Chapter Text
Paperwork. Castiel understood its importance, but he truly hated it at times. Especially when it came to filling out evaluations, he glanced down at the form on his clipboard, checked off a couple more boxes to indicate that the client was giving a satisfactory performance. Even without Castiel being the recipient, it was clear to him that the Dom was enjoying his sub’s very talented mouth.
But the sub wasn’t who Castiel was evaluating. The Dom had been referred to their offices, seeking to understand why he had so many issues keeping his subs satisfied. In a world where your biology dictated your preference, it was unsurprising that so many struggled to adapt to a role that they might not have been prepared to accept. Having gone through their lives expecting to be a sub, and suddenly finding out that they were in fact a Dom.
It had led to more than one Dom engaging in clearly harmful behavior, and with the introduction of better blood tests at younger ages, many of those issues had been nipped in the bud. Leaving fewer and fewer unprepared Doms and subs at the mercy of their biological imperatives.
“Michael, what should you be doing?” Castiel asked, after Michael had failed to offer any physical touch to his sub. He watched as the Dom’s hands unclenched from around the edge of his seat and gingerly threaded through the sub’s soft blond hair. Adam shivered for a moment before he eased into the soft touch, clearly savoring the gentle massage he was now receiving.
“This is an equal partnership. You need to let your sub know when they have pleased you,” Castiel commented, adding another check mark as he heard Michael’s softly murmured good boy.
Michael had fallen victim to another pitfall that plagued Doms who came seeking Castiel’s assistance. The thought that Doms were brutes who needed to force their will upon the sub, dominating them to the point that the sub lost all free will in the relationship. While it would fulfill the Doms’ necessary biological urges, the sub would be left bereft and could fall into a lingering illness. While Michael hadn’t been a severe case, he didn’t dole out the desired praise and affection that every sub longed for, so that they could know that they had pleased their Doms, and had their needs met.
Castiel had run into the couple at his brother Gabriel’s office, which, in hindsight, he was quite certain that Gabriel had subtly orchestrated, since the signs were obvious that there was a lack of warmth in the relationship, and that an intervention was needed, post-haste.
Gabriel was a sub who had a Dom that he couldn’t seem to get enough of, and Sam was more than happy to fulfill any request that his sub asked of him. They had been together since Sam’s freshman year of college, when he had run into Gabriel, who had been a janitor at the time, before Sam had helped him to realize his full potential. Now Gabriel ran a service that helped to match up potential couples. And he was always happy to direct troubled couples Castiel’s way.
Castiel looked up as he heard the commotion in the outer entryway of the office, and he could hear Gabriel’s agitated voice. “Excuse me for just a moment, please. I’ll be right back,” Castiel assured them as he stood and moved to the door, opening it just before Gabriel could push his way into the session room. Castiel closed the door behind him and grabbed Gabriel by the shoulders, turning him and directing them to his office.
“But, Cas-”
“I have a couple in session. This had better be important,” Castiel noted while he kept guiding Gabriel down the hall.
“God, yeah, sorry. But it is important.” Gabriel spoke quickly, clearly worked up, and not his usual carefree self. “It’s Sam. But, not really, I mean-”
“Gabriel, breathe. Okay? Just breathe.” Castiel helped Gabriel to sit in the overstuffed armchair that was a particular favorite of many subs, as it was large enough to seat two, and allow them to wrap themselves around their Dom when they were in urgent need of physical touch. Just now, Castiel sat beside Gabriel and held his hands, knowing he needed to calm him down so that he could get to the bottom of whatever was upsetting his brother.
“Ok, so Sam’s been worried, about, well… Dean. Sam’s worried about Dean.” Gabriel rushed the words out, and Castiel was left feeling like his world had tilted over sideways.
Dean. The sub that had gotten away. Mostly because of Castiel’s own ignorance, but that was neither here nor there. Gabriel knew that Dean was a sensitive spot for Castiel, and that was why they never spoke of him. Sam was always painfully careful to avoid mentioning his older brother, who had rebelled against his biological designation time after time, until he had finally been assigned a state-sponsored Dom, when Castiel had foolishly refrained from stepping up and offering his services.
So, for Gabriel to be here now, without Sam when he was clearly in need of comfort from his Dom, it meant that something had gone terribly wrong.
“Why do you think he would be worried about Dean? Did he say something?” Castiel asked as calmly as he could.
“Say something?” Gabriel snorted, “Not so much. Punched something – someone, absolutely!”
Castiel followed his own advice and took a deep breath, because Sam may be a Dom, but he was an unmitigated fluffy puppy, who wouldn’t hurt a soul – unless they had asked him to. For Sam to be engaged in physical violence against another was a huge red flag that left Castiel praying that everyone would be alright.
“Gabriel, who did he assault?”
“Come on Cassie, I think you know.” Gabriel’s honey-gold eyes were filled with nothing but compassion, before he spoke the name Castiel had never wanted to hear again. “Lucifer.”
Castiel had to look away, lest his eyes betray all the pain he felt, knowing that his heart would need to be reined in while his mind took control. He took another couple of deep breaths, felt Gabriel’s hands clench around his own, and finally turned back. Hoping that he was prepared for whatever words were going to tumble out next.
“Tell me what happened. Please,” Castiel politely asked, hoping that Gabriel would be able to keep his own panic in check until the tale was recounted.
“Sam hasn’t been able to get a hold of Dean for a month now. And even before that, all of Dean’s texts were brisk and short, but at least he was sending something. When he got over there, Lucifer answered the door, but wouldn’t let Sam in, said Sam had no right, that Dean belonged to him now. Sam called in a favor, got Charlie to authorize a wellness check, and the cops pushed their way inside over Lucifer’s protests. Jesus, Cas, it was horrible, what they found. I mean…”
“Focus, Gabe. What happened with Sam?” Castiel pressed even as his heart skipped a beat, knowing from past experiences with clients how badly some Doms could go.
“They found Dean, and he was completely out of it, like catatonic or some shit, and the cops were going to arrest Lucifer, but he shot off his mouth, said Dean asked for it, and Sam knocked him out cold, and so they arrested him as well, and Dean’s down at the county hospital, and we all know that’s the worst damn place for a distressed sub to be, and I need to get a lawyer for Sam, and its just – fucking chaos.”
A knock on the door interrupted them, Castiel got up to see who it was, realizing how unprofessional it had been of him to leave his clients alone, hoping that he would be able to smooth over the situation. But when he opened the door, Michael was standing there, looking apologetic.
“I’m sorry I have to cut this short, but I have a client in need of my services. Is there any way we can reschedule for later?” Castiel looked from Michael to Adam, who was tucked into Michael’s side, clearly trying to comfort his Dom.
“Yeah, yes. That’s perfectly fine. I’ve had an issue come up as well, that I need to attend to. If you would call my secretary tomorrow, she can get you rescheduled.”
“Michael?” Gabriel asked from behind Castiel.
“Gabe? What are you doing here?” Michael asked as he pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly scrolled through a text. “I would have thought you would be with Sam.”
“Um, I was, but he sent me here to get Cas for…”
Michael cleared his throat sharply. Indicating that he knew exactly who Gabriel was referencing. “Well, I need to get Adam home, and then I’ll be headed downtown. I’m sure I’ll see you there.” Michael nodded to Castiel, and then he turned and strode down the hall, his sub still tucked under his arm.
Castiel shut the door and leaned back against it, his mind racing, trying to formulate the best plan to fix the mess he found himself currently embroiled in. First things first, they needed to head downtown. Gabriel to the police station and Castiel to the county hospital. Which meant he would need his official credentials, and a call to Charlie would get the ball rolling on expediting matters.
“Come on Gabe, let’s ride in and save the Winchester boys, just like we always do.”
“Speak for yourself. I think the Novak boys have been saved plenty of times,” Gabriel chided while he gathered his coat. “Seriously though, Cas. You gotta help him. I’ve never seen Sam like that, I can only imagine the condition Dean will be in.”
“Come on, let’s go.” They were exiting his office when he called out to his able-bodied secretary. “Jo, can you lock up? An emergency came up and I have to go.”
“Yeah, yeah. Got ya covered boss! Go save the day!” Jo called from behind her wall of monitors.
“Do you actually know what she does all day?” Gabriel inquired as they moved down the hall.
“I do, I’m just pretty sure that you don’t want to know,” Castiel responded, pulling out his cell phone and calling Charlie.
“Greetings and salutations! How can I help you today?” Charlie’s chipper voice poured out of the speaker, and Castiel had to take a moment to wonder how anyone could work in protective services and still be that cheerful all the time. He decided that Dorothy must be one hell of a Dom.
“Charlie, this is Castiel. I have a feeling I may be in need of your assistance.” There was a sputtered gasp on the other end of the line, followed by the furious clacking of keys as her fingers flew across the keyboard.
“Well, fuck. I guess Sam decided to call in the calvary,” Charlie declared, just before she started muttering as she read whatever had appeared on her screen, “Emergency removal requested… officer on scene statement… fifteen-year veteran… never seen anything that bad… immediate remand to county hospital… disposition to be determined… confirmed abuse… sub is CATATONIC!”
Castiel shifted the phone away from his ear, since he sincerely believed he would need his hearing at some point in the future and waited for the swearing to subside while Gabriel gave him a worried glance. “Let’s take your car,” Castiel told Gabriel once keyboard clacking was the only sound coming out of the phone.
They climbed into Gabriel’s Chrysler Pacifica and were soon on their way, still listening to Charlie mutter under her breath while she searched through files, folders, and old reports. Until suddenly, “AH-HA!”
“What is it, Charlie?” Castiel inquired nervously, always leery of yet another roadblock that might be thrown up in his path.
“According to the court order granting Lucifer the right to care for Dean, he was supposed to be filing weekly progress reports. In the year that Dean has been in his care, oh fuck, he’s only filed two. Failure to comply with the mandates of the court are grounds for termination from the program. And if he was that lax in one area, an argument could be made that he failed in other areas.” There was a pause, while Castiel held his breath, anxiously waiting to see what else Charlie could find.
“Um, Cas, I gotta go. I need to file an emergency injunction and get a judge to sign off on a few more arrest warrants.” The keyboard erupted in a cacophony of clicky-clacking noise. “I’m sending Missouri down there. She’ll be all the backup you need. And I’ll get back to you later. Alright?”
Cas swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. Missouri Mosley was the last person anyone wanted to see, especially if they were on the wrong side of the regulations governing the care of subs. She had a way of simply knowing every detail that an offending party might want to hide and then getting them to admit to it. Castiel had witnessed her in action a few times over the years, and he had always been impressed by her talented handling of such matters.
But if Charlie was calling in Missouri, that could only mean the situation was even more dire than Castiel could have imagined.
“Alright. I’m ten minutes from the hospital. I’ll see her there.” The sound of the line disconnecting was Charlie’s only response, and Castiel was left flustered. Which was not a state that he liked to be in. He was supposed to be in control at all times, calm, cool, and collected. Which he knew was wishful thinking at best, but it was one of the sweet little lies he told himself throughout the day. What made the bitter twist of disappointment palatable.
Castiel had been without a permanent sub since that day when he hadn’t stepped up. From the moment that he had decided to try to respect Dean’s rather obstinate wishes. Ones that were contrary and wrapped up in sexist and malicious misconceptions about how a true partnership was supposed to play out. And now, now the consequences of his inaction were coming home to roost.
“Gabriel, do you have a bag of supplies with you?” Castiel asked while his mind raced, rapidly helping him to formulate a plan.
“Yeah, there are some in the back. What were you looking for, specifically?” Gabriel gave him a quick glance, before he returned his eyes to the road. Castiel knew he probably didn’t look like the Dom he was purported to be. Especially one that was highly sought after, when couples found themselves in need of assistance.
“Rope. The softer the better. It will need to be able to remain on for the long term.” Castiel watched as Gabriel chewed on his bottom lip, before he nodded.
“Yeah, it should be in the smaller gray duffel, along with some cuffs and a collar.” Gabriel took a deep breath, then asked in a soft voice, “Will that really be necessary?”
“Yes, Gabriel. It will. Because I’m not going to make the same mistake I made last time,” Castiel responded just as they pulled up to the curb next to the emergency room entrance.
“Hey. You know, I wouldn’t say anything unless you were my brother, because it’s not my place to tell a Dom how to handle his sub. But, please Cas, I know what Sam said, I heard most of what Charlie said, just, ya know.” Gabriel huffed out a sigh as his sympathy filled honey-gold gaze locked onto Castiel. “Don’t let him down again. Because it would kill Sam, and that would kill me. Okay?”
Castiel saw the deep pain reflected in Gabriel’s eyes, knew what it had cost him to speak to a Dom like that. Knew that even in healthy relationships, the thought of speaking up could hold a certain terror for a sub, even when it was their right to do so. It would, in fact, help them when their Dom then soothed them after, assured them that their input was valid and welcome.
Castiel reached out, wrapped his fingers around Gabriel’s that were still clenched tight on the steering wheel. Gave a gentle squeeze, held Gabriel’s concerned gaze.
“I’m not going to fail him or you or Sam again. I’ll make this right.” Castiel drew in a deep and calming breath, and again, and then again, watched when Gabriel mirrored the action. Knew he had calmed his little brother enough to let him go and pick up Sam from the jail, where he suspected Michael would already be, helping to free his client as he was duty-bound to do. “Now go, I’ll get this squared away here.”
Castiel pulled back, saw Gabriel press a button in a control panel above the rearview mirror, and heard the chime to indicate the back liftgate was opening. Castiel closed the passenger door gently, walked around to the back of the minivan, and found the bag that Gabriel had specified. He picked it up and swung it over his shoulder, feeling the weight of the multiple coils of rope shift and adjust. Knew that he would need to use most of them before the night was through.
He closed the liftgate and gave a wave, watching Gabriel drive away. Castiel then turned toward the hospital, St. Joseph’s, and shivered when he thought of some of the subs that he had found here in the past. He knew that the staff wasn’t trained in the latest techniques, and that they would always fall back on sheer brute strength when all else failed. Thinking that domination was the only thing a sub understood or required. That the care a Dom gave to his sub was strictly optional, and reserved for those who barely met the criteria to be classified as a Dom.
Castiel walked through the sliding glass doors that automatically opened up for him and approached the front desk, his credentials at the ready. But he stopped short as he heard a voice he would know anywhere, already steeped in scathing outrage.
“I don’t care who you have to wake up! Get them down here! Now!”
“We are simply following standard procedure and offering the appropriate mandated care-” the doctor was cut off quickly.
“Care that would be mandated were the sub capable of responding to the stimuli! He is clearly catatonic! A different approach is demanded! And this court order mandates that you allow us to give him the care he requires!” Missouri produced an official document from her bag, thrust it towards the doctor who had attempted to argue with her.
“Us?” The doctor questioned her timidly.
“Yes, Dr. Novak and I will be seeing to his care.” Missouri turned and pinned Castiel with a fiery gaze, which prompted Castiel to continue down the hall and join her so that they could face off against the doctor together.
Castiel handed over his state-issued badge, watched the doctor turn a little green, as if he knew he was never going to win this argument, and it was not sitting well with him. Castiel truly hoped he wouldn’t go home and abuse any poor sub that might be at his mercy, in an effort to rebalance his hormones.
“Very well,” the doctor said as he handed back the badge and the court order, “he’s in room 117, and we were going to get to him shortly. We were a little slammed tonight, so we haven’t had the time to process him properly…”
Castiel was already turning away and moving down the hall. Leaving the doctor to Missouri’s non-existent mercies. Knowing that he would be able to hear most of the conversation, even a few corridors removed from where it was occurring. To leave a distraught sub by themselves, when they clearly needed urgent care, was the height of gross incompetence.
The room was at the end of the corridor, and Castiel took a moment to look through the security window as his fingers curled around the doorknob. He could see the still form lying on the bed, completely motionless, looking as if he might not even be breathing. With a hard swallow and memories that he’d rather not focus on, rushing to the front of his mind, Castiel turned the knob and pushed the door open. He gasped and covered his nose with his hand when he took in the foul stench that almost knocked him backwards. The Dom glanced around quickly until he located the open shower stall in the far corner of the sterile room and grimaced when he realized he would need to use it first before he could begin implementing any type of care regimen.
Castiel closed the door softly behind him, set the bag on the floor quietly, and approached the bed where Dean lay. Pale and gaunt. Clearly malnourished, even in the baggy hospital gown that was his only attire. Dean’s eyes were open, but Castiel knew they were unseeing. Taking in nothing of the room around him, or the people who had barely done the bare minimum to try to care for him.
Castiel began to strip out of his clothing, quickly and efficiently, leaving them in a neatly folded pile, before he walked to the shower and turned on the water, setting the handles to what he hoped would be close to lukewarm. He approached the bed again, calling softly, “Dean.”
There was no response. Nothing to indicate that Dean had heard anything. Castiel called again, louder this time, “Dean!” But still nothing. No hitch in his even breathing, no side-eye, no snarky remark that had always seemed to be on the tip of his tongue.
Castiel grasped both of Dean’s shoulders and gave the broken sub a good shake. But there was still no response. It was as if Dean’s consciousness had fled, leaving his body behind. One that stank, hormones so out of balance he smelt like spoiled milk. Sour and rotting.
Castiel finished stripping but for his boxer briefs and then lowered the guardrail on the bed. He rolled Dean towards him and was shocked when he found that he could easily manhandle a gaunt figure that had once been covered head to toe in lean muscle that moved beautifully beneath his pale skin. Castiel picked Dean up in a bridal carry and walked across the room. Setting Dean down in the plastic chair that sat in the shower stall. He took a moment to adjust the water until it would do the job required of it, calm and soothe as it helped to wash away some of the evidence of the trauma that Dean had endured.
He unhooked the shower head from the wall, moved it so that the water would wash over Dean’s bowed head. Noted the concerning lack of any discernible reaction. Castiel stripped off the hospital gown, even while he continued to rinse Dean’s body. The first rivulets of red began to appear, that dripped onto the floor, when the water washed over Dean’s abused genitals, and they were almost more than Castiel could bear. He felt the anger beginning to well up inside him, understood how Lucifer had attempted to dominate Dean in a brutal and ham-handed manner, and issued a fervent prayer that Sam had successfully broken one of Lucifer’s malicious hands, or at the very least, his nose.
Castiel hooked the shower head onto the second hook in the wall above Dean’s head, picked up the washcloth and soap, wet them, and then began to wash Dean from head to toe. His motions were brusque, to try to garner some manner of response. But Dean simply sat motionless where he had been placed. He made no attempt to move away or defend himself from the hands that were freely roaming over every inch of his injured body.
This isn’t my Dean! The little voice in Castiel’s head cried out while he kept on going, trying to wash away what should never have been allowed to accumulate in the first place. With each stroke and swipe, with every careful movement of a limb that was allowed without protest, the gentle words of praise fell generously from between Castiel’s lips, “Good boy. So well-behaved for me.”
It wasn’t until Castiel was shampooing Dean’s hair for the second time, his trim fingernails scratching over Dean’s scalp, offering a soothing comfort, that Castiel noted the first intentional movement. It was small, and had Castiel not been watching for it, he might have missed it. But Dean leaned into the touch, little more than a slight shift of his head, but it was enough.
Castiel became freer with his praise, simply repeating the words ad nauseum, because it was offering the barest sliver of hope, and Castiel was determined to cling to it. To drag Dean back from the edge of whatever bleak tragedy he had been forced to endure. All under the guise of his needs being met in the most expedient manner possible.
By the time Castiel shifted Dean’s legs so that he might be able to wash between them, and discovered what he had wished he wouldn’t, he was too wrapped up in caring for Dean to react with the rage that was clearly deserved. The abuse had devolved into outright rape. That much was certain. Castiel was as gentle as he could be, and for the first time, he didn’t have to carefully look for a reaction.
Dean flinched away from the touch, as much as he could, before his body shut down on him again. But Castiel had received the message, and he would honor it.
“I won’t hurt you, not my good boy. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll make it better. Just like my good boy deserves,” Castiel promised as he kept on cleansing Dean. Knowing that he would need to offer better medical treatment to the sub than what would be available at the county hospital.
Castiel finally turned off the water and began to towel Dean dry. Softly praising the entire time, barely giving himself a second between a new good boy falling from between his lips. Castiel lifted Dean once more and carried him back to the hospital bed, laying him down carefully, before he placed a towel over his midsection.
Castiel was still only clad in his wet boxer briefs, water dripping down his lean body, when he grabbed the canvas bag and brought it to the hospital bed. He placed it across the chair that sat just off to the side, unzipped it, and thanked God that Sam was so indulgent when it came to Gabriel and his delicate sensibilities. The rope was hemp, dyed a light blue, and well cared for. It wouldn’t scratch or irritate Dean’s sensitive skin, and there was enough of it that Castiel would be able to do a full body lattice work.
Castiel straightened Dean out on the bed and then took the remote control and began to raise the back half of the bed, so that Dean might be able to sit up straight once it was properly adjusted. He took the first length of rope, looped it around Dean’s shoulder, and began to weave the intricate lattice pattern around his bruised torso. The rope glided over Dean’s freshly cleaned skin, and Castiel kept sliding his fingers underneath to check that they weren’t too tight and cutting off circulation, since Dean was still in no condition to answer that very basic and simple question.
This gentle care he was providing was soothing Castiel almost as much as it was calming and comforting Dean, this graceful rope play that would leave Dean wrapped up snug and held secure. Once Castiel had moved low enough, he wove the rope around Dean’s arms, drawing them close and leaving them tied against his body. The diamond pattern began to stretch further down the center of Dean’s torso, as the countless length of ropes were interwoven, crossed, and looped back upon themselves.
The entire time Castiel labored on his living, breathing work of art, he continued to gently praise Dean. Calling him a good boy, commending him for sitting so patiently, telling him how gorgeous he would look once Castiel was finished. How any person lucky enough to witness him in such a state would be envious; the Doms’ feeling anger that they could not possess him, and the subs feeling sadness that they could never hope to equal his exquisite beauty.
Once Castiel reached Dean’s upper thighs, he carefully split the ropes so that no pressure would be placed on Dean’s abused scrotum, cock, and hole. If Castiel had to guess, he would surmise that a humbler had been used, and that it had been adjusted to far beyond Dean’s physical limitations. Used as a brutal means to punish, rather than for any mutual means of pleasure.
Castiel carefully folded the towel before he rolled Dean slightly and placed it beneath him. Needing the barrier to be in place, so that Dean would know that nothing was going to be expected of him once Castiel joined him on the bed and held him close. Castiel picked up more lengths of the hemp rope and continued down Dean’s legs. Tying them together but leaving enough slack that his legs could still bend at the knees without any undue pressure being applied.
Castiel tied off the intricate ropes when he reached Dean’s bruised ankles, making a conscious effort not to think about how a sub would garner bruises that deep a purple and yellow. Knew that Dean must have struggled valiantly against bonds that had been far too tight. Castiel knew that Dean would need to have an extensive physical examination done soon, but not tonight.
Tonight was all about comfort. It was about a gentle and loving Dom calming and soothing a broken sub who was so far gone he was perilously close to being lost within his own mind for the rest of his life. Castiel’s hands were reverent when he checked the rope once more, making sure that his fingers could slide beneath it easily before he turned away to retrieve the final item he needed to help Dean settle.
The collar was basic, simple black leather, but it had been worked until it was butter soft. Until it would rest easily around a willing neck. It was not one meant to be used to lead a sub about on a leash that was attached by a fat O-ring; it was meant to adorn and flatter the wearer. To show that someone cared for them enough to take their feelings into consideration.
Castiel could understand it being in the bag, knowing Sam as well as he did. A huge hulking man, who wouldn’t raise a finger to harm Gabriel, his diminutive sub, and love of his life. Even when Gabriel begged to be roughly dominated, which he frequently had in full view of Castiel, due to his inability to contain his bratty nature from time to time, Sam had been nothing but gentle. Delivering blows that barely pinked Gabriel’s fair skin. But Sam had growled out warnings, whispered them against the shell of Gabriel’s ear, until the sub was a quivering mess. Begging and pleading even as he apologized for his behavior. It was then that Sam would excuse them, carry Gabriel off to their playroom, and Castiel was left to his own devices.
It had been during one of those times that Dean had shown up and entered his brother’s home with the key that had been provided to him.
Castiel had looked up, knowing that Dean existed, because there were plenty of family photos spread out all over the living room, but he was ill-prepared for the effect that the in-the-flesh version of Sam’s older brother was going to have on him.
“Who are you?” Dean asked, and Castiel was forced to concentrate, to quell the shiver that attempted to race up his spine when that deliciously rough voice washed over him.
“I’m Castiel. Gabriel’s older brother. And you are?” Castiel asked, rising from his seat on the couch, extending his hand towards the man who had hardly been done any justice by the images all around them.
But Dean didn’t seem interested in pleasantries. He scoffed and sneered before he turned away. Dismissing Castiel as though he hadn’t spoken, possibly didn’t even exist.
It took only a moment for his instincts to flare to life, and in a move that left him shocked, Castiel was across the room and slamming Dean face-first into the wall while he used his own body to hold him there. Castiel could recognize a sub, even one he had only just met. And the challenge that had been thrown down in front of him, by Dean’s brash dismissal, was too tempting for him to even attempt to ignore.
“Get the fuck off of me!” Dean yelled while he tried to push himself away from the wall, seeking the leverage to throw Castiel’s weight off of him.
“No, I don’t think I will,” Castiel purred out, savoring the resilient muscle that he could feel pressed against him. Felt his cock twitch at the prospect of domming this defiant sub, of taking him apart piece by piece until he gratefully thanked him for his service. A breathless whisper that would announce his complete and total submission to the world.
Unfortunately, Dean hadn’t gotten that memo. In fact, as he continued to struggle, it became clear that Dean wanted no part of Castiel, or any Dom for that matter.
“I swear to God! You had better get off me, you son-of-a-bitch, or I’ll kick your scrawny ass!”
“I’d love to see you try,” Castiel smirked, tightening his hold ever so slightly. “And you have been sorely misinformed. My ass is not scrawny, in fact, it’s spectacular!”
“Oh, I had to run into a fucking comedian. Great, just fucking great,” Dean scoffed as he continued to struggle, seemingly oblivious to the natural instincts that were being activated within Castiel, ones that would demand that he not let go until the sub in his arms complied with such a basic command.
It was biology, pure and simple. What Castiel couldn’t understand was why Dean was fighting so valiantly against his own. Why he was fighting, what he should clearly welcome.
The sound of a knock on the door drew Castiel out of his thoughts, away from a time when he had been so foolish and shortsighted. And had let Dean slip through his fingers. By being respectful of his wishes.
Castiel walked to the door, glanced through the window, saw Sam’s worried visage, and then opened the door quietly.
“How is he?” Sam asked tersely as he kept an arm around Gabriel, offering him comfort even while he was clearly deep in his own distraught emotions.
“He’s traumatized, but I got him cleaned up and bound. I was about to curl up with him, hold him, and praise him. Let him know that he’s safe now.” Castiel watched Sam nod, heard him clear his throat harshly.
“Yeah, he always did have a praise kink a mile wide. John abused the hell out of it…” Sam trailed off, let the memory slide away with a shudder, and refocused. “Do you think you’ll be able to reach him?”
“Sam, I’m not going to fail him.” The again was silent, but they all heard it. They all knew how much Castiel regretted not stepping up, remaining polite and not forcing the matter. Making Dean see that he would have been the preferable option. But there would be time for regrets later. “I just need you to work with Charlie and Missouri. We need to transfer him out of here, and he will need some extensive medical attention once he’s stabilized and rebalanced.”
“What kind of-” Sam broke off when Gabriel whimpered and burrowed into his side. Castiel couldn’t honestly be sure if Gabriel was really that upset, or if he was trying to distract Sam. Pull his mind from the conclusion that his sub had already drawn.
“It doesn’t matter right now. Just try to get a bed in a level three or better facility. Can you do that for me, please?” Castiel asked, hoping that Sam would let it go. Focus on Gabriel instead of the follow-up questions that could be answered at a much later date.
“Alright. I’ll see to the arrangements. You see to Dean.” Sam glanced at the bed, eyes taking in the eerily still form, and Castiel could see the moment it clicked, how Dean wasn’t fighting something that he had rebelled against at every single moment of his life previously.
With a weary sigh, Sam turned away, holding Gabriel close while they went to find Missouri and Charlie. Castiel noted Michael standing at the end of the hall, eyes haunted, before he looked away.
True Dom’s, those that cared for their subs could never visit a place like the county hospital and walk away unscathed. They were too affected by the need to see to the care of all of those around them. The biological imperative that screamed inside their brain. Demanding action be taken.
Castiel closed the door, pulled the soft blanket out of the duffle, and placed it over Dean. He crawled into the bed behind him, wrapped his body around him before he began his unending litany, which left him praising Dean ceaselessly.
All while he silently hoped it wasn’t too little, far too late.