A/N: Again ITALICS are GRAPHIC depictions of child sexual abuse and in this chapter graphic non-con oral sex. A little bit of establishing Destiel fluff tho! (This chapter involves a little of Castiel dissociating, which is one way a person could cope with past traumas, it can block out memories, identity etc. I experience this from time to time, I have BPD, and so I'm just going off of my experiences, although it's different for everyone. Although what Castiel is going through is more of Dissociative amnesia which is common with sexual abuse survivors)
Castiel woke up covered in sweat, soaked through his night shirt and pajama pants, his stomach rolling tremulously. He trembled as he turned to face his sleeping father in their bed, his father had explained that it would be safer for him if they shared a room. As Castiel moves he distinctly feels more wetness between his legs, realizing, belatedly, that he had wet the bed. His bottom lip wobbles as he gathers the front of his shirt and nibbles on the collar of it, too afraid to wake up his father for fear of punishment. Castiel had thought he was getting better, feeling better, but then his father had given him those pills and now… "What are you doing up angel?" he is shook from his thoughts by his father opening his fatigued eyes and looking at him suspiciously, making Castiel tremble harder, but he knew it would be worse if he didn't answer, "Daddy I… I had an accident." He winced at the words because he's seven, a big boy, he shouldn't be doing this. His father raises an eyebrow looking at Castiel's sweaty forehead down to the dark spot between his legs, "It's okay Castiel. You're sick. Things like this happen" His voice is steady, almost far away, shaking Castiel from his fear filled thoughts and looking at his father surprised. He doesn't turn on the light, so only the moon spills luminescence through the window, guiding his father's way to grab a small wash cloth, dampening it and climbing back on the bed, hovering over top Castiel who looked up his father with wide eyes. The little boy felt the scrape of his father's knuckles against his protruding hipbones as he took the elastic of his pajama pants in each hand and slowly peeled them down, watched the way his eyes seem to deepen as Castiel's cock is freed, seeming to savor the small whimper that escaped the boy when he feels cold air hit the wet, sensitive skin of his groin. His father pulled the pants down all the way and threw them to the floor near the hamper, taking the cloth and first wiping the sweat from his son's head, "You have a fever again… I'll have to pick up more pills for you" he is seemingly talking to himself but Castiel wants to cry out because those pills are what made him feel bad in the first place, "But Dad-" he is cut off by his father pressing his lips down on his own, pulling back after a quick moment, "Shh, I'll make you feel better okay? Do you want special kisses?" Castiel didn't really, but, he liked to see his father happy so he just quietly nodded, flopping his hair in his eyes as his father reached back down and gently runs his tongue across his bottom lip, coaxing Castiel to drop his mouth open for him. After a moment of kissing his father reaches back up, taking Castiel's little cock in his hand and smiling, "Here we go."
"Cas-ti-el!" He is pulled from his head by the worrisome pronunciation of his name, face to face with Michael holding a plate of food. "Eh. Sorry. What?" Castiel scrunches his brows and tries to expel the syrupy feeling in his head, it makes his thoughts feel heavy and they happen in slow motion. He wonders how long he'd been sitting here on the couch, just staring at the blank TV, remembering. He'd tries so hard to convince himself the past is in the past and could no longer hurt him but his brain never seems to get the news. "Castiel!" He jerks back up again, looking at his brother sheepishly, he'd zoned out again. "Sorry Michael, I'm just-I'm tired" He pulls himself from the spot on the couch, throwing a small smile toward his older brother and tries to walk to his room. Bed. Sleep. Yes. "Now, wait a minute!" He doesn't hear the voice, only feels the hand clutch at his wrist, trying to pull him back; he knows, knows his brother would never do anything intentionally to hurt him but his brain has a way of short circuiting at the worst times, making a habit of forcing unwarranted thoughts and memories into light when least expected.
Don't you dare walk away from me young man, I will make you wish you had never even tried.
Castiel can feel the beating of tears behind his eyes and the phantom sting of a hand to his face as he twists in the hold, "No! Don't touch me!" he vaguely registers that his, typically, low voice has gone up a few octaves as he accidentally flails out and knocks the plate from Michael's hand, coming back to as the sound of ceramic shattering on wood reverberates throughout his bones. He's pulling back so hard that the moment he is released he falls on his butt, staring down at the broken plate with wide eyes, his chest heaving quickly, silence filling the room for a minute before he finally scrambles over and begins picking up the pieces of the plate, "Oh god Michael, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to break it, I thought- I wasn't- I didn't. I'm sorry" he babbles out quickly until a gentle hand is placed on his own, forcing him to look up to his brother, who's worried look makes him feel worse, "Cas. It's okay. Stop, it's okay. Just calm down a moment, okay bud?" His voice is full of concern as he helps the youngest Novak to his feet, "Are you okay Castiel? Because if anything is… if you're feeling overwhelmed or anything we can-" Michael is struggling with the right words, pressing his lips together as Castiel stops him, "I-I'm okay Mike. I just…was scared and just…I'm... sorry I broke the plate" He forces a small smile, nodding and backing up slowly, "It's okay Cas. No worries okay? Just… let me know if things get too much okay?" Castiel nods again and retreats back to his room, pressing the door shut and placing his forehead against it, taking in steady breaths.
'Come here Castiel, why don't you let me make it better. You know you love it. I know you do.'
He doesn't want to be assaulted by thoughts and memories right now, he doesn't want to think about anything, like the way his brothers tiptoe around him and act like he's a bomb ready to go off, or how other people look at him like he's some kind of foreign being that's not from earth, and he especially doesn't want to think about Dean Winchester and his beautiful green eyes and bright smile that seems to reach inside of him and penetrate every bit of darkness. Yeah. He doesn't want to think about that. But he's never been one to get what he wants, so pressing there against the door an ambush of memories play behind his eyelids, as if they were permanently seared there, stuck like broken video reel, doomed to repeat over and over for the rest of eternity.
'You're mine Castiel. Don't forget that. I own you Castiel, I own you.'
He scurries over to his bed, taking the picture of his brothers, him and their father off his desk and setting it in the drawer, closing it, settling himself in between the desk and his bed, wedged in the corner. He draws his knees up to his chest and runs his hands in his hair, weaving his fingers through the short locks as he lays his forehead on his knees; with a silent prayer he begs every thought away, shoving memories, faces and himself far to the crypts of his mind as he allows the darkness within him to poke out and engulf him, blinding out his eyes and deafening his ears; the abyss that slowly itches underneath his skin is oozing out and promising safety within it's arms. He sits there until he can't really remember how to move, staring straight into the blackness that has bathed him his entire life, blissfully ignorant to the thoughts in his own head now that they seem to be blocked by an invisible wall. He feels his body go slack, not remembering who he is really but, for the time being, safe from his own mind.
-x-
Lucifer knows he should be used to it, but it doesn't make it any easier when he walks into his little brothers room to see him curled up on the floor, eyes staring at the wall, or, rather, past it; he hates to think his thoughts are emptier than his eyes in these moments. The elder Novak sighs, walking over and pulling Castiel up, guiding him over to his bed and sitting him down. "Cassie? Hey hold this, here" he curls Castiel's hand around a glass of water, making sure he's actually holding it before he jiggles a pill out of the bottle in his own hand.
Castiel still doesn't show any sign of being at least halfway lucid, his azure eyes seeming to be grayed over and dull. "Pills Cassie, this'll make you feel better 'kay?" He doesn't expect an answer as he holds the tablet to his brother, who sits limply, eventually letting out a sigh, "Take this, okay?" Lucifer tries not to flinch as Castiel automatically obliges and grabs the pill putting it on the back of his tongue, bringing his shaking hand up and sipping the water. "Okay. We're okay. You're okay now" Lucifer nudges him back on the pillows, avoiding the confused look in his little brother's eyes; peering around as though he doesn't even know where he is.
Pulling off Castiel's shoes and socks, setting them aside, he pulls the comforter up and around his neck, tucking him in and giving him a small smile, "Goodnight Castiel." For a few moments he sits there, listening to Castiel's breathing, but soon gathers himself enough to click off the light and head out towards the living room where Michael is reading through another 'Survivor's Guide'.
Lucifer hates those books, they never actually give helpful advice on how to deal with any kind of real trauma; sure they explain how the trauma comes to, perhaps they tell the reader what could happen but, they never seem to explain to the unsuspecting reader about the reality, like waking up in the middle of the night to bloodcurdling screams, but being unable to comfort or walking in on blank, emotionless eyes, that sit there for hours on end, doing nothing. They don't explain to those readers that little things will trigger attacks, things like certain colored blankets or the way a body spray smells; that even the lightest, most innocent of touches can stem a full blown panic attack and they certainly don't prepare the reader for a little brother that seems broken beyond actual repair. They're worthless, Lucifer shakes his head, sitting down and plucking the offensive thing from his brothers hand and throwing it aside.
"I was reading that!" Michael glares at him but it comes out more whiny than authoritative which causes his cheeks to redden slightly as Lucifer chuckles, "What is it going to tell us that we don't already know bro? A cure? Doubt it, because he's not… sick" he winces at his own usage of words as Michael sighs and bites the inside of his cheek, contemplating. "Before you ask, I got him up, gave him his pills and put him to bed" Lucifer informs before Michael can ask. More silence. Michael opens his mouth, closing it a moment and then starts again, "What if-"
"What are we talking about oh brothers of mine?" Gabriel.
Michael shuts up quickly, turning to the honey haired boy with a tired smile, "Nothing Gabe. Don't worry. You, though, need to head to bed soon" he scolds, shoving papers under the coffee table as Gabriel rolls his eyes. "If you're wondering, Castiel made a friend" Gabriel peeks over Michael's shoulder eyeing a thing of chocolates on the table, furrowing his brows as if feeling betrayed and scurries over to them, "Wait he did? How? I mean who?" He feels guilty for being skeptic but he knows Castiel has zero social skills and didn't seem all to excited about talking with the others in the first place.
"Well I mean he's my friend so by default… but he seems to really taken to our Cassie. You've met him a couple'a times. Dean Winchester," He explains, pausing to pop a chocolate in his mouth and rest his butt on the coffee table. Lucifer groans and rolls his eyes, "Out of an entire school of kids he picks Dean Winchester?" he recoils at Gabriel's angry look and jumps to defend himself, "I have nothing against him he just… this is Castiel's literal first friend. Dean… his personality is too loud" He grumbles as Gabriel rolls his own eyes, "You're just a mother hen and won't let anyone have any fun, you need to get laid. Both of you actually because jeez it's hard living with two people that have sticks up their asses" Gabriel grumbles getting up and walking towards his room, "Castiel likes him too, so, I'm inviting him and his little brother over this weekend, youcan'tsayno" he ushers the last part out quickly and runs to his room.
The two brothers look at each other, letting out loud sighs, "Who are we to deny Castiel a friend?" Michael finally says. They can't argue with that.
-x-
The one thing Castiel dislikes more than getting up before the sun is being surrounded by so many taller, filled out teenagers. He more than disliked it, he loathed it; he had quickly dismissed Gabriel from being his guide after seeing the way his brother looked longingly at his group of friends and, as much as he hated it, he'd tried all he could to avoid Dean. By the time the end of the week came around Castiel had gotten the routine down, nearly running from each class to the other, skipping lunch for his much preferred spot in the library and generally just trying to blend in with the walls.
People didn't talk to him, he wasn't sure if he just had an unapproachable vibe in general or people simply thought he was a freak, but he wouldn't be surprised if both were underlying factors; not that he cared that is, he much preferred it.
Though, more often than not, Castiel would find his eyes scanning the crowds for a leather jacket and spiked hair, usually finding him surrounded by happily chattering boys and girls. Like right now as he scurried to Psychology, turning the corner to see Dean with his arm slung around a blonde girl's shoulder and laughing at a lanky boy across from him; Castiel tried to will away an unfamiliar feeling within his chest that resonated throughout his entire body, it was one that made him want to walk over and be the one he was flashing that magnificent smile to. Clutching his books tighter, he scans Dean as a whole; the way his tongue pokes against his teeth when he flashes that little smirk, or the way his legs bow out and make the way he walks entirely… Dean. Feeling a little glimmer of adoration as he sees the way Dean gives full attention to whomever is speaking and he just wishes in this moment he was speaking to him, and oh
"Observing the earthlings freak?"
Castiel jerks his head to where the owner of voice is standing just a tad too close. Before him is a senior, Crowley, his mind supplies, intel he'd picked up from overhearing his classmates. Crowley wasn't someone you wanted to tangle with, he was mysterious and malicious, garnering a following of people who merely feared what he was capable of. He was staring at Castiel with what could only be described as an amused look, most likely had been watching him watch Dean.
Castiel doesn't want to answer him so he huffs a breath and continues walking forward, stunted only when a hand pulls him back, "You disrespectful insect, were you raised in a barn?" he sounds angry but Castiel doesn't focus on that, no, just the way his skin burns at the contact, "Stop. Get off me. Don't touch me" He realizes his voice is impossibly small and holds only desperate passiveness; he just hopes Crowley doesn't pick up on this, that's all he needs is this enigma knowing his weaknesses. "Why I ought to-"
"HEY!" Castiel and Crowley both whip around to see Dean heading towards them, pushing Crowley off, "Mess with him again, and see what happens!" Dean actually growls and Castiel finds himself captivated by the boy whose body seems to radiate anger; he'd noticed that before that Dean tended to wear his feelings literally on his sleeve. Crowley just throws a smug look at the Winchester, glares at Castiel and tells him to watch his back and stalks away.
Castiel swallows hard as Dean turns to face him, anger dissipated and merely replaced with… concern? Why was Dean concerned about him? "You okay buddy?" he is getting close, checking him over in Castiel's shock, which shocks Castiel's even more because he realizes he doesn't mind Dean being this close to him. "T-Thanks Dean," he finally breathes out, looking into his eyes, hoping he can convey what his words always seems to lack, "Of course, that guy is a douche." And in a final act of surprise Dean slings his arm over Castiel's shoulder, and, oh my god, guides them to their next class. The smaller boy can feel his heart beat rapidly in his chest, but it's not accompanied with that same icy feeling rather a warm, apprehensive one.
With Dean touching him he feels his mind poke around, as if he should be remembering something, but that something never comes, no, his mind is merely full of how heavenly Dean smells and how amazing he feels being the object of his attention in this moment. Even as they both enter the classroom and sit in their respective seats, the feeling reverberates within him and he can't help but bask in it because any other time he'd be wallowing in self-loathing and horrid memories, so as Dean turns toward him, that famous smile quickly becoming Castiel's favorite thing, and talks about nothing important, Castiel can still feel the ghost touch of his fingertips that makes his skin vibrate with a certain feeling of being absolutely alive.
He vaguely picks up that Dean is chattering about things that they can do, hanging out, and spending time together; Castiel feels the haze of good feeling in his mind clear a bit as he tilts his head and just needs to know, "Why me Dean?" This seems to shut the boy up for a moment before he smiles again, "Because you're different Cas." the words are only slightly registered as a hand is placed tenderly on his own and suddenly he feels the words that are spoken to him, feels as though the brilliant light that makes up Dean Winchester shifts from his body into Castiel's own and somehow chips at the darkness inside of him, breaking through, trickling in and trying to penetrate the dark crevices that hold so much fear and loneliness. His warmth sending crackles of electricity throughout Castiel's body, pumping through his veins and overpowering, no, destroying the slivers of darkness it comes in contact with there.
Dean Winchester is every vibrant color Castiel had wished to be painted with in his young lifetime, he is the stagnant flame within a hurricane of tumultuous emotion. His light enters Castiel and carves out the dark, rotting pieces that had died so long ago, touching them and willing them back to life again. Dean clasps his hand tighter and Castiel gasps as everything that is Dean fills him up and creates a new place for him to hide away, gripping him tight and promising to do everything in it's power to revive everything within Castiel that had collapsed, withered and used.
It doesn't give him false hope as various therapists had, does not promise him instantaneous, life altering moments, but rather safety. A carved cocoon that Castiel can enclose himself in, which, the thought of, wrapped in the light that is Dean, sends thrums of happiness through his body.
Castiel knows it isn't going to be easy to shed the cocoon his father had created around him, his life isn't going to instantly change, but what he does know is that he isn't alone, and perhaps, somewhere within the brilliance that is Dean Winchester, he may be able to find that one vital piece of himself he'd been searching for his whole life. And, perhaps, someday he could be free of the shackles his father had beaten and bound to him. Someday.
He'd wanted to go with his brothers so badly, simply to the grocery store, but his father reiterated even as Castiel sobbed into his shoulder, 'you can't go out there angel, people will want to take you away. Is that what you want? To be taken to a strangers house?' Castiel shook his head hard enough to make himself dizzy, he definitely didn't want that. But he didn't understand, why would they take him but not his brothers? Castiel still felt sadness in him, the heaviness in his chest, but then again he felt that all the time, he wanted that feeling to go away, so he tried the only way he knew how, "Hold me daddy" he cried gently as he's enveloped in his father's unforgiving arms, he presses his cheek against his father's chest and hopes that, perhaps, they could just sit like this so he doesn't feel so alone, that he doesn't have to mirror his father's touches or sit stiff as he explores his body. Castiel should know that he's never that lucky, that this is what he is meant for; shoving his face into the cloth of his father's shirt he hiccups as a large hand holds his neck and the other reaches down inside his jeans and gropes around. He feels the rapid rise and fall of his father's chest and hoped it's over soon, but he cried out in surprise as his father pulled him back, looking at him with a weird, tired look. 'I wanna show you something new angel, do you want me to show you? It's a secret, a special secret' Castiel and all of his seven year old curiosity get the better of him and he nodded his head slowly, wiping the tears from his puffed cheeks. His father sat on the edge of the bed, instructing Castiel to stand in front of him as he unzipped his pants and pulled them down, quickly with his briefs too. He sat there with his large erection curling out, and Castiel looked up to him confused, he'd seen his father naked before, when they did special touches, but he's not sure what his father is meaning for this time. 'Get on your knees Castiel' his voice is breathy and strange, Castiel cocked his head but does as he's told, 'Dad? What are we doing?' he wondered aloud, but this only seemed to make his father more...strange, as he watched the erection twitch. 'I told you. Something special okay? But you have to do what I say or it won't be special and I will be sad, do you want that Castiel?' Castiel shook his head hard because he knows his father tries really hard to make him happy and get healthy, he doesn't want his father to be sad. He motioned for Castiel to move closer, so he scoots on his knees until he's almost touching the throbbing member, 'Now I want you to put this in your mouth okay' he motioned towards his cock when Castiel looked absolutely flabbergasted, 'b-but, Daddy that's how we-' his father slapped his face hard enough to shut him up and cause tears to spring in his eyes, 'what did I say Castiel? Do you want me to be mad? Because I'm getting mad' the boy definitely didn't want his father to be angry so he shut up right quick and moved toward his cock, slowly pulling the head of it into his mouth, gasping and pulling back when he feels how strange it is; he wanted to cry, he does not want to do this but he also doesn't want his father to be angry or sad. His father seemed to lighten up a bit, chuckling at his anxiety, 'it's okay. It's fun. Open your mouth' Castiel does as he's told, letting his father move his head closer as well, with only a moment hesitation he placed a hand around his prick and then guided it to the small mouth in front of him, groaning as he feels it enter the wet expanse. Castiel watched his father who seemed...in pain? He isn't sure when he hears the groan, just focused on not moving away as he feels his father's cock being pushed further in his mouth. He isn't able to fit much before Castiel is spluttering and gagging around it, unintentionally closing his mouth, only to be jerked violently by his hair, 'No. Teeth. I will not tell you again.' Castiel nodded, his eyes wide with fear as he tried to keep his gagging at bay. He listened to his father's instructions, closing his mouth around it, no teeth, and carefully begins sucking on it. It's weird and painful, mostly his hair is being pulled and his throat is burning while tears make their way down his cheeks. His father mostly guides his head, back and forth, until he's making loud noises, shouting almost, until Castiel feel's the prick being shoved deep into his throat, making him desperately trying to take in oxygen through his nostrils; through his panic his father seized up and moved more rapidly until suddenly he grunted disgustingly and expels some kind of fluid down his throat, Castiel wished to spit it out, unable to do much of anything but convulsively move his throat to keep from choking. Castiel felt something deep within him ice over, almost like it died right there in his gut, and he felt the sadness like a tenfold. He doesn't want to do this his whole life, doesn't want to take his father in this way and constantly feel the heaviness in his chest. When his father pulled out he was frozen in his spot, mind in a muddled haze of horror; this is his life. Even as his father put him on the bed and leaves to go clean himself Castiel felt the tug of invisible ropes around his entire being. Squeezing, squeezing until he felt a breaking inside of him and suddenly his mind is blank, and he lay on the bed completely empty. He numbly registered that if he could stay like this, maybe the rest of his life could be a little more bearable. Yes. He wouldn't mind being numb forever.
I always see Dean as a protector, sue me. But do not be fooled, Castiel isn't suddenly cured or free from his past, I think he just feels hopeful for the first time in his life. Fluff and angst ensue.