Warning: Contains rape. Don't like, don't read.
Chapter Three
The screams pierced through the fiery flames that surrounded them, failing to interrupt the two figures that stood nearby. One stood in the background, against the blood red wall, leaning casually, a small smile flickering over his smoky features while the other worked, sharp razor in hand.
An indifferent, impassive look was etched into the face of the other who looked relatively human, except for the dark, soulless eyes. The silver razor in his hands glided over her skin effortlessly, marking it with each swift stroke. The pure soul's continuous screams made no difference in what was occurring. The blinding white light of the body slowly darkened as its blood poured down over it, eventually covering from head to toe.
When the razor was finally dropped, it hit the floor with a dull thud and the one torturing turned his head, almost curiously, to admire and take in his handy work. The soul before him was no longer recognisable and all sounds from it had finally ceased. He got to his feet and stood tall, looking over the corpse once again before stepping back, bowing his head faintly.
The figure standing in the corner finally moved to stand beside the torturer. A wide smile formed on its smoky face, showing its razor sharp teeth. The hunter turned his head again and watched as the demon looked over his work, wondering if he was going to be impressed or not. The latter was not something he wished for.
"A good first try, Dean," the demon said, black smoke billowing from his orifice as it spoke, turning to look beside it. "But you have much to learn." The demon stroke the hunter's chin almost affectionately before glancing back down at the metal slab which now rested against the red wall. "Surely you can do better."
Dean knew what this meant. He had to give it another try. Slowly, he nodded, showing that he was indeed going to do as asked. Ignoring the razor that still lay near his feet; the hunter moved towards the female soul on the slab, which was back in recognisable form, her body seemingly clean and untouched. Roughly, he pulled her up and with much force he pushed her against the wall to his left just as it began to bubble and hiss.
Screams of agony were ripped from her mouth as her body convulsed violently, the flesh from her back melting and pooling around her feet. The first smile in years tugged at Dean's mouth as he watched her. Quickly realising that it was her agony that satisfied him, he wasted no time picking up the razor and stabbing her in the arm. More screams left her but Dean continued, unfazed, stabbing her again.
When the sobbing quietened a little, Dean stepped back momentarily. "Losing feeling in your arm? Perhaps I should move to the other one."
A barely audible whisper reached Dean's ears. "Please..."
Dean stepped closer, putting his ear near to her mouth, wondering if he heard correctly. "Are... are you begging me?" asked Dean, amused.
The female soul nodded, her head scarcely moving. "Please..."
"You can do better," hissed Dean in a vicious tone, his eyes darkening further.
A sharp breath exited the soul's body and she slumped against the wall but before she could burn much more Dean hauled her up and placed her back onto the metal slab, laying it flat upon the ground. As the cold metal pressed against the hot burnt tissue of her back, she whimpered, shivering violently. A look of faint amusement made itself known upon Dean's face, lighting it up softly.
Kneeling beside her, razor in hand hovering it against her chest, just below her neck, he spoke. "Should I slice you open and see what's in there?"
The soul shook her head but Dean didn't notice. Instead, he changed his mind, stabbing the unmarked arm several times before stopping, panting faintly. Dean looked to the souls face. It was splattered with its own blood and the eyes were wide and fearful, tears leaking from the sides, disappearing into its hair.
Dean's head turned faintly at the current sight of her. His eyes narrowed as he bent closer, noticing her lips moving but the words were unintelligible. Slowly, Dean moved closer to her and eventually the words were audible.
"Thus that which is the most awful of evils, death, is nothing to us, since when we exist there is no death, and when there is death we do not exist..." A cool jolt travelled through Dean's spine at the chilling, whispered words which were repeated over and over. "Thus that which is the most awful of evils, death, is nothing to us, since when we exist there is no death, and when there is death we do not exist..."
"Ignore the words, Dean."
The hunter's jaw visibly clenched as he swallowed hard. Returning to the event at hand Dean remembered himself and placed the tip of the razor against her chest before roughly slicing all the way down, spilling blood to the sides which steadily dripped onto the already horrid floor. The girl was silent which made Dean's anger rise. The razor suddenly hit the floor amongst the blood and Dean shoved a hand into the soul's body, mixing with the organs.
A sudden shout of horror escaped the soul's darkening lips as the squishing sounds reached her ears. Not even a few moments went by before she began to whimper and writhe on the table, hoping that her squirming actions would make him stop. It didn't. As Dean moved his way through and around her organs, he finally reached her heart and wrapped his hand around it. As the fingers squeezed slightly, the soul spoke again, her voice high and piercing.
"Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; with them forgive yourself."
From the anger those words caused, if it had been a cartoon, Dean would have turned red and steam would have burst from his ears but instead, Dean did the next best thing he could think of. He squeezed his fingers around the heart tightly and he waited until feeling the squishy pops before yanking it from the body.
Once the heart was free and steady in his hand, Dean floated it in front of the soul's eyes which were glazing over but he knew she wasn't going to die. You can't die in Hell. Here, you're already dead. Only seconds later, Dean shuddered as he felt a presence behind him. He already knew it was Alastair but he still cowered and bowed his body nonetheless. It only made him feel further disappointment with himself.
"Lick it," the demon whispered in his ear.
A cold chill ran through Dean's spine. He looked behind him questioning at the demon but he didn't argue and didn't offer his comment which was quickly rising to the surface. Instead, he did just as Alastair wanted. He brought the heart to his lips and slowly his tongue poked out from his mouth and he licked up the full length of the bloody heart.
The demon chuckled in pure amusement. "Now, drop it and step on it, crushing it into the floor."
Those orders made Dean stop cold in his actions. His eyes widen considerably as he looked at the demon who continued to leer at him. Dean opened his mouth to say something but quickly changed his mind as a flash of anger swept across the demons face. Eventually, the hunter nodded and dropped the heart to the ground, wiping his hand on his pants before exhaling heavily and stepping on the heart.
Blood and tissue spurted in all directions. Dean felt his own heart clench tightly in his chest, almost as though his actions had caused his own to burst within the confines of his skin. The demon moved to stand in front of him and stroked his face.
"You did well, pet," he whispered. "Would you like a treat?"
Dean's mouth literally watered at those words. He nodded and Alastair wasted no time in giving Dean exactly what he wanted.
A stifled whimper sounded in the small motel room but this time, it didn't disturb his brother in the bed beside him. Dean wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked down. It was no different than the other day; drenched in another cold sweat and hard as hell.
Swearing under his breath, Dean quietly got off the bed and dressed into his jeans, not bothering to do them up and put on a loose shirt. Before leaving the room he grabbed a few last things and went to the front desk. After ringing the bell impatiently for the tenth time, the dishevelled man who ran the joint came around and leaned heavily on the desk, his eyes barely open.
"What?"
"Tell me you have another room," said Dean quickly.
"Another?"
"I'll pay double," said Dean instantly at the man's questioning look.
"I have one, it has a double bed though-"
"Perfect," said Dean hastily and a little louder than intended. He fished out his wallet and put the money on the desk before grabbing the key and practically sprinting towards the door. He unlocked it quickly and pushed the door open. Slamming it shut, he threw the key onto the rickety table and looked up towards the ceiling.
"Cas!?" he called loudly.
Sighing heavily, Dean sat down upon the bed and held his head in his hands, wondering if he was about to commit the ultimate sin. He knew there wasn't anything worse than what he had already done but against a soldier of Heaven... this had to be right up there and as he sighed again, Dean knew this alone would probably be enough to send him back to Hell right now.
"You called?"
Dean jumped and looked up. In the corner, beside the door stood Castiel, dressed in his usual attire. Dean got back to his feet and looked the angel over before pacing the room silently, still unsure of whether this course of action was unwise. He did have another idea in mind, but he wasn't ready to stoop that low yet.
"You said if there was anything I needed..." Dean trailed off and turned to face the angel. "Did you mean that?"
"Of course," replied the angel in his usual gruff tone.
Nodding slowly, Dean approached the angel, whose eyes watched his every movement intensely, making him feel a little nervous. Stopping directly in front of Castiel, Dean looked down at him and he had to ask again.
"Are you sure that... anything at all... anything?"
"Yes," replied Castiel. "You are in my charge, Dean. I'm supposed to help you in any way I can."
"Why were you running from Zachariah the other day then?" asked Dean quickly.
"I wasn't at my post," the angel replied quietly, looking down guiltily. "But it's been settled."
"Good," the hunter whispered before pulling pouncing towards Castiel, yanking the trench coat from his body and discarding it upon the floor. The angel instantly showed surprise, the blue eyes wide.
"Dean, what are you doing?" he asked as the hunter walked behind him and pulled of his blazer and disposing of it in the same manner as the trench coat.
Dean appeared to have no patience or time to explain. "You said you'd help," he replied vaguely.
Once the tie and white shirt lay abandoned on the floor, Dean walked back into Castiel's view and yanked at the belt before unzipping the pants and pushing them down. Not bothering to take the pants off completely or the shoes, he roughly pulled Castiel to the bed and pushed him onto his stomach, his legs dangling uselessly off the bed.
Dean paused, breathing hard. It was obvious Castiel was letting this happen but... why? He was an angel. Was he really going to let this happen just because he was in his charge? Dean kicked himself mentally and removed his clothes hastily, throwing them into the pile along with Castiel's.
Dean paused again, taking a moment to look down at the pale white skin lying there, open on the bed for him. A strangled moan sounded in Dean's throat as he felt his manhood swell further if it were possible. Taking himself in hand, Dean stroked up his length roughly, spreading the pre-come which had gathered at the slit.
Grabbing a pillow from the bed, he placed it underneath Castiel's body, propping him up for better access before gently rubbing the angel's behind, squeezing it. It was soft and firm and made Dean growl menacingly. He couldn't wait another second. Pushing Castiel's cheeks apart, he slammed into the man's unprepared body, causing the angel to scream and buck into the pillow.
Dean moaned heavily, knowing he had just caused the man beneath him great pain which was nothing but a turn on. Choked sounds coming from under him reached his ears but Dean's rhythm wasn't interrupted as he pounded into Castiel harder, making the sounds louder. But they competed with Dean's moan and growls which were close to animalistic in nature.
Leaning down across Castiel's back, Dean ground into him deeper, temporarily enjoying the feel of the body beneath his; the body that felt incredibly soft and warm and...
The hunter trailed off, moaning, suddenly thrusting harder as he felt his release rising quickly. Slamming home one last time, he came over the edge spilling into Castiel's body.
"Alastair..."
The audible whispered moan was barely heard but the angel beneath him stilled and held his breath at the shock but Dean noticed nothing as he slumped against Castiel, panting irregularly. The room turned eerily silent as Dean's eyes closed, briefly forgetting all of his worries and scarcely noticing the continued almost silent choked sobs beneath him.
The phone rang out and Sam sighed heavily, pacing around the cramped space of the motel room. For the fifth time, he glanced at his phone and redialled Dean's number. Placing it to his ear and taking in a deep breath and held it, praying under his breath for Dean to answer. But just like all the other times, it rang out.
"Damn it," Sam hissed.
Quickly he placed his arm down by his side. He glanced around the room, feeling jittery at not knowing what to do but quickly it came to him. Bringing his phone back up, Sam dialled a new number and found himself still hoping for an answer.
"Hello?" said a gruff voice.
"Hey, Bobby, it's Sam," he said quickly, unable to keep the fear from his voice.
At the other end it was noticed and the older hunter instantly asked, "Sam, what's happened?"
"It's Dean," he replied. "When I woke up this morning he was gone and he's not answering his phone and he's been acting weird the last few weeks."
"Weird how?" asked Bobby quietly, concern coating his voice.
Sam sighed again, not quite sure where to start. "Well, a few weeks ago he disappeared and when he returned he refused to talk about it and since then we've seen Alastair and he was different then too, like he didn't mind the demon's presence or something. I just... I don't know what to do."
"Alright, son, just relax," said Bobby calmly, thinking it through for a moment. "Why didn't you call me earlier?"
Sam shrugged although he knew Bobby couldn't see it. "I don't know. I guess I figured Dean would work it out himself like he does with most things or that he'd say something if it became too much." There was a short pause. "I don't know what to do, Bobby."
"Let's find him," said Bobby almost straight away. "Tell me where you are and I'll help you search."
Sam quickly found the address before hanging up and leaving to conduct his own search while Bobby made his way here.
A few hours later, Sam returned to the motel room and hastily threw the keys to the hired car on the table. He had hoped he knew Dean better than this. Normally, he would have been able to find him by now or at least have some clue as to where he's got to but not this time. All he seemed to be getting was a whole lot of nothing.
Feeling useless, Sam paced around the room, stopping at the window every so often to glance out, faintly hoping he'd see the Impala pulling into the parking lot but each time, Sam just felt the same feelings of disappointment wash over him again. Moving away from the window for what felt like the hundredth time, Sam made his way into the small kitchen area and reached into the fridge for a beer. It seemed like a good option.
But upon turning around, Sam jumped in his skin as there was a figure sitting on the bed, looking at the floor, seemingly deep in thought. A loud thud echoed the room as Sam forcibly placed the bottle on the counter and took a few steps forwards but the angel still didn't look up. He placed a hand over his mouth, resting on it and continued to stare at nothing.
"Castiel?" he asked a little unsurely. "Is everything alright?"
"No," the angel replied vaguely.
"Do you know where Dean is?" asked Sam quickly, feeling as though time were running out.
"Yes," was the next vague reply.
"Where is he, Cas?" asked Sam roughly and a little louder than he intended. But noticing the look that grazed Castiel's features, his own contorted into worry. Had something terrible happened without anyone being the wiser? "Castiel... what's happened?"
The angel's wide, innocent looking blue eyes finally looked up and met Sam's hazel ones. He almost wished he could tell him everything with nothing more than a simple look but it wasn't that easy. He was unsure of whether to start at the beginning or just at the end.
"He's with Alastair." The voice was quiet and the tone difficult to decipher. "Or at least, he will be."
Sam's face went from a look of surprise to one of terror. Stepping towards Castiel gently, he looked the angel up and down slightly before finding any words to say with any coherence. "How do you know this? What happened?"
"I saw Dean last night," said Castiel quietly, his voice barely audible. "He..."
"He what, Cas?" asked Sam impatiently, trying to hurry this along but suddenly, Sam stopped for a moment, noticing the same broken look upon the angel's face that made him wonder if something bad actually did occur. "What did he do?"
"Dean's been having nightmares about Hell..."
"That's not something new," said Sam interrupting.
"Perhaps not," Castiel agreed, removing the hand from his mouth. "But the urges resulting from them are."
"What urges?" asked Sam, worry hitting his voice.
Castiel sighed heavily. Only then did Sam see the heavy lines in Castiel's face, looking as though he hadn't slept in days but knowing that he didn't sleep made Sam feel sure that something was definitely wrong.
"After each nightmare Dean finds himself having urges of a... sexual nature and he needs to fulfil them with something."
"How long have you know about this?"
"Since last night," the angel admitted.
"And what happened last night?" asked Sam, taking a seat on the bed beside the one Castiel occupied.
Castiel's eyes went back to the floor and he stared, barely blinking. "The first time it happened, he took care of it himself but last night, he used me to help him."
"Are you saying that Dean... raped you?"
The angel's silence told Sam all he needed to know, making him swear under his breath and get to his feet, pacing as it seemed to help. Exhaling sharply, Sam ran both hands over his face vigorously and tried to get his mind focused on finding Dean before he reached the demon.
"Alright, let's go back," said Sam, making his voice calm. "Where exactly is Dean going?"
"To Alastair, I told you," said Castiel, looking up, slight confusion hitting his features.
"Okay, I understand that, but why is he going to Alastair?"
"Dean believes the only way to cure himself of what's happening is to seek the demon out who started it all."
Many questions filled Sam's mind and he felt panic rush through him as time definitely felt like it running out. "Alright... go back a little further," said Sam, leaning against the kitchen bench and looking at Castiel. "How did this start? What did Alastair do?"
It wasn't his place but Castiel saw no other option open to him. "As grand torturer of Hell, Alastair gets first pick of all new souls that enter. Of course, he was one of many who wanted Dean's soul and he took it without any hesitation. Alastair uses what he can to get what he wants. For reasons that remain unknown, Alastair has an ... obsession of sorts towards Dean."
"You mean he wants Dean?" asked Sam uncertainly.
"No, he doesn't care about Dean," said Castiel quickly, his voice turning gruff for a second. "He's a demon, he cares for nothing but death and torture but in a way Alastair sees himself in Dean. He wants Dean to want him. He needs it, feeds off it. And unfortunately, Dean craves what only Alastair can give him."
"Dean wouldn't go to a demon for anything," said Sam quickly. "I know him better than that."
"Do you?" asked the angel quietly, his eyes staring at him accusingly. "Sam, Dean is desperate and running out of options."
The room turned silent as Sam grabbed hold of his beer bottle and took a large swig of it, thinking his own options through. "Well... what's really the worst Alastair could do? Rape Dean?" asked Sam slowly.
"No," the angel replied gravely. "He could become like you."
"What do you mean like me?" asked Sam, putting the bottle back down, giving the angel a confused, almost innocent look which both knew wasn't genuine.
"Alastair could the ultimate thing to Dean to get him to submit and depend on him completely."
"What thing?" pressed Sam impatiently.
"Feed him his blood."
At those four words Sam's blood turned cold. His face slackened and he walked towards Castiel who still sat on the bed, unmoving. "Take me to Dean."
"I- I can't," the angel stuttered.
Quickly, Sam realised the reason for why he thought he couldn't and instantly he picked up the keys for the rental and wrenched the motel door open. "Where is he going?"
"Rockville, Maryland but Sam, you won't reach him in time."
"Yes, I will," the young hunter replied firmly. "Get to Bobby and give him the address. Tell him I'm on my way there."
Guilt racked through Castiel's body as he watched Sam sprint from the room and into the silver car. As he pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared, Castiel buried his face in his hands, feeling broken and defeated. The human in his charge was about to fall because of him, because he couldn't face the truth of what transpired between them.
After several silent moments had passed, Castiel finally got to his feet and looked around, briefly glancing at the bed which had been Dean's. He swallowed hard and managed to make himself look away. Remembering Sam's words, the angel closed the door and locked it without touching it and vanished into thin air.