to his lips.

"Did I tell you that you could get off on my punishment? That you could masturbate in the shower when I was finished with you?" Dean asked, his voice going lower, huskier.

"No… I'm sorry… But I thought-"

"Who told you to think?" Dean snapped, cutting him off. "I told you to obey me. Do everything I say. And instead, you're doing this," Dean said, with another tight squeeze.

"That's not how it started. I just want-"

"I know what you want. You want to be punished. Trust me. I am happy to oblige you. So, take off your pants, and your underwear, and spread your legs."

Castiel's breath caught when he heard that order, trying to understand it, but finding no answer. All he knew was that he was afraid of Dean's anger, and whatever new punishment he would do. He was quite certain he would not like it. Still, he had the audacity to ask; "Why?"

Dean looked for a moment like he wouldn't answer, since he usually didn't answer Castiel's questions, but then a truly wicked smile quirked his lips.

"Because your cock made a mistake. And when someone makes a mistake, they get spanked."

Castiel gulped, and shut his eyes against his own panic, a shiver overcoming him at the thought of Dean's harsh smacks connecting with his sensitive genitals. The thought of the hand on his ass was exciting, but that same pain between his legs… He was sure that he wouldn't find the activity quite as arousing.

But he knew he must. He had to give in to Dean. To obey him, to follow him. If he was ever to be forgiven, if he was ever to make himself useful to the hunter again, he had to endure whatever Dean asked of him.

So he did as told, and slipped his pants and underwear off. By now, the fear in his belly had caused his erection to wilt between his legs, leaving him limp and helpless. As instructed, he spread his legs as wide as the bed allowed and laid back, waiting for Dean's next move.

Dean watched as Castiel undressed and got himself into position, his eyes steady on the fallen angel, watching his limbs, studying his face, while his own expression was unreadable. Once Castiel was ready, Dean sat down on the foot of the bed, between Castiel's spread legs. He surveyed him more, and then pushed his legs even further apart, so that Castiel's feet slid off the bed, his ankles catching on the edge. Castiel felt a slight tension on his inner thighs, as the muscles stretched, but he didn't say anything, just waited.

"I'm going to give you ten smacks," Dean said slowly, leaning in closer to Castiel's groin. "If you try to close your legs, I'll give you fifteen. Do you understand?"

Castiel nodded, quickly and obediently, and Dean looked pleased by his response. Without another word, Dean raised his hand and brought it down hard on his genitals. Castiel could not help the shout of pain that surged up into his chest and burst out through his lips. His instinct was to slam his legs together, to protect this incredibly sensitive part of his body, but a niggling thought in the back of his mind warned him not to, and he strained to keep his legs spread.

Castiel cried out again as Dean slapped his cock, the sensitive flesh flopping between his legs helplessly. Dean took his time with each slap, letting the pain seep into Castiel, ebb through his body, and finally knot with a touch of nausea in his stomach, before the next blow fell.

Five slaps focused on Castiel's cock, slow and steady, as Dean smacked it from side to side, a small smile tugging his lips, and Castiel likened it to a cat playing with a mouse. But then Dean changed the angle of his hand, holding Castiel's cock out of the way with his other hand. He gave Castiel five, quick swats to his balls, each smack building up in a crescendo between his legs, barely giving Castiel time to breath between each slap. Castiel didn't notice the slaps had actually stopped because the pain still throbbed between his legs, fanning out to the rest of his body with a nerve tightening ache.

Suddenly, Dean's hand was knotted in Castiel's shirt front, and his vision swam as he was pulled upright, sitting face to face with Dean, who looked happier than Castiel had seen in a long time, even when he was being good and following orders.

"This is what I wanted to see," Dean said huskily as he looked at Castiel's face. It took Castiel a moment, but he realized he was crying again, the tears leaving cool tracks against his hot and embarrassed cheeks. It had been a long time since he last cried from Dean's ministrations.

Dean stood up, and looked down at Castiel. He gripped the other man's cheek and smeared the tears into his skin with his thumb. The gesture was gentle, after heat of punishment still burning between his legs. Castiel found himself lowering his head to lean into the touch.

That's when Castiel saw it, the prominent bulge in Dean's pants, straining against the tight material of his jeans like Castiel's own erection had not too long ago. Castiel looked up curiously at Dean, his face a mask of misunderstanding.

"You think you were the only one enjoying this?" Dean asked, and that old, devilish grin he'd once flashed almost daily appeared like a ghost on his lips. Castiel hadn't seen that grin in months. A grin he associated immediately with Dean, always reminding him too of that maverick wink he would wield expertly at cute waitresses. He'd missed that grin.

Castiel made a choice. He needed acceptance and affection, so without really thinking, he pushed his head forward and nuzzled into Dean's groin, rubbing his face against the heated bulge in the man's pants, and feeling how hard he was.

Dean groaned at the contact, and despite how surprising the action was for Castiel, Dean accepted it, and pushed back, grinding against the pressure of Castiel's face quickly and easily, like they had already done this a hundred times.

Castiel almost fell forward, most of his weight leaning against Dean, when the man pulled back. He watched, fascinated as Dean started undoing his belt, and then his button and zipper. He pushed his jeans down, bunched up with his underwear, and his cock sprang free, hard and heavy, only inches from Castiel's face.

"Open your mouth," Dean ordered, and Castiel obeyed quickly. The thrill of obeying, because he wanted to, surged through him as he parted his lips.

Dean quickly slid his cock into Castiel's eager mouth, and slid his hands into Castiel's hair to tug him forward and hold him close. Castiel made a small murmuring sound in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. The taste of Dean flooded his mouth, thick and musky from being tucked inside his pants all day. He wondered idly how Dean would taste right after a shower.

"Use your tongue, around the tip," Dean instructed, pulling back a little bit so that the tip of his dick was at the front of Castiel's mouth. Castiel nodded and did as told, working his tongue around the tip of Dean's cock, discovering the shape of him, and his sharp taste. He listened intently to the sounds Dean made, and noted which actions elicited them.

"Suck it. Watch your teeth. Put your tongue there…" Dean murmured soft, encouraging instructions, his voice unraveling easily in the room as Castiel listened avidly. This was what he'd wanted; simple, clear instruction. He wanted to be taught what to do, how to do it, how to be useful to Dean. If this was what Dean wanted from him, he was very happy to learn.

Soon, Dean's instructions fell to the wayside as his language faltered to grunts and moans. His hands tightened in Castiel's hair, and his hips quickened, starting to thrust in and out of Castiel's mouth. Occasionally, his cock would push too far, striking the back of Castiel's throat, and Castiel would gag. A rough choking noise would come up and tears would sting in his eyes.

"Swallow," Dean ordered. That was all the warning Castiel got before his mouth was flooded with come. He obeyed happily, swallowing it quickly, not wanting to spill. As the last pulse spattered his tongue, he considered the taste of Dean's semen, different from his own. He'd found his somewhat unpleasant the one time he had curiously licked a drop from his fingers.

Dean pulled his cock out slowly, and released Castiel's hair after giving it one final tug. He tucked himself away while still looking at Castiel, not breaking eye contact. His eyes were half-lidded, but dilated. He looked sated and relaxed.

"Good," Dean said softly, and it was the first praise Castiel had ever received for a task Dean asked him to perform.

He thought again of the taste of Dean's semen, compared to his own. It was bitter, and salty, but there was something else there, an odd flavor he didn't think one could taste, not with such limited senses afforded to the human body. But it was there nonetheless, even if it was just a hint, but surely it was forgiveness.

"You look like a microwaved turd," Dean said as Sam approached him in the diner for breakfast. Castiel had stayed behind in the motel. New to his human body, he wasn't used to the greasy food the Winchesters preferred in the morning, and usually ate something simple on his own.

Sam scowled at him, reached in his pocket, and slammed a bandana down on the counter. "Do me a favor and gag your boyfriend when you fuck him, OK?"

"Boyfriend? Fucking? What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's been bad enough having to listen to him moan like a bitch in heat, but now I get woken up from a dead sleep to hear him scream through the walls? No way. Gag him."

"Look, we're not-"

"I don't care what you're doing with him," Sam cut him off quickly. "You're the one who insisted he come with us, but that doesn't mean I have to deal with him, too. If you want to forgive him, fine. But I don't want to hear about it, OK?"

"I haven't forgiven him, Sam."

"You're getting close. I see the way you look at him, the way you treat him. You're forgetting what he did to me, Dean. What he did to us."

"I'm not forgetting. I'm just not as angry about it as you are. Dude made a mistake. He's trying to make up for it."

"Yeah, the whole motel heard how he's making up for it," Sam said, scowling at his brother.

"It's not what you think, Sammy."

"Just try to remember what he did to us, Dean. I can't stop you if you want to forgive him, just don't expect me to do the same."

"Here," Dean said, handing the bandana to Castiel after returning to the motel from canvassing the neighborhood with Sam, looking for information and leads. "It's a gift from Sam."

Castiel turned away from the research he was doing in order to look at the bandana. He looked dubiously at it, and then at Dean. "Why would Sam give me a present? And why this?" he asked, looking at the small square of red cloth with white and black paisleys.

"Apparently you've been disturbing his beauty sleep. He wants me to gag you during our evening activities."

Shame flooded into Castiel immediately, and he could feel his cheeks turning bright red. It was bad enough being subjected to Dean's punishment, painful and embarrassing, but to have Sam know as well that he was being so humiliated, was more than he could manage.

"You… You told him about it?" Castiel asked, feeling a momentary flash of anger rise up in him, perhaps even a small feeling of betrayal. Dean never mentioned it in front of Sam, and always waited until the other man left in order to dole out his punishment. He'd thought it was a secret. He'd thought that his suffering was private between him and Dean.

"No. Apparently you did. He said you 'moan like a bitch in heat' while we're fucking."

Castiel's head shot up, meeting Dean's eyes directly, his confusion clear and overwhelming. "Fucking?" he asked, because surely, he hadn't heard that correctly.

"Sam thinks we've been fucking whenever I spank you. You really have enjoyed getting your ass tanned this whole time, haven't you?"

"Not the first time…" Castiel offered, as a lame excuse.

"Right," Dean said, rolling his eyes. He was still annoyed that Castiel had been getting off on punishment since it began. "Well, this was his way of saying you're too loud. Especially last night. I can't have you keeping him up and off his game, so when it's time for punishment, put that on. Which brings me to another point; I need you to make nice with Sam."

"Sam's hatred towards me… I do not think it can be rectified. Being near him is a constant reminder of how I wronged him," Castiel said, forlornly. He wanted to be friends again with Sam, but knew it was nearly impossible. Sometimes, he wished he hadn't come out of the reservoir alive. Perhaps then, his death would have earned him some pity.

"Don't think. Just do it. Or we'll be making use of that gag sooner than you think."

"You… you can't punish me for that," Castiel argued, panicked by the unfairness. He had no way to control Sam's emotions. He couldn't force the other hunter to like him again, even if Dean threatened to punish him for it.

"Sure I can," Dean said cheerfully. "And I'll use this." From inside his coat, Dean pulled out a leather riding crop, and brandished it playfully at Castiel. "I saw it at a little novelty shop and thought of you."

"I don't know what to do with Sam," Castiel said, blanching at the sight of the small whip, shuddering at the thought of it working between his legs, sharp and unyielding. "He won't even look at me. Tell me what to do."

"Small steps, Cas. Make yourself useful to him like you did to me. Well," he paused, looking thoughtful and dangerous. "Not just like me. If you start sucking Sam off, I'll whip your cock until you pass out."

Castiel gulped hard at the threat, unsure if Dean was being serious or just teasing him. He was almost certain that Dean was just teasing, but he didn't want to risk it, so he set his mind to fixing his relationship with Sam.