fromfryingpantofire | For your love, I'm sorry/For your pain, don't worry

Entry tags:

castiel,
rp

For your love, I'm sorry/For your pain, don't worry

It had been happening little by little. Almost small enough increments not to be noticed, but Sam and Dean were both masters of noticing little details. It was the line between life and death far too many times.

(At least when they wanted to. Both were entirely too good at not seeing the forest for the trees when it was something they didn't want to know about.)

It had been slow, but steady. Sam and Dean had their hunts and Castiel had his job and his own life separate from their own. Especially once he got a boyfriend. It was only natural that they didn't get a chance to meet up as often.

But it wasn't just that. More and more often, Castiel begged off from meeting up or simply didn't answer voicemails left for him. And when they were able to get together, Castiel was quieter and obviously pulling away. It was worrying and Sam and Dean sat down and talked about it in the bunker, even pulling Kevin into it. They all agreed that, even if there wasn't a problem, they needed to at least check up on the former angel.

Which was why Sam was outside the gas station in one of the cars from the Men of Letters' garage, waiting on Castiel to finish his shift. This was something that was better talked about in person, anyway.

((Content warning for discussions of abuse and abusive relationships. Also BDSM done wrong.))

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Sam nods as well, using his knife to cut the ropes. The look of Castiel's wrists is something that Sam never wants to see again, but for now, he simply looks them over. "Kevin will be here soon and he'll take you back to the bunker. You're welcome to the showers, of course, or to a bath. Or you can wait until Dean and I get back, but I don't know how long that's going to be."

If Jason was lucky, he'd only get a piece of Sam and Dean's minds as well as a good few threats. If he was unlucky...well, people disappeared all the time. And they were good at hiding the bodies.

"Why are you not coming right away?"

It sounds almost detached. Castiel doesn't dare raise his true concerns - not wanting to be left alone with Kevin, because he doesn't offer the level of security and solid ground Castiel needs right now.

Part of him wants Jason to be there, and he's not even aware how backwards and messed up that is.

Sam reaches up, brushing Castiel's hair back from his face. "Dean and I need to talk to some of the people here in town. It won't take long, I don't think. Would you rather wait in the Impala, then? It's not far, but Dean and I can't stay in the car with you. Right now, we'd really just like you to be away from here and someplace safe."

Kevin's no dom, though, and Sam knows it. Knows that Castiel needs a dom.

He pauses, thinking it over for a moment. "Actually. Let me go talk to Dean for a moment." Because there was no reason why they couldn't wait and talk to Jason later, once Castiel was safe and settled back at the Bunker.

"I'm supposed to stay and wait."

It's important, because the commands give order to his world and help him not get lost in everything that's too much and too hard and too intense. He needs the commands to ground himself, and he needs to follow, because it's easy, and it feels good to him.

He can't keep rebelling.

Castiel's eyes slide to the side, away from Sam. There's no fight in him right now, he's just lax and exhausted, and though his words aren't an active cry for help, they come as close as they could ever be.

"We'll have guests later."

There's something in that last bit that makes Sam's blood run cold. "Guests?" he asks, keeping his voice very tightly controlled as he strokes his fingers down Castiel's arm. "What do you mean by guests?"

Castiel obviously wasn't in any condition to deal with guests of any kind. So the fact that there were some expected was probably not a good thing.

Castiel just nods, as if the term doesn't require more explanation than that. He lets Sam touch him, even though he knows Jason will be disappointed, and slowly sinks into shame for being such a bad sub. He can't even adhere to the most simple orders, in a scene or outside of it.

"Friends."

Not his friends, but he accommodates them either way if Jason orders him to.

The more he watches Castiel, the more Sam knows that he and Dean are going to need to come back to deal with Jason. Because it's incredibly obvious that Castiel is, at the very least, dealing with subdrop and Kevin is in no way equipped to deal with that.

And Dean is NOT getting a chance to deal with Jason without Sam there.

"All right. Later, I might ask you more about these friends. Right now, though, Dean and I are going to take you back to the bunker. Get these wounds looked at and taken care of."

As much as he hates it, Sam starts gathering up the blanket, pulling it around Castiel. "Is there anything you absolutely need right now?"

Dean entered the room, watching Sam for a moment. They looked at each other, holding one of their silent conversations before Dean began packing a bag of Castiel's clothes. Not that there was a lot of them, really.

Not a lot of Castiel in the house indeed. He has necessities, as if he's living on the road instead of in a small but nice house with his dom. He's not earning much, true, but enough that there should be more. He has what he needs, nothing more. Jason has gotten him gifts, yes, but Jason has also handled Castiel's money - for practical reasons initially, as Castiel had no clue about setting up or using a bank account on his own, or how to make a budget, how to take proper care of himself in every way.

So he has what he needs. There's a side of the shelf that clearly belongs to him - the clothes he wore when Dean and Sam finally found him, his work clothes, some spare clothes, underwear, cheap collars, socks, shoes.

It's not much, and it's the only obvious trace of him in the bedroom.

So when Castiel looks at Sam, eyes searching, and just says "Jason," Dean just barely refrains from punching the cupboard.

It was, really, pretty classic abuse. They'd have to sort out Castiel's bank at some point. Get the information out of Jason. And, pretty obviously, deal with the stuff that Castiel needs, like more clothes.

It's more the cheap collars, though, that get to Sam. As though Castiel wasn't WORTH the expense of something better. Of something just for him.

If he'd been Castiel's dom...

...That's a thought process he does not need to get into. Sam takes a breath and lets it out slowly, reaching up to stroke Castiel's cheek. "I know you don't understand right now, Cas, but this isn't a good environment. What Jason's doing is so far outside of the rules of what he professes to follow that I can't even properly state it right now. And it's going to take time to understand just why I'm saying that, but I try not to lie to you, you know that, right?"

It isn't that Sam's never lied to him. Of course he has. But he's done his best not to fall into that trap again since they'd sorted things out.

"For the moment, Cas, I need you to trust me."

"I'm not allowed to."

It's a regression, and Castiel will, in the future, be horrified that he allowed himself to be strong-armed back into ways of thinking he's left behind, has learned not to follow.

But right now, Jason is the figure of authority he knows and trusts, and Jason doesn't like the Winchesters. It tears at him, because the Winchesters are his friends, his family, and he'd happily bleed for them, but... but...

These days, he bleeds for Jason.

A lot.

Sam isn't allowed to touch him, technically. He's not on the list.

But something in Castiel is shaken up and tilted at an angle, and he's not sure about much anymore. So he keeps his eyes on Sam, keeps listening to him despite paying lip service to the rules Jason has put into place.

It takes another breath, another moment to tamp down on the anger. He can almost feel the same anger radiating from his brother.

Instead, he reaches up and places his hand on the back of Castiel's neck, keeping him in place. It's a dirty, dirty trick right now, but it's the only play he has.

"I know that Jason says that you're not allowed to trust me. To trust us." He wonders if Jason realized that Sam himself was a dom, someone who might have seen the signs earlier if he'd been allowed to see Castiel very often. More likely it was just run-of-the-mill abuse, but Sam was drawing on all of that previous experience in college and in small clubs to bring Castiel back. "But Jason's rules are what's best for Jason, not what's best for you. And that's what should really matter." He looks Castiel in the eye. "I'm asking you to trust me. I'm not asking Jason. I'm asking you."

Castiel's eyes widen a little when Sam's hand slides to the back of his neck, more grounding than he could have anticipated. He feels like an animal held in place for a dizzying second, just because that's the sort of sensation he's become familiar with, and then he realizes that there's no real pressure on him, just a steadying presence. Warm fingers that don't squeeze and press, but simply keep him firm and steady.

He closes his eyes then, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to listen to what Sam is telling him.

When he speaks, he sounds more like himself. Less insecure, but a bit more raw and hurting.

"Sam... Dean... Can I come home now?"

Something in Sam broke at that. Small and raw and hurting, but so much more Castiel than they'd heard in a while.

He doesn't stop himself as he leans forward, kissing Castiel's forehead. "Yeah," he says, then swallows and clears his throat to try again. "Yeah, Cas, you can come home. In fact, once Dean has your stuff, we're going straight out to the Impala and we're going back to the Bunker, okay?"

It isn't great. It's a long way from great. But it's a start and that's all Sam needed for the moment.

"Can I wear the clothes?"

There's something weary in his voice, as if he's asking permission and expecting to be denied, instead of making the demand that he should be making, that he's always been strong enough to make. Jason did a good job crushing that part of Castiel during his lowest point, exploiting on the fact that being stripped of everything he's previously been has left Castiel without any defenses.

"I would prefer not to have a third friend see the entirety of my state."

In hindsight, it is mortifying enough that Sam and Dean are seeing him naked and with the proof of his sexual appetites.

Or... Jason's appetites... that seemed to go along so well with Castiel's own.[ ]

Oh yes. He's going to murder Jason when he gets hold of the man. From the way the wall got punched again, Sam thought that Dean would be helping.

Not that he thought for even a second that Dean wouldn't.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course you can get dressed." He looks at Castiel for a moment. "Do you want me to take the collar off?" Because as much as he wants it off of Castiel, that last physically removable part of Jason's claim, he knows that Castiel may need it. For a while longer, at least.

It's at this point, that Castiel just slides right into a deep, dark pit of shame. The more he's coming out of his shellshocked, panicked state from earlier, the more he becomes aware of the fact that he alerted Sam and Dean to something they should never have seen, much less take care of for him.

He's just another mess to clean up. So his eyes drop away, find a loose thread on the sheets and focus on that.

"No."

It's his punishment collar. Right now, he wants something to keep him in his proper place, something to remind me of just how utterly he's failing his dom by doing this. Jason will never forgive him for this, and Castiel isn't even sure he can forgive himself.

They have an agreement. They have rules. The rules change all the time, but they're still there, and Castiel should never have deviated from them. He's supposed to call Jason, never anyone else. He's supposed to be a subpetslaveseenbutnotheardplaythingslutbitch--

Dean is hovering, awkwardly. His voice is pitched low, as if he's not sure how to tread here, because Cas seems to have checked out on them completely now. So he clears his throat, shuffles from one foot to the other a little. That's his best friend there, and he's got not choice but to let his little brother take the lead because - go, Sammy - his little brother actually seems to know two things about all this shit.

Not that it's shit. Dean knows enough to not judge.

It's just shit the way this Jason guy - aka the Winchesters' future punching bag - has been doing it.

Doing it with Dean's best friend involved, who's an angel of the fucking Lord and now has to focus on how to breathe calmly in order to even fucking get out of his house.

Yeah, Dean's gonna kill the guy.

Castiel calms down when he hooks two fingers into the collar, as if tightening it grounds him a little. His eyes open again, but he looks lost. One step forward, two back and a couple dozen to the side.

Sam waits, hands on Castiel and reminding him that somebody is there, somebody is close and helping. He turns to Dean, then nods to the bag. They're going to need some clothing for Castiel to change in to before they can get anywhere.

That, at least, is easy enough to handle. Shirt, jeans, underwear and socks. Shoes may or may not be too difficult, they'd have to see.

Once Dean hands them over, Sam turns back to Castiel. "Cas?" he asks as the former angel's eyes open again. "Good, Cas. I have some clothes here for you. Are you okay to get dressed on your own or do you want help?"

Keep giving him decisions to make. Even small things. Especially small things at the moment.

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.

"Okay. We can work with that."

Which means that Sam will work with it. "Dean, can you go bring the Impala around?" Give his brother a chance to get out, give him a chance to get some fresh air and deal with the worst of his anger at the moment.

Sam's still angry, but he has it channeled away. He can't show that emotion in front of Castiel, who will obviously assume that it's directed at him.

Instead, Sam starts moving his hands over Castiel's shoulders, trying to soothe the former angel before he pulls away to help get Castiel's shirt on. It's a button down, so that there's no need to lift arms over Castiel's head or pull at marks over Castiel's back.

"I'm going to need you to stand up for the boxers and pants, Cas." Sweatpants, which don't go with the shirt in the least but chosen because they're easy to get on and not too tight.

He's glad that Dean is leaving the room for this. If Castiel is honest, he would prefer to be able to do this on his own, but to have one brother have to assist him is already bad enough. He's not sure if he could have taken the situation with both of them there.

As it is, he merely nods and slowly gets up on shaky legs, only barely wincing when he pulls some barely healed welts and shifts on the too big plug inside of himself. With Sam's patient coaxing he steps into one leg of both boxer and sweatpants, then the other, and breathes a little more easily once Sam has pulled them up.

He still feels naked. But he's covered, so that makes it easier to bear.

Castiel doesn't realize he let go of the collar and is loosely holding onto Sam's sleeve. As if he's temporarily finding safety elsewhere.

Castiel may not realize it, but Sam does. He also doesn't draw attention to it. The fact that Castiel is reaching out for support and safety is...well, it may not be a good thing, but he's not keeping hold of the things that Jason gave him and that's something.

Sam slides his arm around Castiel, keeping his touch to the other man's lower back. A place that he can only hope, right now, that Jason left clear of marks simply because of how dangerous impact in that area can be. "When we get home, we'll get you a shower, yeah? And I want a chance to look at your back and wrists." Probably his ankles, too, honestly. "See if there's anything that needs treatment."

There will be. Jason seems to have been the kind of dom that enjoyed pain far beyond what his submissive was okay with. Something that was making Sam see red even as they moved.

Csatiel's mouth tightens when Sam places his arm, but he doesn't call attention to the pain that he feels instantly, because he's not suppose to cry over every ache. Just needs to remember that months ago, he asked for that pain, so now he has to deal with getting what he wished for.

There are several marks all over him that speak of irresponsibility or downright cruelty. The skin underneath the collar is purple in the shape of a hand, there's a cigarette burn on the back of Castiel's knee, and his skin is discolored, bruised and broken in more places than the first inspection has revealed.

And he thinks that it was all part of the lifestyle he found himself needing.

"I'm not allowed to wash the scene off and out."

Sam frowns, catching the tightening of Castiel's mouth. He curses internally and vehemently, but there's no other way to steer Castiel at the moment. He needs to encourage him to move and Castiel doesn't seem all that thrilled at leaving, even if he has asked to come home.

"That's when you're in Jason's house and under Jason's rules," Sam replies, trying to move them toward the door. There's no telling how long Jason will be and Sam doesn't want to confront him with Castiel there. "The rules in the bunker are different. You need to clean off in order to heal properly."

It's logic, a simple kind of logic that Castiel's life has sorely been lacking, and he can cling to it for now. He can hold on to logic and let that be his rule for now, in a life that has been devoid or rules for quite a while now. It allows him to move properly, so let Sam lead him.

Castiel doesn't go quickly, can't at this point. And he doesn't go with his head held high. But he goes, and he manages not to look back even when fresh air hits his face and Dean opens the Impala's backseat door for him.

When he carefully seats himself, it's with a soft, choked off sound of pain, and with that comes the refusal to let go of Sam's sleeve.

That...that Sam wasn't expecting. He looks at Castiel's hand, frowning for a moment before he puts his hand over the former angel's and crouches. "Cas," he says softly. "I'm okay to sit with you in the back seat. But I think it might be better for me to move around and sit on the other side." It would safe Castiel having to move again, because Sam does not want to hear that sound of pain once more. Every time he hears it, he just wants to hurt Jason more.

Still, he manages a smile for Castiel. "Can you do that for me? Let me go long enough for me to go around the car and get in on the other side? Then you won't have to let go until we get to the bunker."

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