He doesn't want help.

But Castiel knows that he needs it, right now. It's why he's tried to safeword out, even after Jason left him here like this, it's why he's not questioning how fast the Winchesters arrived, it's why he clenches his jaw, but admits: "I don't think I can clothe myself alone."

For a moment it looks as if he wants to add something, make excuses, hope to deviate punishment he should not even expect, hope to soothe over anger, because it's apparently a reaction he's gotten oh so used to.

If he was useless to the Winchesters before, he doesn't want to know what he is now.

No, that's not true. He knows.

He's a slut.

'I'm not.' - A slap. It stings and makes Castiel taste blood. For the first time, but not the last. 'Remember your place. You're my sub. You're whatever I say you are. This is what you wanted, Steve. You asked for this, didn't you? Are you to proud to be what you obviously crave to be? Say it. Or we end this right here, right now. Don't look at me like all pathetic like that. Say it.' - 'I'm your slut.'

He knows.

And he has no doubt that Dean and Sam know now, too.