Benny was down in the cellar where the barrels were stored. He heard cautious footsteps then Sam calling softly, "Benny may I come down?"

He hesitated before answering, remembering his conversation with Dean. "Sam it's dangerous down here. Go back upstairs."

Sam didn't listen; he came the rest of the way down and hurried right up to Benny hugging him tightly. "Benny, kiss me, you promised."

Benny bent Sam backward over a roughhewn table and kissed him deeply, tongue probing the boy's mouth as Sam eagerly twined his with Benny's. It was abruptly ended by Benny when he felt long fingers stroking his cock through the fabric of his trousers.

"Sam no, I talked to your brother and we have a gentleman's agreement. I'm allowed to court you but we can't do anything until Dean gives permission. Maybe tomorrow we could leave Whitechapel and go to lunch."

Sam looked down at the ill fitting shirt he was wearing and shook his head, "No, I don't belong in a nice place." He realized what he had just said, "Oh Benny I didn't mean…"

Benny gave a soft laugh, "It's alright Sam, I know my establishment is much better than most for Whitechapel but I'll never host royalty now will I?"

Sam wasn't sure how to answer so Benny kissed him again then took his hand, "I have a business to run. Sam you asked if I had work for you, how would you like to help Petra in the kitchen? She's a bit arthritic and would enjoy your nimble fingers peeling vegetables for her."

Sam lit up brighter than the candle on the wall behind him, "Really? What would I earn?"

"I would allow you and Dean free meals."

Sam threw his arms around him, "Thank you Benny."

…..

Dean leaned against the wall of the Drunken Pony, "What do you want, a fuck or a suck?" Plug grabbed Dean's face roughly, "I want to fuck that sweet bum you have stuffed in those pants, drop 'em now whore."

Dean wished he could have turned and then ripped the bastards face off but survival meant not drawing attention to himself. He tugging down his trousers and turned to the wall bracing for the assault. Dean felt Plugs dirty hands spread his ass open and spit hit his entrance.

The man reeked of unwashed clothing and body odor, a sour and gag inducing combination. Dean's keen sense of smell wasn't welcome at the moment but he thought of Sam and what the money would provide for him.

Plug centered his cock and rammed his way inside, he began fucking Dean so hard his body hit the wall with each thrust. Tears streamed down Deans face from the pain but he stayed quiet knowing it was better never to draw attention.

Some men were ashamed of their penchant for ass instead of pussy and Plug was one of those men. The solution was to punish the other male for enticing them and that was exactly what he did. As Plug shot his filth into Dean he slammed the prostitutes head against the brick, "You fucking bitch take that!"

Dean cried out as he crumpled to the garbage strewn ground, he took a boot to the ribs and that was when the wolf tried to break free. Even if Dean didn't will it that part of him would defend them at all costs, it was a built in safety mechanism.

He heard a thump and a body fall to the ground behind him, when Dean looked up there was a man in the shadows holding out his hand. A deep, gentle voice came from the darkness, "Are you badly hurt?"

Dean looked over at Plug lying in a dirty puddle of rainwater then back to the hand offered him, "I...I'm not sure."

There was a sigh and before he knew it someone was pulling him to his feet. "Either you are injured or not." Dean was yanked out of the alley and back inside the Drunken Pony. He was still dazed and allowed the stranger to pull him through the crowd to the stairs leading to the rooms for rent.

The stranger said, "Go on, show me which is yours." Dean clutched his ribs with one hand and held up his torn pants with the other. The stranger followed behind him and when Dean unlocked the door he came inside.

Dean was sure that another beating was coming, "Do you want to hit me as well?"

A lamp was lit and a soft glow filled the room, "Why do you enjoy being struck like a cur?"

"No I do not enjoy being struck."

Dean turned and finally got a look at him, the stranger was shorter than he was by a few inches, handsome and very serious looking. He stepped closer and saw the flared nostrils, tight lips and pretty blue eyes that Dean imagined would be even prettier in the sunlight. He seemed very fit and even with the poor clothing he held himself with an air of dignity.

A trickle of blood dripped into Dean's thick sweep of eyelashes, Castiel pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to the head wound, "Apply pressure and don't stop." He guided Dean toward the bed to sit but he pulled away stumbling to the floor.

"No I'm disgusting; I don't want Sam sleeping in my filth."

Castiel knelt beside him and in the glow from the lamp he got a closer look at his damsel in distress. Even with his face covered in blood and grime his big green eyes shone through. The most beautiful eyes Castiel had ever seen, there were many things inside the pools of emerald such as a world weariness that a boy his age shouldn't have and underneath that was something exciting, dark and enticing.

He pulled out another handkerchief, spit on it and wiped a smear of soot off the boys face. A constellation of freckles appeared much to his delight, he adored freckles. All of that combined with the plush lips, fine features and pretty, white teeth made Castiels heart beat quickly. This strange creature was stunning and the Inspector would never forget him.

"What is your name?"

"Dean…do you carry a huge stock of white hankies in all your pockets?"

Castiel snapped out of his dream, "No I don't but a man should always have several on his person at all times. Dean you need to bathe thoroughly, inside and out. That beast that harmed you looked as if he carried sickness with him and I can't afford you getting an infection."

Dean smiled despite his split lip, "You can't afford it…why?"

Castiel stood, "I have to go I'm working. Is there someone I can send to your room to help bathe you and tend your injuries?"

"Sam, he should be in the tavern. He's very tall, young, slender and handsome."

Castiels blue eyes glanced to the bed then back to Dean, "Fine I'll find Sam."

…..

Benny stuck his head in the kitchen where Sam was busy scrubbing a large kettle, "Sam there's a man out here that says you need to tend to your brother."

Sam dropped everything and hurried out, Castiel stopped him before he bolted for the stairs but it wasn't easy. Sam almost dragged the much smaller man along with him.

"You are Sam?"

"Yes what happened?"

"Your brother was raped and beaten by a man called Plug. He needs his wounds tended to and a thorough scrubbing. From the looks of it I doubt you can afford a doctor." Castiel pulled out a coin purse and took out a bill pressing it in Sam's hand. He turned and left without another word.

Benny had silently stepped up behind Sam and grasped his shoulders, "Did he say Plug hurt your brother?"

Sam looked back with tears in his eyes, "Yes, I have to go and help Dean." Benny watched Sam run up the stairs. He hated Plug, was falling for Sam and respected his brother. Benny decided this week was a good time to go hunting; he had been feeling a bit peckish anyway.

…

Castiel stalked down the garbage strewn street lost in his own thoughts. He felt a fool for the emotions that welled up inside of him when he saw Dean's beautiful face. Emotions that he thought were long dead. Castiel couldn't compete with his lover Sam. He never bothered to ask who Sam was exactly. The pair shared a bed and looked nothing alike; the Inspector was going on emotion instead of facts. Something he rarely did.

"Sam is younger, taller, vibrant and handsome, everything I'm not. Why would I think Dean would be alone? Prostitute or not, someone that looks like an angel would have a lover the same. Not someone short, dark, dull and strange as I am. Castiel you are a misfit in this world."

A group of men walked past him and Castiel, lost in his thoughts, accidently bumped one with his shoulder. He mumbled "sorry" and kept going until the man he hit yelled to him, "Little man get back here and apologize properly."

Castiel was in no mood, he turned and snarled, "I said I was sorry now fuck off."

His two friends snickered and one goaded him on, "Well you better fuck off Jim, the little bugger said so."

Jim headed right for Castiel with big ham fists balled up spoiling for a fight. Castiel marched up to him and punched the ruffian right in the nose; blood spurted between his fingers as he staggered backward. "You son of a…"

Castiel pointed the head of his walking stick at Jim and gave him a warning, "If you say "bitch" you are referring to my mother and for that I will take your balls."

Jim's friends stopped their laughing and the three tried to judge if indeed the smaller man could take their balls. They all decided that yes, perhaps he could. They left after throwing a few half hearted insults.

….

Sam had heated buckets of water and carried them to a room off the kitchen where a big tub held Dean. Sam had already scrubbed him once while Dean protested being treated like a child. When Sam left to get more water Dean busied himself trying to scrub his blood from the stranger's two handkerchiefs.

He noticed a monogram on each, C.J.N., Dean recalled how handsome his hero was. He was strong, brave and capable, despite the man's slight stature Dean sensed he was an alpha, the one that could make Dean his happy bitch.

Dean played at the role of leader for Sam's sake but in his heart he was like Sam. Wanting someone to take care of him, and in return he would give every shred of his being, both man and wolf. The right man would own every inch of Dean Winchester.

Sam snatched away one of the stained handkerchiefs, "Did that odd, handsome man give you this?"

Dean looked up at his brother wide eyed. Sam thought Dean looked like a child that had seen the most marvelous creature in the world. "He saved me Sammy, I was close to changing and killing that man and then it would be over for us…this man came out of nowhere and took the brute down in an instant. He was so brave and strong, fearless!"

He handed the wet handkerchief back and Dean pressed it to his face.

Sam smiled softly, it was rare to see Dean this way, vulnerable and so tender, "You are quite taken with him aren't you big brother?"

Deans voice was a whisper, "Very much so but he wouldn't want a prostitute."

…

Castiel laid there in bed with his legs open and eyes closed, gently touching himself, he squeezed first one nipple then the next. His thumb massaged the drops gathering over the swollen head of his cock as he thought of Dean with the green eyes and freckled face.

He dreamed of fucking the perfectly plump ass as the younger man moaned and begged for more. Castiel pictured himself as passionate, loving and demanding, claiming every inch of young flesh as his own. It wasn't long before ropes of semen launched from his jerking dick decorating the thick, dark curls beneath them as the rest on the hard, tan belly.

Afterward he pulled the covers up and fell into a fitful sleep.

…..

Dean woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon, his eyes snapped open and the hungry young man sat up, he saw his brother setting two platters on the rickety old table by the window. "Get up Dean, breakfast will get cold." Dean walked over scratching his balls as he went, yawning loudly. Sam gave him a sour look, "Go wash your hands."

Dean shook them at his brother with a grin on his face, "Why? These are my balls and that's my breakfast, I promise not to get hair in yours." He sat down and stared at the large portions, "Sam how did you afford this?"

Sam smiled proudly, "I have a job in the kitchen and my pay is three meals a day for each of us."

Dean had already eaten all the bacon on his platter; he happily dipped his bread in the egg yolk, "Sam that is wonderful, I've been so hungry and it seems there is never enough to eat for us. That is my fault, I don't provide for you like I should."

Sam reached over and touched his brother's hand, "I work so you don't have to sell your body all the time. I wish I could pay for everything Dean, you sacrifice so much for me and I feel so badly about it."

Deans eyes filled with tears he would only allow his brother to see, "It's not your place to feel bad Sam, its mine. I promised to take care of you and I've done a piss poor job of it."

…

Castiel dressed down in his common clothing and headed out to question people about the two prostitutes that were murdered. He was now of a mind that Emma Elizabeth Smith was not killed by the same man but rather a victim of the young gangs that roamed the streets extorting prostitutes for money and sexual favors. She had been robbed and then raped with a blunt object which led to her death.

Instead he focused on the recent victim Martha Tabram who was found mutilated just August 7th .

Martha seemed the victim of a very angry individual, someone that wanted her punished. Emma was a victim of opportunity and money was the main goal for the killers, the rape with an object seemed an afterthought. He worked his way back to Whitechapel stopping to question his sources on the street.

Eventually he found himself standing in front of the Drunken Pony where a crowd was eating a midday meal. He wanted so badly to inquire about Dean but saw him sitting with Sam and the owner.

"Just go in and order, have a meal and then ask about Martha…you need to be professional. Dean is only a pretty thing that caught your fancy for a moment and that is all. Love is for the foolish."

Castiel steeled himself and entered.

…

Dean was sopping up the last of his stew with a piece of brown bread feeling full and satisfied. His wounds healed quickly, it was an advantage to the lycanthropes. For this much he was grateful.

He spotted his savior sitting at a table all alone, an arm guarding his bowl as he ate. Dean pointed to Castiel, "that is the man who saved me Benny." The vampire eyed the man, "He looks very serious. I imagine he's a dull fuck."

Dean glared at him, "Shut your trap, he is incredible. I must properly thank him." Dean marched right over and sat across from the Inspector, "Do you remember me?"

Castiel glanced up then back to his bowl, "Yes of course, you are the prostitute I saved from that pig last night."

Dean scratched the back of his head in a nervous habit, "Would you come eat with us?"

Castiel looked over at Benny and then Sam, the last thing he wanted was to sit and make polite conversation with Dean's young lover, "No thank you I just came to ask questions about a woman that was murdered recently."

Dean reached across the table and touched his hand, "So who are you investigating?"

"Martha Tabram, she was a prostitute that was brutally killed. There was no money taken and the person that did it seemed to be in some sort of frenzy. He was punishing her. Dean you need to be careful, there is evil afoot and I don't want anything to happen to you."

Benny waved them both over, "Dean, bring your friend."

Dean smiled sweetly at his hero even though Castiel wouldn't look him in the eye, "Come with me, Benny knows everyone and he can help."

…

Benny and Dean were having a beer while Sam and Castiel had tea. Castiel was sitting across from Sam examining all his features, "My word, that boy is lovely. Yes I have no chance with my green eyed angel…no chance."

Benny rapped the table, "Hello, are you listening? Martha came here several nights a week but I only saw her leave with regulars here. No one new, I can't say what happened at other taverns in the area though. Martha was an unfortunate looking woman, bad temper, drank many men under the table. I didn't know her well at all but still, no one should die that way. What a horrible thing."

Sam reached over and took his brothers hand in his, "Dean be careful, if something happened to you I would go mad." Dean pressed Sam's hand to his cheek and held it there, "Nothing will happen to me Sam don't worry."

Castiel couldn't bear to watch anymore, he put money on the table for his meal, excused himself and left to question people in other shops and drinking establishments where his heart and ego wouldn't be crushed.

…

A man that would soon be known to all as "Jack the Ripper" stood on the street watching first the smaller, darker man pass by. He didn't believe that man was a prostitute. He was dressed as a laborer but Jack knew he wasn't any such thing. The way the man carried himself, the clean face and hands said to Jack that he was playing a role much like he was at the moment.

Next came the boy that he knew was a prostitute, Jack had been watching Dean and although the thought of killing a male never occurred to him he began to like the idea of carving and mutilating the whore. After all Jack would have so much more to cut off and take home with him as a trophy.

He had a dream of the green eyed slut last night, a dream of the boy tied and tortured because he was much to pretty to kill outright. Jack thought he would have a very good time showing him what happens to dirty boys that fuck strangers for money.

The whore yelled, "Castiel wait I have your handkerchiefs!" He waved them and one flew out of Dean's hand landing in front of Jack.

He picked it up and looked at the initials, "Castiel…C.J.N….Inspector Castiel Novak from the article in the paper…wonderful." He pressed the bloodstained piece of fabric to his face, closed his eyes and breathed deeply trying to catch a lingering scent but was disappointed to only smell soap. Now he had a face to put to the name.

Jack was going to follow them but he was distracted by a woman that he would later make very famous. Mary Ann "Polly" Nichols.

TBC

Officially, Jack the Ripper is credited with five murders in a period of ten weeks in the Whitechapel area during the year 1888. Some reports estimate as many as nine murders around that period of time could be contributed to him.