Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2256834.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Castiel_(Supernatural), Benny_Lafitte, Lucifer_
      (Supernatural), Crowley_(Supernatural), Alastair_(Supernatural), Michael_
      (Supernatural), Gabriel_(Supernatural), Kevin_Tran, Victor_Henriksen,
      Garth_Fitzgerald_IV, Mary_Winchester, John_Winchester, Sam_Winchester,
      Bobby_Singer, Trans_Jo_Harvelle, Missouri_Moseley, Original_Male
      Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Juvenile_Hall, Teenage_Castiel/Teenage_Dean_Winchester, Juvy_AU, Gay_Sex,
      Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, non_consentual_advances, Bottom_Dean, Top
      Castiel, Tough_castiel, Religious_Castiel, Protective_Castiel, Submissive
      Dean, mentions_of_drug_abuse, crimes??, idk_I_don't_want_anyone_to_be
      triggered_by_stuff, Angst, Fluff_and_Angst, Major_Character_Injury, Major
      Character_Death_(at_the_very_way_end), Poverty, Rich_Dean, I'm_Bad_At
      Tagging, wow_long_tag_lol, I_am_the_worst_:), warning_bc_this_shit_gets
      heavy, omg_I'm_a_narcissist_aren't_I, Character_Development, BAMF
      Castiel, Dean_is_so_awkard, Bisexual_Castiel, Gender_Dysphoria
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-05 Completed: 2014-10-26 Chapters: 20/20 Words: 49194
****** Beige Is The New Leather ******
by flannelfeelings
Summary
     Dean doesn't like to think of himself as a criminal.
     Of course, he's in a juvenile detention center when he should be in
     sophomore English, but that doesn't really matter. He's going to
     serve his time and get the hell out, no strings attached, no marks
     left.
     That is, until he meets the terrifying boy from the cell across from
     his.
Notes
     Here's chapter one of a story I just got random inspiration for and
     cranked out at midnight. Please let me know if you enjoy it and would
     like it continued :) I have some pretty good plans for it.
     (And yes, if you're thinking what I'm thinking about the title,
     you're probably right. Orange certainly IS the new black.)
***** The Chill of Chains and Empty Eyes *****
In a place like this, you’ve gotta keep your poker face on. The shackles only
get tighter and the cells only get smaller. The people only get tougher, and
the fights get more deadly. Dean has not quite mastered the art of looking
unperturbed in this place. After all, it’s his first day. He’s never really
believed the stereotypes about juvenile delinquent facilities; until now that
is.
Everyone is so full of fear and anger. So much fucking anger in fact, that it
surrounds him as he claws his way through hoards of kids in ugly beige
jumpsuits making their way to the outside pavillion. They’re all hardened,
cold-looking thugs, who radiate belligerence and a challenging demeanor. Dean
tries to avoid any threatening movements, the last thing he needs is to get his
ass kicked on his first day here. Admittedly he could probably take one or two
of them, but he’s new here, and surely if he gets into a fight the familiar
faces are going to be the ones getting backup. Besides, he wants to get out of
here as soon as possible, get home to his family, not prolong his stay for bad
behavior. He may be a criminal, but he’s no fucking idiot. He doesn’t enjoy
being behind a metal fence everytime he steps into fresh air.
He crosses the cement of the outdoor pavillion, keeping his head down as he
treks quickly towards one of the cheap metal picnic tables by the fence. In
only a few short strides a strange, eerie boy who looks maybe seventeen, a year
older than Dean, approaches. There are three boys behind him, who look just
young enough to be here, but just old enough for it to be wrong.
“Hey there Eyelashes,” says the guy in front. He’s tall and lean with langly
limbs and scab marks across his arms. There are purple bruise-like shadows
beneath his sunken eyes and his sandy hair is falling out at each corner of his
head.
Meth.
Dean ignores his catcalling and continues toward his goal: the tables.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t make it that far. Meth Head reaches out and snags his
bicep, yanking him backwards a foot.
“Hey there Freckles I’m talkin to you,” the guy coos in the creepiest fucking
voice Dean’s ever heard, “Don’t be walkin away from me.”
“What’ll happen if he tries to walk again Al?” one of the dark haired boys with
a disturbingly eerie English accent asks menacingly.
Meth Head, or Al, chuckles, “He won’t do shit Crowley.”
“Alastair!” one of the guards leaning against the brick building across the
cement shouts, “Let the kid go or you’re gonna be punished!”
Al grumbles angrily and loosens his grip, allowing Dean to jerk free. Dean rubs
his upper arm through the thin jumpsuit and narrows his eyes at Al, “Don’t
touch me again.”
“What are you gonna do about Pretty Eyes?”
“That ain’t my name you fucker!” Dean snaps, his head and mouth disagreeing on
whether or not to cause a confrontation. The guard who’s leaning against the
wall doesn’t seem all that interested in the conflict. He’s flipping lazily
through a Cosmopolitan magazine, diverting his attention diligently.
“Sorry Eyelashes,” Al murmurs in his raspy, low voice, “what is your name kid?”
“Alastair, back the fuck off the Newbie.” a rough voice interrupts from behind
Dean before he can stutter out an answer. He turns his body slightly, getting
an eyeful of the guy who’d spoken.
He’s tall, a few inches shorter than Dean, and broad shouldered. His skin is
sun kissed, like being in a juvenile detention center hasn’t stopped him from
hitting the tanning beds. His cerulean eyes are stark against frown lines that
crease his face, and his hair is the color of black coffee. His pouty lips are
drawn down in a frown, but there’s something in his eyes that’s much more than
the petulant attitude of his stance suggests. Something electric in that cobalt
color that makes Dean’s knees turn to jello and every nerve in his body fray to
near extinction. It’s not only spine-chilling and sinister, it’s fucking
beautiful. The combination of terror and awe that bubbles up inside Dean makes
him shift uncomfortably on his feet, flustered and frightened.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Al challenges, squaring his twitchy
shoulders. His crooked yellow teeth are revealed as his chapped upper lip curls
away in a snarl.
“Meth didn’t mess up your ears you insufferable imbecile,” the boy snaps back,
raising his chin and bristling like he’s been waiting for this fight all his
life, “Leave the fucking Newbie alone.”
“Or what?” Crowley challenges, rolling his eyes, “What’s little Preacher Man
gonna do about it?”
In a second the blue-eyed boy has Crowley by the collar and his face inches
away from Crowley’s. His pin-straight nose crinkles in a disgusted sneer, “You
know what you are Crowley? You’re a piece of fucking trash. And if you and your
buddies don’t leave the new kid alone, I’m gonna come into your cell tonight,
and I’m gonna give you trash what trash deserve. You get what I’m saying you
dumb motherfucker? Do you understand me, mate?”
Crowley gulps visibly, shaking his head in a frantic motion, “Y-yes. Yes I
understand Castiel.”
Castiel throws him away, causing him to lose his footing and land on his butt,
“Don’t fucking say my name. You don’t deserve to have that celestial word on
your filthy lips.” he whirls around to face Dean, who’s been staring, shell-
shocked, “Newbie, follow me.”
Dean’s head and his body aren’t on the same page again. His legs robotically
follow the boy who’d just saved his ass, and he barely has the courage to turn
his head slightly and get a look at the ruffled group of boy’s this guy had
just intimidated.
“Don’t look at them,” Castiel orders without turning around. Dean’s eyes widen
and he whips his head back forward, watching Castiel’s long legs and thick arms
as he leads Dean over to the picnic tables he’d originally been seeking out.
Castiel plops down on one of the benches and gestures for Dean to follow his
example. Dean sits across from him, swallowing hard and staring at him like a
doe in the headlights of a Hummer.
“What’re you so spooked about Newbie?” Castiel asks as he clasps his hands
together, shuts his eyes, and leans his head over the table.
“W-what are you doing?” Dean stammers, unable to answer Castiel’s question.
The frightening boy pops one eye open and his mouth quirks sideways, “I’m
praying.” His eyes close again and his breathing slows to a relaxed, easy pace.
Dean can see him mouthing a few unintelligible words, and then he crosses
himself with his index and middle finger before looking back at Dean.
“You’re religious?” Dean blurts out stupidly. It’s clearly obvious; there’s a
glimmering gold cross hanging around his neck, he was just praying right in
front of Dean, even his name is holy.
“Dad’s a pastor. I prefer to call myself spiritual, but religious works just as
well. What about you?”
Dean swallows the lump in his throat, not daring to disagree withthis scary-as-
fuck kid, “Uh y-yeah. Church every Sunday.”
Dean has never been to church in his life.
Castiel chuckles dryly, “Not a believer? Don’t lie to me.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
This time the blue-eyed boy’s laugh is loud and shameless, “I’m not going to
kill you Newbie. You don’t have to believe what I believe.”
Dean gnaws on his lip, “You don’t uh...seem the religious type.”
“Because I’m in juvie or because every other word out of my mouth is a cuss?”
“Both I guess?”
“Well Newbie, as far as crimes go, religion is never excluded. Acts of
terrorism are heavily influenced by religion. Not to say I’m a terrorist, but
I’d like to refute your point by saying religion and crime are not mutually
exclusive. And as far as my...personality goes,” he shrugs, “I don’t think God
would mind me saving you from getting your sorry little ass beat by a bunch of
druggies. No matter the tactic.”
“Well, either way, thanks.”
Castiel is about to reply, when one of the guards shouts, “Alright inmates!
Back to your cells until dinner! Let’s go let’s go!”
Castiel rises from his seat and says, “I’ll see you later Newbie. Have a good
first night.”
Dean’s still trying to come up with a coherent answer by the time Castiel is
gone.
**
To abstain from his seemingless need to complain about everything, wouldn’t be
in Benny’s nature. Or at least, Dean thinks so. He’s known the guy all of three
hours and he’s already had it up to here with the guy’s annoying complaints.
Okay sure, his voice is pretty interesting -one of those southern Cajun drawls
that have often made Dean drool- but that doesn’t mean the words it’s coating
are any less obnoxious.
“Whaddya think brother?” Benny asks as he leans over the top bunk to peek at
Dean, “You like it here yet?”
Dean scowls sorely, “It’s not exactly the Hilton.”
Benny’s face contorts into legitimate confusion for a second, and Dean wonders
if the guy even knows what the Hilton is. He doesn’t know this kid’s
background, he could be poor as dirt. Maybe he’s never even been to a hotel. If
Dean gets saddled with a roomie who’s not seen shit outside of his small town
and asks endless questions about big city live, he cannot be accountable for
his actions.
“Uh...yeah,” Benny says after a second, “Anyway, the food’s not horrible.
Better than food at a shelter really, and you know you’re always gonna get it.
That’s kind of nice. You always know where your next meal is coming from. Where
are you from brother?”
Dean wants to strangle this blue-eyed southern menace, but he can’t help but
feel for the kid. He can’t be more than 15, and he’s managing to keep up a
disturbingly positive demeanor, despite the unsettling things coming out of his
mouth.
“I’m from Kansas City,” Dean responds, “You?”
“Oh I bet it’s nice up there. I’ve lived in lots of different places. Down
south mostly, lived in Virginia for a while. But I got sent here while I was
livin’ in Kansas. You got family?”
“Duh, everyone’s got a family,” Dean rolls his eyes, “Got a mom, dad and
brother in the city. They’re gonna come visit this weekend.”
Benny’s expression is something in between melancholy and bittersweet. His
broad lips pull up in a weak attempt at a smile that looks more like a grimace,
“That’s real nice brother.”
Dean wonders if Benny likes the nickname ‘brother’ so much, because he’s never
had one himself.
Maybe he was wrong to say everyone has a family.
**
Dinner begins and ends swiftly. Benny follows Dean to and from like a lost
little puppy who broke out of it’s muzzle. Dean allows him to ramble on as they
sit down at one of the cheap, dirty tables provided in the dining area. On his
tray is a ham sandwich, a juice box, and a sliced apple.
“Man what is this?” he demands, poking at the food with disdain, “this ain’t
food.”
Benny shrugs as he bites into his sandwich, “Tastes like food to me.”
Dean rolls his eyes, but does Benny the courtesy of turning sideways to the
southern boy doesn’t see it. Unfortunately though, when he turns his head, he
sees Castiel standing across the cafeteria. But he’s not alone. The raven-
haired boy is pushing another boy up against a wall, forearm pressing hard into
the other boy’s neck, although neither of them seem to be unwilling. At first
Dean had thought they were fighting, but as he squints and tilts his head, he
sees that Castiel has lips mashed hard against the other boy’s, and his thick
hand is stroking down the side of the blonde guy’s thigh.
“Oh,” Dean whispers out loud unintentionally.
Benny follows his gaze and nods, “That’s Castiel Novak. Seen him around?”
“Kinda,” Dean manages, “Who’s the other guy?”
He isn’t sure why he’s so surprised, or unsettling at the sight of Castiel with
a boy. Dean’s no homophobe, but he didn’t exactly expect Castiel to be
uh...playing for that team. And so...passionately.
A weird sensation courses through his body and an unexplainable feeling knocks
into his head at the thought of Castiel and some guy. He shakes his head and
blinks away the weird thoughts, turning to Benny as the younger boy answers, “I
dunno, some random guy. Probably don’t even know each other. Castiel is a
notorious slut here. You find a straight guy that he can’t charm into bed, and
I’ll buy you a gold medal.”
Dean bites his lower lip until he tastes blood, “Has he charmed you?”
Benny laughs, “Nah. He’s not into guys like me. He likes them…”he pauses for a
second before responding, “feeble.”
Dean swallows hard and averts his eyes, trying to focus on the bland food and
not the sight of Castiel shoving his tongue roughly into a stranger’s mouth. He
listens to Benny talk for the rest of the meal, trying to drone out his own
jumbled thoughts and unwanted confusions.
It’s going to be a long first night.
***** Klepto-Nympho-Maniac. *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNINGS: (mentions of rape -which I do NOT think is a subject to be
     taken lightly, despite the attitudes of fictional characters in here.
     Mentions of past abuse in the form of an injury. um and general
     mature content. Please only read what you're comfortable with!)
     Also I'd like to add, I'm definitely taking a TON of artistic
     liberties with the way this juvenile hall and justice system is run.
     I'm fairly certain it's nothing like this in real life, so don't
     expect that to be too realistic. For the sake of storytelling, this
     is like the chillest juvenile hall ever lol.
     Sorry I'm rambling, please enjoy and let me know what you think.
     Thank you!
Dean’s always been this way. He knows it, his family knows it, his friends know
it. He’s always going to be this way, there’s no denying that. There’s
something wrong with him of course, and no amount of therapists that John and
Mary Winchester overpaid to tell Dean what he already knew, could figure out
why he is who he is.
Truthfully, Dean doesn’t steal to fill a void, or because he feels like
crushing an establishment, or even just because he wants new things.
Dean steals because he fucking loves it.
The rush of snatching something off a shelf, hearing a clerk or a manager
screaming at him as he sprints as fast as he can. Running so hard, so damn
frantically that he can feel his heart hammering against his ribs. The burn in
his throat as he laughs giddily, clutching whatever stupid trinket he stole to
his chest. The fucking freedom of wind whipping his face and the freeing
screams that he lets loose as his heels burn from running and his lungs beg him
to stop. The excited adrenaline of watching his teachers fumble through their
bags, looking for a missing cell phone or wallet.
Dean almost never keeps he things he steals. When he steals money, it goes to
charity. When he steals electronics and clothing, he donates them to the
Salvation Army. When he steals things from his doctor, it goes to any Red Cross
charity organization that he can find. It’s not that he steals for the sole
purpose of donating, he’s got a ton of money, his family donates already. As
already said, Dean loves to fucking steal because it’s fun. And yeah, if a
deserving charity gets a little something from the hot merchandise he snags,
maybe that helps ease his conscience a little. But he’s no martyr, stealing is
never legal, especially stealing a 2010 Prius and crashing it into your
principal’s garage.
Which is why he wakes up to a shrill scream from one of the guards in the
Kripke Juvenile Detention Hall. His back is sore as hell, and his entire body
aches from the uncomfortable twin bed he’d slept on last night. He rolls out of
bed to find Benny already dressed and showered, fixing his beige jumpsuit up
around his skinny shoulders. The outfit looks absolutely ridiculous on the
scrawny kid, but Dean has to admit, he does look more tough than his
personality would suggest.
“What time is it?” Dean manages, scrubbing tiredly at his eyes and yawning.
Benny laughs, “It’s 5:30 brother. Don’t act like you’ve never been up before
sunrise.”
“We’re in minimum security juvie,” Dean argues, “Why the hell do we have to get
up so early?”
“You don’t have to,” Benny says, “but if you wanna get into the rec center, you
can’t sit alone in the cell all day. They lock the cells after 6:30 until it’s
time to go back. If I were you, I’d get dressed quickly brother.”
Dean sighs as he watches Benny shuffle out of the call, walking down a heavily
guarded hall towards the rec center. He grabs the flip-flops and toothbrush
he’d gotten at commissary, a towel, and his jumpsuit before padding down the
hall towards the communal bathrooms. There are still a few guys in there
showering up or using the bathroom, but only a handful. He should be able to
mostly shower in peace. He passes three occupied shower stalls, and two very
pouty looking guards, and finds himself at the stall furthest away from the
rest. Hesitantly, he strips down into the nude and starts up the shower.
He’s briefly reminded of an afternoon in the boy’s locker room after football
practice last season. It was his first time showering in front of anyone, his
teammate Ricky. He’d been nervous at first, until Ricky put his slick hands on
Dean’s waist and Dean let him shove two fingers in his ass. Of course as soon
as Dean came from that unfamiliar sensation, he’d pushed Ricky off, grabbed his
clothes, and spread the rumor that Ricky had tried to get with him. As he ran
out of the shower, he kind of felt like he did after stealing. Ricky was the
angry clerk, and Dean’s cum-stained legs were something shameful that he had to
carry with him as he sprinted away.
He shivers and pushes that thought away, focusing on meticulously scrubbing his
freckled skin. He washes his face with a bar of soap and sets about brushing
his teeth, trying to do so speedily so he doesn’t miss the cut-off for
recreational time.
“Wow look at you Newbie,” a familiar, raspy voice says from behind him. Dean
whirls on his heel at the sudden sound, slipping on his bar of soap and
knocking his bare body against the side of the shower stall. Castiel stands
before him, nude, with a towel slung over his shoulder and a bag of toiletries
in his hand. He looks amused at Dean’s flustered behavior as Dean covers
himself with his hands, face burning crimson.
Dean can’t help himself; he has a quick moment to take Castiel in. Tall and
broad shouldered, with tanned skin and muscled arms that shape his torso. A
brilliant white smile and dazzling azure eyes that peek out from his sleep-
mussed dark hair. Although his face is youthful, probably no older than 17, he
carries himself with the confidence and allure of any adult Dean’s ever met.
Dean’s scrutiny finds him staring wildly at a peculiar scar on Castiel’s
abdomen. It runs from his belly button up the side of his stomach and cuts off
just below his right pectoral. It looks like a knife carving that teters off
into a awful white burn.
“Getting an eyeful?” Castiel teases confidently.
“What are you doing!?” Dean demands, breaking out of his weird stupor,
stumbling backwards as Castiel puts a hand on his hip expectantly.
“Making conversation,” Castiel grins as he steps into the stall beside Dean and
starts up the water, “how was your first night? Anybody give you any trouble?”
“N-No,” he manages, taking a deep breath now that Castiel’s dick is out of
sight. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to see though...not that Dean was gay
or anything, but he could appreciate when a guy had it going on down there.
“Really?” Castiel sounds slightly surprised, “Face like yours? Body like yours
and nobody tried anything? What’s wrong with you then?”
“What are you suggesting?” Dean chokes out, “Are you asking me if someone tried
to rape me?”
Castiel snorts, “Well when you put it that way it doesn’t sound as sexy.”
“Rape is not sexy! And nobody raped me!”
“I guess that’s good. But c’mon,” Castiel leans over the top of the separating
wall in the shower and smiles at Dean, raven hair plastered against his
forehead, “Are you saying you’d resist the sexual advances?”
“From guys? Yeah.”
Castiel tilts his head sideways and ponders this for a moment before saying, “I
think you’re lying.”
“Excuse me?” Dean argues, “Look dude whatever you’re into is fine but-”
“Oh I’m into everything,” Castiel interrupts as he continues to scrub his body
clean, “You name it I love it.”
Dean grumbles under his breath, “I’m sure.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Just, look, can you not talk to me while we shower?”
“You know I never got your name,” Castiel ignores Dean’s request as he
continues to shower, “I’m guessing it’s not Newbie.”
Dean sighs, “It doesn’t matter.”
“I told you mine you know.”
“Yeah I know Cas but it’s ju-”
“What did you just say?” Castiel has stopped showering completely, and he’s
looking at Dean with the widest cobalt gaze ever. Shampoo suds drizzle down the
sides of his face from his thick hair, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Dean swallows, “I’m sorry.” he says immediately, terrified of Castiel’s
unreadable expression, “It was just easier than Castiel. I didn’t mean to...I
dunno, disrespect the name or anything.”
Cas stares at him a bit longer, seeming almost disbelieving. Then, he snaps out
of it and blinks rapidly, “No..no it’s fine. Just...nobody’s called me that in
a long time.” he swallows hard and shakes his head once, “Anyway, we were
talking about you, not me. What’s the name there Newbie?”
“Uh I’m Dean.”
“Dean.” Cas grins as he finishes rinsing his hair and shuts off the water,
shaking his head like a wet dog. He ties a towel loosely around his waist and
pads out of the stall towards the exit, stopping once to say to Dean, “By the
way, those freckles on your thighs? Very cute."
He exits the bathroom like that interaction had been perfectly normal.
Dean falls against the shower wall once more, sucking in a deep breath and
wondering how the hell this stranger has him, on more than one occasion, so
confused and flustered.
**
Dean steps into the recreation hall, looking around desperately for a familiar
face that is anyone but Castiel. He sees Benny and some other guy across the
room playing cards, but they seem occupied so he doesn’t want to interject and
take Benny from the game. Instead, he just heads towards one of the couches and
people-watches. There are a few card games happening, a group of guys watching
a battered VHS tape of Flubber, and several just sitting around boredly
talking. Dean sits silently, half-heartedly glancing at the movie every so
often. He isn’t sure why he let Benny convince him to come to rec time. He’d
been planning to just stay in the cell for the duration of his 18 month stay,
with the exception of Saturday’s when his family comes to visit. He sighs, two
more days and then he can see them. He just needs to survive two more days of
this.
Honestly, he’d thought juvie would be more...exciting.
**
Breakfast passes lamely, and Dean listens to Benny talk loudly for an hour.
Benny introduces him to a few new people, some guy named Garth -who’s really
weird and uses a sock puppet to communicate- and this guy named Kevin. Neither
of them are particularly interesting, save Garth’s inability to speak without
the squeaky voice of Mr. Fizzles, and Dean finds himself actually hoping to see
Castiel.
He finishes his bland eggs and departs his tray, heading back with the lull of
teenage prisoners back to the outside pavillion. This time when he heads
towards the picnic bench, Alastair and his douchey friends don’t say anything,
but Al eyes him like Dean’s a freshly butchered steak. That’s not good. Dean
plops down at the table, turning his back and avoiding the hole-burning stares
of Al and Crowley, before he once again hears Castiel speak from behind him,
“Don’t worry about them. They won’t mess with you as long as I’m here.”
“Well then you better stay,” Dean mumbles, as Cas sits across from him, “Cause
I don’t need to get my ass pummeled on my second day here.”
Cas laughs, “Don’t worry Newbie, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You know, I told you my name.”
“Yes, Dean. Fits you pretty well I guess, but Newbie is so much more you.”
Dean rolls his eyes, “Alright Cas, whatever.”
Once again upon hearing the nickname, Cas startles for a moment, but quickly
regains his composure, “I suppose I could do worse in terms of new friends
though.”
Dean chuckles dryly, “I suppose you could.”
Cas tilts his head to the side curiously again and says, “So Dean, how long is
your stay here at Casa De Jumpsuit?”
Dean snorts, “Got 18 months. How about you?”
Castiel grimaces, “Ten years.”
Dean pales, “Ten years? How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“How old were you when you got here?”
“Thirteen.”
Dean suppresses the gasp that’s making it’s way up his throat. Castiel has been
here four years. Dean barely survived one day.
“But when you turn 18 you’re going to have to-”
“Real prison,” Cas interjects, “I know.”
Dean stares at him, “What the hell did you do?”
Castiel gnaws on his lower lip for a moment before replying, “What do you think
gets you ten years?”
Dean swallows hard at the expression on Cas’ face. His steely blue eyes are
hard and guarded, a warning look plastered across his face. Dean fidgets under
the darkening expression on Castiel’s face, and changes the subject quickly.
“Don’t know what anyone could do to deserve the food here,” he mutters weakly.
Luckily, Castiel picks up the conversation shift with ease, “True. I bet the
cook here was hired to punish us personally.”
Dean laughs nervously and they endure the rest of the conversation with light,
meaningless chat that makes him feel sick to his stomach.
The entire time he talks to Cas about the basketball game happening tomorrow,
he can’t help but catch that cerulean gaze and wonder who the hell Castiel
Novak is.
***** Only Human *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING: Graphic description of violence and injuries and blood and
     all that yucky stuff!
     Here's chapter 3, sorry I'm uploading it so soon. I just am getting
     more into this fic than I expected!
     Thanks for commenting and kudos and stuff, means a lot to me!
     Please enjoy and let me know what you think :)
     (ALSO: if anyone is triggered by something I didn't tag PLEASE tell
     me, no matter how unusual it is. I don't want anyone getting
     triggered to do something bad because of this. You can comment
     possible triggers here or message my Tumblr -Boopernatural- if you
     want to let me know. Just wanted to make this clear, if you're
     feeling uncomfortable or unsafe because I didn't properly warn please
     let me know!)
On Dean’s third day, he doesn’t see Cas in the showers. He eats breakfast and
lunch with Benny, Garth and Kevin. He sits lazily in the rec room and watches
Flubber again. He still doesn’t see Cas. By the time it’s time for outside rec
time his skin is itching and he’s fidgeting uncomfortably. He isn’t sure why
Castiel’s presence, or lack thereof, has such a stark effect on him. He exits
the building, and pauses, scanning the crowd of jumpsuits. He doesn’t see those
cobalt eyes anywhere.
He turns to Benny, who’s just about to join a basketball game, and asks, “Hey,
do you know where Castiel is?”
Benny glances around and shrugs, “Probably had an appeal hearing.”
“A what?”
Kevin butts in, “An appeal hearing? It’s this thing they give the kids who have
long sentences. Once every year they go to this courtroom and plead their case.
Maybe with new evidence or just a chance to beg.”
Dean arches an eyebrow, “You seem smart.”
“I’m in-” he pauses and looks down sadly, “I was in advanced placement.”
“How’d you end up here?” Dean asks nervously.
Benny cuts off Kevin’s reply, “Don’t ask that here brother. Haven’t you ever
seen a movie? You don’t ask a guy why he’s locked up.”
“It’s fine,” Kevin interrupts, “I vandalized the schools librarian for banning
Catcher In The Rye.”
Dean stares at him in disbelief, and Kevin defends himself, “What? That book is
a classic and it’s a disgusting insult to any true fans of literature to have
such art banned for brief vulgarity. They can’t handle reality.”
Benny laughs loudly and coos, “Way to live up to the Asian stereotype Kev.”
Kevin snorts, “I hate southerners.”
Garth -er, Mr. Fizzles- decides to chime in now, “Wanna know what I did?”
“No,” Benny and Kevin hiss at the same time, before jogging to join the
basketball game and gesturing for Dean to follow. Dean hangs back, stuffing his
hands nervously in his pockets as he watches Garth trail behind. He’s not in
the mood for basketball; he just wants to see Cas. Make sure he’s okay. He
walks boredly around the pavillion, watching hordes of misbehaved teenagers
messing around and shouting. It’s all very droll. He ends up back at his and
Castiel’s table, thinking about the other boy. He wonders if Cas really is at
an appeal hearing. He wonders how it’s going; hopefully well. The last thing he
needs on his hands is an even more moody and angsty Castiel.
He shudders at the thought of that, but then he thinks he’d prefer a moody Cas
to no Cas at all.
He’s just about to ask himself when the hell he got so affectionate for his
weird, criminal bodyguard, when he hears a voice behind him, “Hey there
Eyelashes, where’s your boyfriend?”
He twists sideways and springs to his feet in alarm as he stands face-to-face
with Alastair, Crowley, and their posse.
“He ain’t my boyfriend,” Dean snarls, squaring his shoulders and trying to seem
more intimidating than he really is. Dean may have them by a few inches when it
comes to height -he’s already a staggering 6’1, even taller than Castiel- but
years of sprinting whenever he got the chance and not being interested in fast
food has left him with a lean, thin body that will do nothing for him in a
fight. Al and Crowley both look like they’ve been heavyweight champions since
preschool, which doesn’t make him feel too great about facing them head on.
Alone. Cas is supposed to be here. He said he’s not going anywhere.
But he’s gone, and Dean is staring stupidly at these very angry juveniles, who
look ready to turn his ass into dog food. 
”Yeah whatever Eyelashes,” Al rolls his eyes and moves forward. Dean stumbles
back, his ass hitting the table as he grabs the side of it for support.
Now would be a good time to swoop in and save me Cas, he thinks fearfully.
“Doesn’t matter where he is,” Crowley snaps, “He’s not here. Castiel is gone
for now.”
“Don’t say his name,” Dean manages, because he knows if Cas was here he’d break
Crowley’s teeth for doing that.
“You’re not in charge here,” Al growls, hands clenching into fists, “And we’re
not too happy with the way you ducked out of initiation the other day.”
“There are guards everywhere,” Dean says, attempting what he hopes is a logical
appeal as to why his face doesn’t need rearranging, “You’re going to get in
huge trouble if they see this.”
Al barks out a bitter laugh and points around him, “You see those three guards?
One of them is reading a magazine, one is smoking a cigarette, and the other?
You think that fat fuck is gonna stop eating his lunch to break up a tussle
between two worthless delinquents?”
Much to his dismay, Al’s argument makes a bit more sense than Dean’s.
“See Freckles? You just don’t get it.” Al shakes his head and takes another
step closer to Dean, who’s pinned against the table and motionless, “That’s why
we gotta teach you. You really think you matter in here? You think you matter
anywhere? No. You’re just one troubled teen in a fucking world of them. You’re
naive and stupid, so we gotta teach you. Nothing personal Eyelashes,” Al
flashes him a disgusting yellow smile and murmurs, “I really do hate to mess up
such a pretty face.”
“Please?” Dean croaks as Alastair shoots a hand out and grabs a fistful of
Dean’s collar, “Please don’t.”
“Aw, little guy is begging.” Crowley coos, “Al can I hit him first?”
“No!”
“Yes,” Alastair corrects Dean’s frantic plea, “Go ahead.”
Crowley chuckles and cracks one of his knuckles before approaching. The first
time he hits Dean, Dean cries out. The second time, Dean groans out an angry
cuss. The third time, he begs him to stop.
The fourth time, he calls out to Cas.
“What was that Freckles?” Crowley demands, running a bloodstained fist
teasingly down Dean’s split lower lip, “You want your Preacher Man?”
Dean looks away, hoping his black eye is swollen shut too tightly for him to
see the wetness of it.
“C’mon Eyelashes,” Al says as he grabs the back of Dean’s neck and drags him
down to the pavement, squishing his cheek against cement, “You ain’t ever been
in a fight before?”
Dean ignores him, biting his tongue so hard he tastes blood mingling from that
and the cut in his lip. He can no longer see out of his right eye, and the side
of his head is throbbing from the force of Alastair’s disgusting shoe pressing
it into the ground.
“Fuck you!” Al shouts, rearing back and planting a forceful kick straight into
Dean’s ribs. Dean gasps, coughing desperately as he sucks in some much needed
air and clutches at the agony in his stomach.
“Fucking pussy can’t take a hit,” Crowley snorts as he offers another generous
kick to Dean’s knee, which makes a pop! noise but only hurts for a second.
“Hey, you idjits get off him!” the gruff voice of the cigarette-smoking
security guard yells from a few feet away. Dean can barely see, his vision
altered and blurred by his injuries, but he halfway spots a scraggly brown
beard and a name tag that reads “Robert Singer.”
“Get the fuck away before I send your asses to solitude!” Singer shouts,
sending the boys scattering with mumbled apologies. Once they’re gone, the
guard looks down to Dean and says, “Get up boy.”
“I can’t,” Dean croaks, still hugging his arm around his stomach in pain.
The guard rolls his eyes and says, “I walked ten miles back to base with a
slugger in my leg during Vietnam, you can stand the fuck up after gettin’ a
little scraped up. Now c’mon boy before I lose my patience and make you do
jumping jacks.”
Slowly, Dean makes the painful ascent and shakily rises to his feet, coughing
and wheezing as the intense pain in his ribs protests. The guard looks him up
and down and says, “You don’t look all that bad. Head to the bathrooms and get
your face cleaned up. Dinner starts in an hour.” Dean stares at the man, who
stares right back, “Well what is it idjit? Cat got your tongue?”
“N-no sir,” Dean manages weakly, “Sorry.”
“Call me Bobby kid. Now get cleaned up and I’ll take care of those punks.”
“Thank you Bobby.”
“You’re pushin it, now go!”
Dean turns away from him and pushes through the other kids, who seem utterly
unperturbed at the sight of a bloody, beaten kid and a group of jackasses who
have no trouble bludgeoning perfect strangers. He swallows hard and grimaces as
he tastes blood go down his throat, arriving at the bathrooms and limping on
his injured knee. He’s not sure what happened there, but each movement sends a
sharp zing of pain dancing up his leg. He makes his way to one of the sinks and
turns the cold water on full blast, splashing his face with it a few times
before looking in the mirror.
Dean looks rough.
One of his viridescent eyes is black and purple around the lid and under it.
It’s swollen and hard to see out of, but not so much that it requires serious
medical attention. His lower lip is split pretty bad, and still bleeding, so he
takes extra care washing and rinsing it. There’s a long, jagged cut high on his
cheekbone under his black eye, it’s not too deep seeing as Crowley’s class ring
-probably belonging to a family member, since he’s not yet 18- caused it. He
unbuttons his jumpsuit and lifts the white t-shirt underneath to reveal two
fist-sized, dark bruises coloring his side over his ribs. He washes his face
thoroughly and takes a little time to spread some cool water over his ribs,
although it hurts like hell and has him grinding his teeth so hard he can hear
it. Then, he closes up his jumpsuit, scrubs away the blood that’s collecting on
his neck and collar, and checks himself over. He looks a little better, now
that the corners of his injuries are clear-cut and not meshed together with
blood. But it’s still inherently obvious that someone with serious anger issues
kicked his ass ruthlessly.
Sighing softly, he exits the bathroom, getting used to the ache in his leg and
limping a little less. Dinner has already started, and he spots Benny, Garth
and Kevin eating already. He moves towards them, but when he reaches their
table, Kevin stops him, “Maybe you shouldn’t sit with us tonight Dean.”
Dean pauses, startled, “Huh?”
“It’s not you brother…” Benny insists, glancing behind Dean at the table Al and
Crowley are occupying, “We just don’t...uh...want to get on their bad side.”
Dean is about to speak, when a voice from behind him demands, “Would you prefer
to be on my bad side?”
Dean turns around and his breath catches as he comes face-to-face with Castiel.
“Cas,” he breathes, “you’re here.”
Cas looks away from Benny and his challenging expression melts into one of
shock and disbelief, “Newbie what the hell happened to your face!?” he grabs
Dean’s chin in one hand and examines Dean’s injuries like he’s some kind of
expert.
“I’m fine,” Dean lies, pushing him gently away, although he’s flattered at the
concern.
“Alastair,” Cas snarls, his brilliant azure eyes darkening menacingly as the
name exits his broad lips.
“Man it’s fine,” Dean says, grabbing Castiel’s arm as he turns for Al’s table,
“Cas don’t! Hey, look it’s fine! Don’t do anything to get yourself in more
trouble! Cas, hey look at me!”
Cas turns slightly, his lip curled up like a feral animal, “He hurt you.”
“I’m okay. Really, look I’m fine man it doesn’t even hurt. It’s whatever. Tell
me about your day, let’s sit down.”
It’s not so much that Dean doesn’t want Cas to hurt Alastair… it’s more than
he’s afraid of seeing what Cas is capable of.
Cas sighs and allows his shoulders to relax as he throws an arm around Dean -
who doesn’t protest because he’s just relieved that Cas isn’t murdering anyone-
and leads him to an empty table. They sit across from each other, while Cas
just stares silently at Dean with that stupid unreadable expression that drives
Dean insane.
“You gotta say something,” Dean murmurs nervously.
Cas sighs, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s not your job to be.”
“But look at you. God that looks awful Dean.”
“Tell me about your day Cas. Did you have an appeal hearing?”
“Yeah I did. How’d you know?”
“Kevin told me. How’d it go?”
Cas shrugs, rolling his eyes nonchalantly, “Same as it always does I’m sure. Do
you want some food?”
Dean shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. His stomach is killing
him since the nasty bruises Al left on his ribs, and he doesn’t think putting
food between his split lips would feel too great anyway, “Not hungry.”
“You sure?”
“Why are you so...protective?”
Cas laughs, “Cause Newbie, it looks like if I don’t protect you, no one will.”
Dean runs a tentative finger across his lip and winces, “I guess I appreciate
it, despite the abnormality of it.”
Cas shrugs, “Abnormality is my specialty.” he glances over his shoulder at
Benny, “Guess you haven’t exactly made the best friends here.”
“Who knew they’d ditch me as soon as Al declared his dislike for me?”
Cas chuckles, “I did. Want me to sleep in your cell tonight?”
Dean cocks an eyebrow dubiously, “Are you coming on to me? Is that what this
is?”
Castiel snorts jokingly, “Trust me Newbie, you’d know if I was coming on to
you.”
Dean blushes, finding a sudden interest in the floor, “It doesn’t matter
anyway, you can’t just switch ce-”
“Hey Benjamin!” Castiel calls to Benny, who’s been avoiding both his and Dean’s
stare this whole time.
“Yeah brother?”
“We’re switching cells!”
“Alright.”
Cas turns back to Dean, “Peachy?”
“You can’t do that Cas. They’re gonna notice you’re not-”
“They don’t care who the fuck is in that bed as long as their count is high
enough.” Cas argues, “We’re not individuals here Newbie, we’re statistics.”
Dean swallows hard, trying not to compare Castiel’s words to Al telling him he
doesn’t matter.
“Well…” Dean manages, “If you think it’s a good idea for us to share a cell I
guess I don’t have a problem with it.”
Cas grins, “Knew you wouldn’t. Don’t worry, you’re going to love sleeping with
me.”
Dean fidgets, and hopes for both of their sakes that Castiel intends to sleep,
and do nothing more.
***** Appearances *****
Chapter Notes
     Oh man...I totally loved writing this chapter. My anti-depressants
     have seriously started helping me get a little more motivated to
     actually do a good job with my writing, so I hope this is enjoyable!
     Thank you all for the great and constructive comments! Really makes
     my day so much better! I love you all muah!
     Please enjoy :)
     (Also, you should listen to Porcelain, by Red Hot Chili Peppers if
     you haven't heard it. Might give you some insight on what goes
     through Castiel's mind.)
The first night with Castiel is tense, to say the least. The entire night he
whispers to Dean in the dark, asking him questions about himself and some are
so personal that they make Dean glad his blush isn’t visible in the pitch black
shade of their cell.
“So what did you do to get in?” Cas rasps quietly, leaning down to look at Dean
from the top bunk.
Dean sighs and rolls on his side, gritting his teeth when his ribs scream in
agony; he probably cracked a few, “Benny said you’re not supposed to ask that.”
“Benny is an idiot street kid who’s probably in here for holding up a
convenience store,” Cas grumbles, “Don’t listen to that jerk.”
Dean bites his lip and winces, tasting blood, “I steal.”
“You steal?”
“I steal.”
There’s a pause, “Well what do you steal?”
“Um, anything.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll steal anything.”
“That doesn’t make any sense Newbie. People steal when they don’t have shit.”
Dean huffs out his breath and returns to lying on his back, which is a little
easier on his ribs, “I don’t steal out of necessity.”
Cas’ brows pull down, “So what? You steal for fun?”
“Don’t act like such a martyr,” Dean grumbles brazenly, “You’re in here too.”
Cas sighs and licks his lips, “I dunno Newbie, seems kinda ridiculous that
you’d get yourself locked up just because. There’s gotta be something more.”
“It’s thrilling Cas, I don’t know.”
“So, it’s the adrenaline?”
Dean shrugs, “I guess so.”
“What, are you dead inside or something?”
“Damn Castiel what kind of question is that!”
“What? I find that to be a perfectly innocent question.”
“No I’m not dead inside, what the hell?”
“Well I don’t know Newbie your behavior would suggest otherwise.”
“Are you dead inside?”
Cas grins and chuckles softly, “Yup.”
Dean quirks an eyebrow up, “Oh really? You’re dead inside?”
“Duh.”
“Why do you say that Castiel?”
“Oh c’mon,” Cas rolls his eyes and flops off the side of the top bunk, landing
neatly on his heels and sitting beside Dean’s cot so they’re face-to-face,
“Everybody in here is dead. You will be too.”
Dean frowns and turns to face Cas, “No I won’t be. I only have 18 months. Then,
I’ll be back to my family Cas.”
Cas smiles and trails his tongue along the length of his lower lip. Dean finds
himself watching the movement with unrelenting attention. The way those broad,
plump lips part over his surprisingly white teeth, and his long, smooth tongue
runs across the soft flesh of his mouth...Dean’s not sure why he’s got chills
on his arms.
He blinks rapidly as Cas responds, “Newbie, by the time you’re out of here,
your family won’t even know who you are.”
Dean swallows the lump in his throat and says, “I’m tired Cas.”
Castiel nods once and climbs back up to his bunk, “Night Newbie.”
“Wish you’d call me by my name dude.”
Cas chuckles softly, “When pigs fly Newbie, when pigs fly.”
**
Dean awakens to the sound of singing.
For a moment, he thinks he’s back home. His mom used to sing every morning; she
sang while she cooked, she sang while she cleaned, she sang while she worked.
Mary was always singing. She'd sing The Beatles or Queen to soothe Dean or get
him excited. She had a lovely voice, the kind that made Dean's heart warm and
his eyes watery.
But it’s not his mom this time, it’s Castiel. Cas is pulling on his jumpsuit
and fixing his hair, singing in a low, off-key voice. Dean pauses for a moment
before recognizing the song.
“You like Red Hot Chili Peppers,” Dean says as he sits up.
Cas startles a little, and for the first time Dean sees him looking unprepared
and embarrassed, as opposed to his usual confident demeanor.
He chuckles nervously and scratches his neck, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Nah, I like that song.” Dean assures him and whistles the tune of Porcelain
quietly.
“Me and that song have been through quite a lot,” Cas mumbles tentatively.
Dean tilts his head with interest, “What do you mean?”
He sighs and shrugs, finishing the final button on his jumpsuit, “Doesn’t
matter. Your family coming today?”
Dean nods as he tentatively gets out of bed, gasping a little as his ribs and
face ache from the beating he took yesterday. He quickly pulls his pj shirt up
to run his fingers along the dark bruises that seem to have gotten worse over
the night, groaning.
“Damn Newbie,” Cas says, staring at Dean’s ribs with wide eyes, “That looks
fucking nasty.”
“Thanks.” Dean mutters, rubbing his side and cringing, “Who knew prison
sneakers could do damage like this.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Yeah it hurts.”
Cas is about to respond, when a guard passes the cell, shouting, “Winchester,
Novak! You’ve both got visitors, get the hell up and get moving!”
“You overslept a little,” Cas explains as Dean scrambles to his small dresser
and yanks out a fresh jumpsuit.
“I don’t even have time to brush my teeth.” Dean complains, shimmying sloppily
into his outfit.
“Here,” Cas perks up, reaching under his pillow and digging around in his
sheets for a moment before producing an apple, “Natural breath freshener.”
Dean catches the fruit as Cas’ tosses it to him, and examines it closely,
“Where’d you get this?”
“I always keep food after meals,” the blue-eyed boy shrugs, “I’ve got low blood
sugar. C’mon, families are waiting.”
Dean follows Cas into the hall and crunches into the apple as a guard locks
their cell door behind them. They walk down the corridors and Cas chats with
him lightly. Dean half pays attention to what he’s saying, getting excited to
see his family. They pass the rec room, where several inmates are still seated
dejectedly. None of them are playing games or goofing off, they seem...reserved
and well behaved. Benny and Garth are sitting on a couch, but neither are
speaking to each other. Endless pairs of dead teenage eyes lock hopelessly on
yet another showing of Flubber.
“What’s up with them?” Dean mumbles to Cas as he tosses the apple core in a
nearby waste bin.
Cas glances over his shoulder as they pass the rec room, “Always like that on
visiting day. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a family to visit them
Newbie.”
“Oh...well how about you? What’s your family like?” Dean figures since they’re
coming to visit, they can’t be all that bad. Especially since whatever Cas did
to get ten years has to be pretty extreme.
Cas’ jaw clenches up tight as he and Dean enter the visiting room, “They’re
shit Newbie. Look, I think I see your family.”
“How can you tell?” Dean demands, scanning the room for a familiar face.
He looks back at Cas, who’s grinning, “you look just like your mom.”
Dean follows Castiel’s gaze until his green eyes land on the family sitting at
the table nearest the back. His breath catches as his eyes settle on his
mother’s face. Completely forgetting the existence of his bodyguard/roommate,
Dean jerks into a sprint and meets his mom halfway, their bodies colliding in a
painful, yet worth-it, embrace.
“Mom,” he manages, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla that somehow
always surrounds his mother. He feels like crying; he regrets every time he
ever gave her attitude or talked back. He’d never known how much he could miss
his mom, even after only three days.
“Dean,” she whispers back, stroking his neck and lacing her fingers through the
fine hair on his head, “I don't think we're supposed to touch.”
They pull away and stare at each other for a moment, as if drinking in the
sight of one another. Then, she seems to notice the abrasions on her son’s
face, “Dean baby what happened?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he manages, leaning around her waist, “Sammy!”
He surges towards his little brother, who jumps up with the same effervescence
Dean feels. Their bodies knock together harshly, and Dean grips the twelve-
year-old with more force than he thought possible.
“Sammy,” he mumbles, “How’re you doin buddy?”
“I miss you,” Sam complains, hugging Dean’s waist tight.
“I miss you too squirt,” Dean pulls away before he starts that ugly snotty
crying he’s accustomed to exhibiting after being away from his little brother.
They sit down at one of the round plastic tables and face John.
“Hi Dad.” Dean greets the older man formally.
“Son.” John replies in a clipped tone, eyes scanning his son’s face
scrutinizingly, “What happened to your face?”
Dean swallows hard, getting up the courage to tell his dad what happened, “I
got beat up. It’s fine. They took care of it.”
He isn’t sure if the guards actually took care of it, since Alastair and
Crowley had been seemingly unpunished at dinner, but he doesn’t want his family
to do something unnecessary. The last thing he needs is the people here
thinking he’s some kind of weakling whose mommy jumps in to save him when he
gets hurt.
“I hate this place,” Mary mutters, looking around in disdain, “This is the
nicest facility they’ve got? Really?”
“Mary please,” John murmurs evenly, “This place is not a reward it’s a
punishment.”
“I know that John,” she responds curtly, “But still they could take better care
of-”
“Can we not spend Dean’s visit arguing?” Sam cuts in, giving his parents a
pointed look and gesturing to the stoic attitude Dean has adopted.
Mary shakes her head as if to clear it and plasters a smile across her face,
“So Dean, how are you doing? Have you made any friends?”
Dean purses his lips, he wonders if Benny still counts seeing as he wasn’t
interested in Dean after finding out Al didn’t like him. He decides his
confusing relationship with Castiel could count as friendship.
“Yeah a few. The kids here can be...rough around the edges.”
“I can imagine,” Sam says, glancing around the room at jumpsuit-clad inmates
talking to their families, “They look scary. Are you okay here?”
“Ah don’t worry about me squirt,” Dean smiles as he ruffles his brother’s
ridiculously shaggy hair, “I’m gonna be fine. There’s a kid here who...kind of
takes care of me.”
“He let that happen to your face,” John grumbles, “Can’t be too good at his
job.”
“John,” Mary interjects, giving her husband a warning look.
“No it’s fine mom,” Dean shakes his head, eyeing his dad head-on, “Dad you can
think whatever you like. I’m not worried about my safety as long as Castiel is
here.”
“Castiel huh?” Mary smiles teasingly at Dean, “That’s a cute name. What’s he
like?”
“Who cares if his name is cute?”
“Shut it John I’m talking to my son.”
“He’s fine mom.” Dean ignores his father and tries to focus on his mother and
brother, “He’s a little...intimidating. But, I think I can handle him.”
“Well be careful,” John cuts in, “You never know what might happen in a place
like this. Young men get lonely...bonds form…things happen that you don't mean
to happen.”
Dean wrinkles his nose, “Uh...what are you trying to say?”
“You know what I’m trying to say Dean.”
“Are you telling me not to fuck him?”
“Dean Henry Winchester!” John gasps, face-red, “How dare yo-”
“Like that isn’t what you were saying!” Dean snaps back defensively, “Maybe you
shouldn’t have come if you were just here to reprimand me and warn me about the
dangers of gay sex!”
“Fine,” John seethes, “Then I won’t come back you spoiled little klepto!”
He rises angrily and grabs Sam’s arm, “C’mon. Let your mom and Dean say
goodbye.”
“Bye Sammy, see you soon.” Dean says to his brother as John drags him away.
“Don’t count on that!” John hisses, and he and Sam exit before either sibling
can react. Dean turns back to his mom, who’s pinching the bridge of her nose
with her index and middle finger.
She sucks in a breath through her teeth and gathers Dean into her arms, “I’m
sorry honey. He is so ridiculous sometimes.”
“So leave him,” Dean mutters for the millionth time in his life.
“We’ve had this conversation before Dean,” Mary reminds him, “I love your
father. I’ll try to convince him to let me bring Sam next weekend...but don’t
expect more than me.”
“I love you.” Dean says, clinging to her blouse.
“Love you too hon. I will see you next Saturday.” she kisses his knuckles, then
gently brushes her lips over the bruises on his face, and just as quickly as
she’d come, she’s gone.
Sighing at the speediness of that conversations descent, he begins to move
towards the exit of the room back into the rec room. He passes Castiel’s table,
who barely seems to notice him, engulfed in a discussion with three men who
look a little like him.
Curious about anything from Cas’ past, Dean ducks behind one of the vending
machines, pleased that he’s thin enough to hide and still be able to see and
hear the conversation.
“...not our fault you ended up here Castiel!” one of them is saying
defensively.
“I know that Lucifer,” Cas growls back, clenching his fists, “But you couldn’t
have tried to convince him to come?”
“Cas, you know how Dad can be,” another one of them murmurs.
Cas seems to stiffen at the nickname, shoulders tensing as something dark
crosses his eyes. “Don’t call me that Gabriel,” he snaps, “You have to earn
that.”
Dean frowns, what the hell has he done to earn the nickname that Castiel’s
family hasn’t?
“Castiel,” the other one interrupts, “We’re your brothers, and we’ll always be
here for you, but this is kind of a big request.”
“C’mon Michael,” Cas insists, fists tightening, “I have a chance to get out of
here, stop serving time for something I didn’t do! And you won’t even try to
help me?”
“Cas if Dad goes to jail we’re all going to be bankrupt,” Gabriel argues, “You
took the rap because you’re generous. You agreed to serve ten years when you
took the blame.”
“I was thirteen! I would’ve done anything for that greedy bastard! But I can’t
do it anymore!” Cas hisses back under his breath, teeth grinding together
audibly.
“Well you made your decision Cas.” Michael retorts, “And now you’re dealing
with the consequences.”
“I can’t fucking believe this! You’d rather see your innocent little brother
rot away in prison than your fucking monster of a father put away for something
he did? I have a chance to get out and you’re going to throw it away?”
“Watch your language.” Lucifer scolds primly, “This place has turned you into a
sacrilegious, vulgar, teenage vagrant.”
“Who’s fucking fault is that?” Castiel challenges furiously.
“We’re leaving now.” Michael tells him, getting up from his seat as the three
brothers follow, “See you next weekend.”
They turn and begin walking towards the outside exit, their walking almost
synchronized.
"Yeah well...don’t come back!” Castiel shouts after them, “Cause I won’t want
to see you!”
Lucifer turns, hand on the door and says, “Fine. We won’t come.”
The door slams behind them. Dean watches with the same sick fascination as
someone watching a car wreck would. The room is nearly empty of any inmates or
visitors now, only one guard lazily flopped over one of the loveseats in the
corner, half paying attention. Castiel stands in the midst of a swarm of empty
tables, fuming and frustrated. His head drops into his hands and he lets out
one shaky, uncontrolled grunt, before sucking in a deep breath, composing
himself, and returning to the rec room with the confident aura he always
carries.
Dean thinks he’s just seen the aftermath of Castiel’s unfailing, faux credence
in himself.
***** Trapped *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNINGS: gender dysphoria, self hatred, internalized homophobia/
     transphobia, transphobic behavior and general mature content. Please
     please PLEASE don't read anything that might upset you or trigger
     you! Stay safe!
     Please enjoy and let me know what you think (:
     Thanks xx
Dean tries his hardest to avoid Castiel after the encounter with his family,
but it’s kind of hard to do that while sharing a cell with him. It’s not that
he no longer wants to see Cas, it’s just that he’s terrified and confused about
what he saw. What had Castiel meant when he said he hadn’t committed the crime?
Okay, well obviously he meant he hadn’t committed the crime, but who did? Had
he really taken the blame to protect his father?And if so, what the hell is
Dean supposed to do? He can’t let Cas rot away in jail for the next six years,
but he also can’t just walk up to a guard and say, “Hey you see that big scary
hardened criminal over there? He’s innocent, it’s really his father, the
pastor, who did the bad thing!”
The weekend passes slowly, and on Monday morning, Dean finds himself in the rec
room beside Castiel and a bunch of other guys. The morning is calm, droll even.
Nothing interesting has happened over the weekend, save Dean’s witnessing of
Castiel’s confession of innocence.
“Man I’m so fucking sick of this movie,” one of the guys says. He looks a
little familiar, kind of short with curly blonde hair and petite features, “if
I have to see Robin Williams and this fucking blob of green shit one more time,
I cannot be held accountable for my actions.”
Castiel laughs from his spot on the couch across from the blonde guy, “Jo,
there are other VHS tapes behind the TV, we’re all just too fucking lazy to
actually change them.”
Jo shrugs lazily, “That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to complain.”
Dean chuckles and returns his attention to the movie. A few more minutes pass
uneventfully, and then, Dean hears a familiar voice, “Hey Eyelashes!”
He freezes beside Castiel, body stiffening and going completely rigid. The
black eye on his face aches, the split in his lip burns, and his ribs rattle.
Alastair approaches the couch, and Dean sees Cas bristle out of his peripheral
vision.
“Hey man,” Al says pointedly to Jo, “see what I did to this kid's face?”
“Yeah,” Jo mutters, “Think you’re a real coward too.”
Al wrinkles his nose, “I oughtta do the same to you.”
“Oh Al, you wouldn’t hit a girl.”
“You ain’t no girl, freak.”
Jo’s voice is laced with sarcasm, “Oh gee, I’m wounded.”
Dean quirks an eyebrow up at Jo, frowning, “Wait, what?”
“He thinks he’s a chick,” Al explains coldly.
“She is a chick,” Castiel snaps, crossing his arms, “She is whatever she
fucking says she is Alastair. What do you want?”
“If she’s a chick, why is she here? Hmm?” Al challenges, seemingly distracted
from his original goal of approach.
“Because our justice system doesn’t recognize gender identity as a major factor
in people’s lives,” Cas retorts, “and because Jo has a penis, she is considered
male in the eyes of a million old rich guys.”
“Last I heard, having a dick means you're a guy.” Al argues.
“Well nobody cares what you heard,” Dean snaps, feeling himself grow braver
with Cas’ presence beside him.
Cas smiles widely and agrees, “Newbie has a point Alastair, nobody gives a fuck
what you have to say.”
“Fuck you queers.”
“Alastair, is that any way to speak in front of a lady?” Cas scoffs mockingly,
“Have some chivalry. I’m very sorry for his behavior Jo.”
Jo fans her face, feigning horror, “I do hope I’ll be able to recover Sir
Novak. I can only pray that my pretty little heart will be able to prosper
after suffering such vulgarity.”
Dean, Cas and Jo all laugh and turn back to Al, who looks confused and
offended. “Oh whatever,” he mutters, clearly perturbed. He whirls on his heel
and heads across the room to try and intimidate a few other people.
“Man don’t worry about him,” Jo tells Dean, “He’s just a big coward. I
guarantee the more you stand up to him, the more he’ll back down.”
Dean runs a finger across his bruised face and sighs, “Would’ve been nice to
know a few days ago.”
She shrugs, “You learn from experience I guess.”
Castiel snorts, “I suppose Jo has a point Newbie. Although, I really should’ve
been there backing you up.”
Dean smiles weakly, “Don’t worry about it Cas.”
Jo tilts her head sideways, “Cas? Castiel he nicknamed you?”
Cas chuckles, “Guess so.”
She grins, “Romantic.”
Dean’s face blushes deep crimson, “Jo it’s not-we’re not, I’m not-”
“Dean’s pretending to be straight for the duration of his sentence,” Cas cuts
him off, “Or perhaps forever?”
“I’m not pretending anything,” Dean snaps, crossing his arms and ignoring the
sharp pain in his ribs as he does so, “It’s fine that you like guys Cas, but
I’m not interested.”
Dean licks his lips and turns away, trying to push Ricky’s face out of his mind
as he says the words. He tries to forget the look on his father’s face after
he’d seen Dean and his best friend James as they engaged in an unplanned, heat-
of-the-moment kiss. John had blown a fuse, grabbing Dean's arm and ripping the
boys apart. He'd thrown James out and said if he ever spoke to his son again,
he'd raise hell.
Dean was just confused, overwhelmed and stressed. Dean isn’t gay. Dean doesn’t
like boys. Dean loves girls. He loves the way their bodies curve at the waist
and the rounded shape of breasts and...yeah he totally loves vaginas. The
thought isn’t hard for him at all. Dean loves women.
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat; how’s he supposed to fool everyone else if
he can’t even fool himself?
Cas seems to observe his fraught demeanor and decides not to push it, “Yeah
Newbie. You got it.”
Dean sighs softly and leans back against the couch, inching a little away from
Cas and trying to let the movie absorb his thoughts.
**
Dean ducks away from Cas after dinner to use the bathroom. It’s kind of a
relief to be away from the tense effect that Castiel can have on him. Sure, he
thinks the guy is pretty cool, but sometimes it’s hard to keep up their
confusing friendship and act nonchalant. Needless to say, he takes his time in
the bathroom. It’s almost curfew, so the stalls are empty and the showers are
dry. He seems to be the only in there after he finishes up and moves to wash
his hands. He washes thoroughly -germs are abundant in a place like this, and
he is not getting mono from a filthy sink or something- and moves for the door.
He stops at the door, hearing something from the other side of the bathroom. It
sounds like crying, but he can’t be sure because it’s so soft. He turns
slightly, debating whether or not this is a stupid idea. Despite his
desperately low self-preservation instincts, he turns completely and begins
walking slowly through the bathroom. He crosses the mirrors, which cut the room
in half, and peers around to see Jo standing before one of the mirrors on the
other side. She’s leaning over the sink, swiping at her eyes and weeping
quietly. Her hair is a mess around her face, there’s a pair of tweezers by the
sink, and her scrawny shoulders are trembling with sobs.
Dean feels like he’s invading her space, but he can’t just leave her, “Um, Jo?”
She whips her head up, quickly scrubbing at her eyes and narrowing them, “What
do you want?”
He inches forward hesitantly, “Are you alright?”
Her jaw clenches visibly, “Fine.”
She runs the water and splashes her face, clearing her throat expectantly at
Dean, who’s still staring, “What?”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She sighs deeply and picks up the tweezers, gesturing to one of her
meticulously plucked brows, “I just…” her sentence trails off weakly, like the
words are too tiring to spit out.
Dean understands what it’s like to desperately want to say something, but not
really know how to do so.
“It’s okay,” he assures her, hopping up to sit on the counter beside the sink,
“Take your time.”
“Sometimes it’s just hard,” she begins speedily, like she’s afraid someone’s
going to stop her, “being in this body. Do you have any idea what it’s like to
be told that you’re someone you’re not?”
Dean sighs lightly, “I can imagine.”
She shakes her head, throwing the tweezers against the mirror and watching them
clink against the counter, grimacing at her reflection, “It’s not fair. I don’t
get to be who I am. This-” she gestures down at her flat chest and bony hips,
“It’s not me. I’m trapped in this fucking body and I can’t escape.”
Dean leans closer, putting a tentative arm around her shoulders, “Can I say
something?”
“It better not be stupid.”
“Personally, I think you’re lovely looking already.”
It’s true, Dean’s not into girls- er, forget that just happened, he loves
girls- but he does find her extremely beautiful. Her jaw is sleek and shapely,
her lips are a little broad but still full and pink, her teeth are excellent,
and her skin is to die for. Her hair is surprisingly vital for the generic soap
given in the detention center, and it frames her face perfectly. She may not
look like a typical woman, she’s got a masculine body and definitive “male”
features about her, but she’s gorgeous all the same. Nothing about her really
screams dude to Dean, despite misgendering her before Cas explained about her
preferred pronouns. 
“Who decides what a woman looks like anyway?” Dean says out loud, although he’s
not sure if he means to, “You know you’re a woman. And once you get out of
here,” he shakes his head, “Maybe you can take steps to make you happier, you
know? I bet you’d be awesome with makeup huh?”
“I am,” she admits, “I used to get into my mom’s lipstick all the time as a
kid. She got so mad...but I think she secretly thought it was cute.”
She smiles at the memory, laughing a little to herself. Dean nods openly,
encouraging her to continue reminiscing, “That’s why I’m here,” Jo mutters in a
low, shameful voice, “I stole makeup from Sephora. God I took one look at the
women who modeled for the store, they were so beautiful, they were everything I
wanted to be. But there’s no way my mom would’ve bought me that stuff. I
wanted- I needed to try it.” she twirls a finger through a gold curl and
shrugs, “I get out in a month. Guess mom and I will have to...discuss it when I
get home.”
“I think it’ll go okay,” Dean offers, “I bet your mom will love you no matter
what Jo.”
“How can you say that? There are so many horror stories about there where trans
kids get fucking disowned for this stuff.”
Dean sighs and hugs her shoulders a little tighter, “That’s true. Yet on the
other hand, why does that mean it’ll happen to you? Sure bad stuff happens all
the time, people are bastards for no reason. But, that doesn’t mean you can’t
live your life. You've got to be yourself Jo, no matter what happens. No matter
what you think or what other people think, the only way you're gonna survive is
by accepting yourself, and doing things for you. There is good and love in the
world, always. I know sometimes it seems impossible to find and you want to
just give up, but it’s always going to be there. There's always gonna be that
sunshine hidden behind storm clouds. I think if you talk to your mom, she’s
going to love you the same as if you were a boy.”
Jo sniffles again, laughing bitterly, “Damn Dean. You get that from a movie or
something?”
Dean chuckles, “Just telling you the truth Jo.”
She shakes her head, “You don’t belong here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re no criminal. You’re an idiot, but you’re not a criminal.”
Dean shrugs, “State of Kansas seems to think I am.”
She rolls her eyes and kisses his cheek, startling him, “You know what Dean?
That good you're talking about? I think I just found some of it.”
She picks up her tweezers and heads for the door, stopping once to tell him,
“Maybe you should take your own advice. Being yourself can be hard, but you
might feel a bit less...trapped if you try it out."
She disappears before he can ask her what that means, and he sighs. Everyone
here is so damn cryptic.
As he walks back to the cell he and Castiel share, he tries to forgot her words
and focus on getting some sleep. He's gonna need a lot of it to be able to
survive this place.
***** The Penalty of Feeling *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING: very NSFW, kind of non-con detailed mentions of food, lots
     of emotional and generally mature stuff.
     Please enjoy, let me know what you think! :)
Honestly, the thing Dean misses most about being outside isn’t his family, as
guilty as he is to admit it. It’s the food and the music. He misses biting into
a thick cheeseburger, his teeth tearing into the melting cheese and hot beef as
the flavor explodes between his lips and juice runs down his tongue. He misses
tucking into a slice of his mom’s hot, squishy apple pie as his father plays
music from the radio. He misses coordinating his chores to the thrumming beats
of Zeppelin or Alice In Chains.
Things were never perfect at his house; his parents fought all the time, he and
his dad were constantly at odds, and he often would sneak out to go steal
something and bring it to some random girl’s house for a night of short-lived
fucking.But, all that aside, it was always nice being in cinnamon-smelling
house, eating amazing food and bobbing his head to some of the best music he’s
ever heard.
The only melodic sound here, is Castiel’s singing. It’s low and off-key,
slightly overpowered by the banging and clanging of cells opening and closing
and inmates shouting profanity, but it’s there. It’s late now, Tuesday night.
The lights are mostly out, save the cheap, bedside lamp that Cas has turned on
as he reads something from the top bunk. Dean didn’t get a great look at it,
but he’s pretty sure it’s the freakin’ bible.
Cas is singing Sing by the Dresdon Dolls now, and Dean can hear his soft, raspy
voice as he lulls on, “Just...sing…”
“You like to sing huh?” Dean states matter-of-factly.
Cas’ song cuts off and he chuckles, “You don’t say Newbie?”
Dean smiles and leans back against his pillows, “It’s nice.”
“Oh yeah? Last guy I shared a cell with, got so annoyed. He was too vocal about
it,” Cas muses, “ left with a broken nose.”
Dean shifts uncomfortably, “You broke his nose?”
“He didn’t like my singing.”
Sometimes Dean forgets how...scary Castiel can be.
“Why do you do that?” he asks stupidly, cursing himself as he does so.
“Do what?”
Shut up shut up you idiot!
“Act so violent?”
You’re dead Dean you dumb shit. You’re done for. Goodbye, nice knowing you!
“I am violent Newbie.”
“I...I don’t think so Cas.”
Cas leans over the bed, quirking an eyebrow curiously up at Dean, “Why do you
say that?”
“Well I invade your personal space very often and you’ve never threatened me.”
Cas shrugs, “I like you Newbie. You don’t piss me off.”
Dean purses his lips before saying, “But...why?”
Cas sighs, “How do I answer that?”
“I mean it Cas, what makes me so different?”
Cas plops down, “I’m not sure Newbie. You’re just not like these other people.
You don’t belong here.”
Dean thinks this is fairly reminiscent of what Jo told him last night, but
before he can point it out, Cas continues, “You’re a dumbass outside of course,
but inside I think there’s something really special.”
Dean snorts, “Ain’t nothin’ in here Cas, you oughtta know that by now.”
“I’m not sure I buy this self-deprecating thing either,” Cas ignores him,
“You’ve gotta know how gorgeous you are. I mean, that could get you far in life
despite what we want to think. Being pretty can make you successful.”
Dean wants to argue that him being attractive has only aggravated his already
tedious relationship with his homophobic father, and made it increasingly
difficult to deal with rejection, but all that comes out is, “Huh?”
Castiel shakes his head, biting his lower lip, “I guess what I’m trying to say
is...you make me feel like I’m not good enough.”
Now, Dean’s really confused, “Cas what the fuck are you talking about?”
“C’mon,” Cas groans, “I’m this big scary slut that makes Newbies like you cower
in their boots. You’re this skinny little dork who is only here because he
steals to feel alive, to feel anything really. You deserve to feel Newbie,
don’t you think?”
“I do feel Cas,” Dean grumbles, getting a little annoyed at his psychoanalysis
of Dean’s kleptomania, “I feel all the time. My ribs still hurt from Al kicking
the shit out of me.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Cas snaps, “Don’t avoid this. You’re
so different and it makes me...nervous. I’m afraid to be violent with you.
I...I wouldn’t want to harm something so important. You need help, not to be
threatened by me.”
“I need help?” Dean demands, “You don’t know me Cas, you don’t know anything.”
Cas rolls his eyes, “I’m serious Newbie. You’re messed up, in here.” he taps
his own temple, and Dean groans.
“I’m not messed up,” he lies.
“Really because you and your father didn’t exactly seem to be on the best
terms.”
Dean pales, “You heard that?”
“The guy’s loud Newbie, everyone heard that.”
“Oh god.”
“So what is it? He knows you’re gay?”
“I’m not g-” Dean sighs quietly, knowing his argument will mean nothing to
Castiel, who refuses to buy it anyway, “I’ve been with girls you know.”
“Well duh, look at you.” Cas rolls his eyes again, a gesture that’s becoming
more endearing than Dean wants, “But was it real?”
Why the hell does Dean feel like he can trust Cas? He barely knows him, he
doesn’t even know his middle name, or his birthday, or where he’s from. All he
knows is the guy is serving time for a crime he might not have committed, he
has sex with anyone he wants, and four years of being an inmate have turned him
into a cynical, mistrustful thug.
So why does he want to spill his guts to Castiel right now?
“Look Cas, I see what you’re trying to do here-”
“Stop denying who you are. I think most of your issues stem from this one thing
Newbie. Maybe if you fucking let someone in you’ll be able to breathe on your
own. You won’t need to do illegal shit to feel alive.”
“What’re you a therapist now?”
“I spent a good deal of my childhood around one,” he shrugs, “My mom liked
helping people. That doesn’t matter though, I want to talk about you.”
“Your mom,” Dean sits up, “You’ve never mentioned your mom. Your dad yeah, I
know you’ve got brothers, but your mom?”
“Well…” his sentence trails off weakly, and he tugs at the cross around his
neck.
“Tell me about her,” Dean insists, both pleased to have Cas talking about
himself, and the conversation switching from Dean’s hermetic sexuality.
“She died when I was twelve.”
“A year before you were sent here?”
Cas fidgets, swallowing hard, “Y- hey, wait, how’d you know I had brothers?”
Dean’s eyes widen, “Oh uh I wasn’t sure, I-I saw you with three guys on
visiting day. I just assumed-”
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing!” Dean squeaks, terrified of the alarming, threatening tone Castiel’s
voice has taken on. His jaw is locked, expression minacious, and the unreadable
swarm of emotion in sapphire eyes is spine-chilling.
“Dean, what the hell did you hear?”
Dean’s heart crawls into his throat as he hears his name exit Castiel’s lips.
He’d assumed he’d never hear Cas say his actual name ever again. It’s
mortifying to wonder what he’s done for Cas to resort to the use of anything
other than ‘Newbie.’
“You didn’t do it,” Dean manages in a low voice, “You took the fall for your
dad.”
That’s it Dean-o, you’re actually getting killed this time. No negotiation on
this one Newbie, you’re fucking dead. Get ready to be shanked. Say goodbye to
college! Say goodbye to marriage! You’re about to get your ass stabbed!
Castiel stares at him. And stares.
And stares.
“Cas...say something.”
“Don’t call me that!” he growls, turning away from Dean. His face is angry, but
his movements and voice are unsure. There’s something buried beneath the rage,
something unfamiliar and confusing. Hope.
“Castiel, hey it’s okay.” Dean braves, reaching out to touch his cellmate’s
shoulder tentatively, “I’m not going to do anything.”
Cas slaps his hand away, which hurts more than Dean would like to admit,
although he’s sure Castiel is holding back. Cas is silent for a few more
agonizing moments, seeming to gather his thoughts. Then, he snaps his head
towards Dean and gets to his feet, towering over the green-eyed boy with no
hesitance.
“Cas?” Dean stammers, “What’re you gonna do?”
Cas leans down so he’s eye to eye with Dean, and then roughly pushes the other
boy’s shoulders. Dean falls back against the pillow, gasping more from shock
than pain. He climbs into the bed, straddling Dean’s thighs and pressing into
his wrists hard, trapping him.
“Wha-”
“Shut up,” Cas growls, “Tell me you fucking want this.”
Dean has to admit: Castiel looks sexy right now. His tanned face is flushed red
with anger and frustration, his broad lips are curled up angrily over his
teeth, and his words come out as breathless, feral snarls.
“I’m not gay,” Dean croaks, but it’s half-hearted and pathetic.
He begins to say more, but Cas cuts him off by smashing his lips against
Dean’s. At first, the kiss is messy and sloppily placed. Then, Castiel gains
more control and the quick, rough kisses are even and meticulous. Castiel’s
lips are artful and his tongue slides across just the right places in Dean’s
mouth. His breath is minty, teeth freshly brushed, and his mouth is moist and
smooth. He must wear a lot of chapstick. Only when Cas pulls his lips
centimeters away does Dean get the chance to breathe. He sucks in some
desperately needed gulps of air, and stares up, wide-eyed at Castiel’s still
furious face.
“What was that Cas?”
Castiel’s grip on Dean’s wrists tightens by a fraction, and he snaps, “Shut the
fuck up.”
Surprisingly...Dean isn’t scared. Not of Cas, at least. He should be terrified
truthfully, he just told the guy that he knows about his false imprisonment,
and his first instinct had been to jump on Dean and forcefully make out with
him. That ain’t normal, not normal at all.
But Dean feels...excited.
The breath is rushing in and out of his lungs with a burning sensation, his
chest feels heavier with each influx of oxygen. His entire body is shaking and
rearing up, as if he’s sprinting in place. Adrenaline courses through his
veins, making his mind whirl and his eyes misty with excitement. He
feels...alive.
This doesn’t make sense. When he feels this way he’s running like hell away
from a store with something stolen clutched against his body. He doesn’t feel
this way laying down, he doesn’t feel this way with other people. He
doesn’t...Dean doesn’t feel.
Cas makes him feel.
“We’re doing this,” he surprises himself by saying it outloud, still staring at
Cas with the expression of a deer in headlights, “we’re doing this.”
“We’re fucking doing it.” Cas hisses, beginning to sharply slide Dean’s white
t-shirt off his torso. Dean’s ribcage is still disgusting and bruised up from
the boot that had collided with it, but he doesn’t even care right now. Nothing
can make him feel insecure, nothing can make him feel less alive. Cas’ tongue
trails down the dip in Dean’s chest, following through all the way down to his
pelvis, where it changes to kissing and sucking. Dean can feel the hickey’s
developing as Cas crosses the border of Dean’s waistline, tugging his pants
down with them.
Dean’s glad he doesn’t wear boxers to bed.
Now fully naked, Dean lays in front of Castiel, who’s still completely clothed
and sitting up on top of him. His rage has seemed to die down a little, but his
thick chest still heaves with panting, and he still swallows hard. Castiel just
trails his eyes down the length of Dean’s body, taking no shame in his
leisurely scrutiny of the boy before him.
“You ever done this before?” Cas demands, peeling his shirt off and tossing it
across the room, leaving Dean to admire the shapely muscles and pulsing tendons
in his arms and torso.
“Only a little stuff with a guy,” Dean admits roughly, closing his eyes as he
tries to get Ricky’s face out of his mind.His eyes reopen when Castiel touches
his face. He’s completely nude now, that awful scar on his belly extremely
potent in the dim light of the cell.
He spreads Dean’s legs, and keeps eye contact with him the whole time. Cas puts
his index finger in his mouth and slickens it with spit, before stroking down
between Dean’s thighs towards his entrance. Dean holds his breath, viridescent
eyes locking with azure ones as Cas tediously eases in his finger. Dean’s had
more than this in him before, deeper too, but the sensation still rocks him
into the sheets and has him gasping. Cas strokes his finger slowly back and
forth inside Dean, other hand going to massage Dean’s cock. He’s getting hard
just watching Dean squirm beneath his touch, and Dean’s slightly intimidated by
the impressive size of Castiel’s dick. It’s nothing tremendous of course, but
it certainly is more than he’s ever had...down there. Plus, he doesn’t know
what Cas intends to lubricate it with, seeing as his spit isn’t going to
suffice.
And yet, he doesn’t fucking care.
Dean’s heartbeat quickens with the pace of Cas’ finger, and he can feel his
breathing continue to get heavy. He forgets what he even did to upset Castiel,
and thinks, if this is Cas angry, he’ll have to piss him off more often.
Cas startles him by popping another finger in, which makes Dean flinch a
little, but more from surprise than anything. The pleasure increases, matching
with the stimulation of his cock as Cas’ hand slowly slides up and down,
rubbing the head with precise motivation. Dean lets out a little groan, eyes
sliding away from Cas’ as he squeezes them shut and ignores the whirlwind of
his thoughts. Focusing on the sheer pleasure of Castiel’s hands has him
gripping the sheets beside him and gasping for air. Cas is fucking amazing and
Dean is finally living.
Dean freezes when the fingers are removed at the rubbing of his cock stops. His
eyes shoot open and he flies into a sitting position, staring in shock as
Castiel climbs off the bed and begins grabbing at his clothes.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Dean cries, his erect cock and throbbing hole
begging him for release.
Cas looks over his shoulder as he slides his hips into his sweatpants and
replaces his shirt over his body, “Don’t fucking tell anyone what you heard
Dean.”
Dean’s jaw drops in horror, as he realizes what’s happening. Cas climbs up to
his bunk and covers up, as if nothing had just happened.
Dean is being punished. He whimpers in disbelief, but knows he can’t do
anything.
“Go ahead,” Cas’ monotone voice says from above him, “Pleasure yourself.”
Dean feels mortified knowing that Castiel is listening, but he has no choice.
His entire body is rippling with ecstasy, his mind still reeling from the
frayed emotions coursing through it. He begins to stroke his own cock, biting
his lip and sucking his breath in silently. He will not give Castiel the
satisfaction of hearing him moan out the blue-eyed boy’s name, although he
desperately wants to. He finishes, coating himself in shame and hurt.
He doesn’t feel alive anymore, he feels like a burnt out lightbulb.
He breathes slowly and cleans himself off with a dirty sock, tossing it in the
small laundry basket beside the door before pulling his pajamas back on and
rolling back into bed, still trying to process what the fuck had just happened.
“Night Newbie,” Castiel says, and flicks the lamp off.
Dean turns over in the darkness, and it's in the stunned silence that follows,
that he begins to quietly cry.
***** Illness and Illusion *****
Chapter Notes
     Once again, most aspects of this fictional juvenile delinquent center
     are very unrealistic (fuck realism I take so much artistic liberty ok
     I'm a nerd)
     Warnings: vomiting, brief mentions of abuse, homophobia, general
     mature content
     Please enjoy, let me know your thoughts :)
“Come on Dean…” James urges, leaning a little closer to the freckled boy beside
him. His lips curl up in a knowing smile, and his brown eyes twinkle with
excitement, “Let’s just do it.”
“I can’t,” Dean insists, leaning away from his best friend with extreme
reluctance, “My dad’s downstairs, if he comes in…”
“He won’t,” James insists, grabbing Dean’s hand warmly, “I’m right here.”
Dean squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing and looking away. He tries not to focus
on how fucking right James’ hand feels in his, how the smooth curves of their
palms slide together perfectly.
“Look at me,” James murmurs, touching his fingers to Dean’s chin and lifting
his head. Dean opens his eyes and locks gazes with James, licking his lips. His
heart hammers in his chest and beads of sweat roll leisurely down the back of
his neck.
“You’re shaking,” James whispers tenderly, and Dean shudders. Silent and still,
Dean keeps his eyes locked on James’ as the boy leans in and gingerly brushes
their lips together. After a moments hesitation, James brings his lips back and
deepens the kiss. Sparks of intangible electricity course through Dean’s lips,
and he grabs James by the collar, pressing their bodies tight and close. He
relishes in the incredible feeling of his best friends mouth on his, the
mingling of minty breath and the icy chill of the unknown.
Then, the door bursts open, and John steps in, “Hey guys it’s dinner t-” Dean
and James break away, gasping and frozen. John’s eyes settle on their
interlocked hands, and his face flushes red.
“You,” he growls at James, crossing the room in three big strides and grabbing
James’ upper arm, yanking him to his feet, “no! You get the fuck out of my
house!”
“Dad no!” Dean cries, bolting to his feet and following John and James as John
drags the boy down the stairs. He throws the front door open, slinging James
out into the street. The boy stumbles and lands hard on his butt, grunting as
he hits the concrete. Dean lurches forward to help him up, but John grabs the
back of his neck and yanks him back against the taller man’s side.
“Don’t fucking move kid,” John growls sternly, his stringent expression
unforgiving. His voice has never sounded so cold. Dean stares up at his
father’s face, all the unsaid words and hidden feelings leaking out his eyes in
that very instant. John’s stoic demeanor shifts to that of permeated rage and
unshed tears, his hand tightening on Dean’s neck.
“You’re sick!” James growls at John, scrambling to his feet, “you’d deny your
son happiness, comfort? Safety! All because you’re an ass-backwards
traditionalist who’s insecure with his own masculinity! Fuck you old man! Fuck
you!”
“You stay away from my son!” John screams back, “You stay the fuck away from my
son and you never come back here! If I see your face around again I’ll fucking
rearrange it you toxic little shit!”
“I’m sorry Dean!” James snarls, “I’m sorry that your dad is so fucked. I hope I
see you again someday.”
“Don’t count on it queer!”
“Fuck you!”
“Stay away from here!” John calls angrily as James treks down the street in a
furious blister of rage, “You stay away!”
“Stay away….stay away...stay away...”
“DEAN! WAKE UP!”
Dean jolts upwards, gasping and blinking rapidly. He stares up into Castiel’s
blank azure eyes.
“Wha?” he mumbles sleepily.
“C’mon Newbie,” Cas urges nonchalantly, “time for breakfast, get up. I think
you were having a nightmare.”
Dean rubs the dream away from his mind and stares as Castiel puts the finishing
touches on his constantly perfect hair and fixes the buttons on his jumpsuit.
He’s acting as if everything is perfectly normal, like last night hadn’t
happened. He’s going to gloss over the incident like it doesn’t exist. Dean
feels sick to his stomach. He knows within a second that it’s not just from
Castiel’s behavior, as he leans over the side of the bed and vomits violently
on the floor.
“Oh Newbie!” Cas exclaims in mock disgust, although there’s a faint hint of
disguised concern in his tone, “That’s fucking gross. Hey, guard!”
Bobby happens to be the guard patrolling their ward when Cas calls. He
approaches the cell and unlocks the door, stepping in, “what’s up guys?”
Cas jerks his chin towards the pile of puke on the floor and the dry-heaving
boy above it, “Newbie’s sick.”
“Oh man,” Bobby quirks an eyebrow up and scratches his beard thoughtfully,
“Alright Castiel, I’m gonna get the custodial workers up here, you take Dean to
the infirmary.”
“Sure thing Mr. Singer,” Castiel says in a chipper tone, swooping down to put a
supporting arm around Dean’s waist. Dean feels disgusted with himself for
leaning into the touch, allowing all of his weight to rest comfortably against
Cas’ thick, warm side. He wants to be strong; to tell Cas to fuck off and that
Dean can walk to the damn infirmary on his own, but Cas is so soft and sturdy.
“Feel better kid,” Bobby says fleetingly as he watches Dean and Castiel
disappear down the hall, “god knows you’ll need to.”
Dean ignores this, breathing evenly and leaning on Cas for support as he tries
to swallow down the rest of the bile that’s threatening to come up his sore
throat.
“What’s up with you Newbie?” Cas demands, frowning, “you were fine last night.”
I was not fine last night, Dean thinks, I was fucked up last night. He just
shrugs weakly and swallows again.
“Hmm,” Cas frowns, and places his knuckles against Dean’s forehead, “you do
feel pretty hot. Maybe you got the flu or something. Public bathrooms are
riddled with germs.”
Dean knows this, in fact, he’s meticulously scrubbed every inch of his flesh at
any chance he got since he arrived here to avoid this very situation. There’s
no way he caught the flu from the bathroom, it’s most likely form being in a
confined space with another inmate who’s either been sick recently or is sick.
Dean’s got the weakest immune system ever, he’s the most illness-susceptible
person on planet Earth. But Cas doesn’t know this, Cas doesn’t know Dean.
He doesn’t know Dean at all.
“Maybe you were having a fever dream last night,” Cas suggests as they continue
down the lengthy halls, “sometimes that happens. What was it about?”
Dean ignores him still, focusing on not tossing his cookies all over his
cellmate. Cas won’t take his silence though, he halts and turns to face Dean,
“What’s your problem Newbie?”
“That’s a stupid question douchepants!” Dean growls, wishing something more
scathing and eloquent had come out, but standing firm nonetheless, “you know
what my problem is.”
Cas is about to reply angrily, when Dean doubles over, clutching his stomach
and gagging. He leans one hand against the wall for support and retches up
nothing. Cas’ demeanor swiftly changes from belligerence to concern as he
reaches out towards Dean.
“Don’t touch me!” Dean snaps, which takes all of his strength.
Cas straightens his shoulders and sighs, “You need to get something in your
stomach.”
“Why the fuck do you care?” Dean demands, swallowing the bile in his throat and
stiffening his back, “I can get myself to the infirmary.”
“Newbie you’re sick,” Cas says in a strained voice, “just, let me take care of
you, okay?”
“No!” Dean exclaims, backing away from Cas’ tentative advances, “how the hell
would I be able to let you? After last night?”
“I had to do that!” Cas argues, throwing his hands up defensively.
“No you didn’t,” Dean barks back, crossing his arms over his stomach, trying to
shrink himself away from Castiel’s rough voice and regretting his decision to
bring this up, “I didn’t do anything to you.”
“I had to make sure you didn’t tell,” Cas’ voice is less angry and more soft
now; he won’t meet Dean’s eyes, “I had to...you have to know how serious I am
about this.”
“Maybe try a little trust?” Dean demands, “don’t just assume that everyone is
out to get you Cas! I told you I wouldn't do anything, fucking believe me.
Maybe you could change things if you fucking trusted som-” his voice cuts off
as he lurches forward towards the nearest trash bin and empties what little is
left in his stomach, panting and heaving hard.
Cas ignores his previous orders to leave him alone, and Dean feels the other
boy’s hand on the base of his spine, rubbing in circles as he murmurs, “It’s
okay Dean...it’ll be okay…”
“Fuck you,” Dean gags out weakly, tears washing his cheeks as he continues to
hurl violently. Cas sighs softly but continues stroking Dean’s back in a way
that’s very uncharacteristically soothing of him. Usually his behavior only
stands to unsettle Dean, right now he feels like he’s back in the embrace of
his mom. Creepy, why does he keep comparing Cas to Mary? He should stop doing
so, they're nothing alike. But there's something so comforting and safe about
Castiel's presence, even when Dean knows he should be furious. 
Cas hesitates, his hand stilling on Dean’s back, “you’re really sick Newbie, I
need to go get the doctor.”
“Go!” Dean grumbles, “Leave me alone.”
“Are you going to be okay by yourself?”
“I will be fantastic,” Dean snarls, before continuing to barf. Reluctantly, Cas
turns on his heel and speeds down the hall towards the swinging doors at the
end.
Dean watches him go, both furious at his behavior, and flattered. As he turns
back towards the trash can to upchuck, he’s so struck that he met someone who
can make him feel both. Jackass.
**
The infirmary doctor -god bless whoever decided detention centers need
infirmaries- takes Dean back to her room. It kind of reminds him of the school
nurses office, which makes him want to laugh. She’s kind of intimidating, tall
and wide, but she’s sweet as hell. Too nice for this place. Dean follows her
through a curtain, relieved that she has no trouble supporting his dwindling
weight with one arm as she leads him towards the examination table. Out of the
corner of his eye, he sees someone sitting up on one of the beds crying, but he
can’t make out the face.
Cas had tried to follow them in, but the doctor forbid his entrance, telling
him it was for the sick only. Now, as she helps Dean up on to the table, he
asks, “Was that true?”
She shakes her head, “I’ll let anybody in here, if they’re feeling down or even
just want to avoid other people. You just didn’t seem to want his company. I
have a degree in psychology as well so they decided to cut costs and have me
serve both medical and emotional purposes.”
“Nice,” Dean grumbles weakly, “they’re so considerate of our feelings.”
She sighs as she gets one of those whatcha-ma-callits that shines the light
down into patient’s throats, and turns it into Dean’s mouth, “Sorry to tell you
kid, but once you’re in here your feelings don’t matter. They think you kids
are a bunch of maniacal criminals, when really, all you guys need is some good
old fashioned comfort.”
Dean chuckles feebly, “Maybe so. So what about that kid out there crying?”
She sighs again, glancing towards the door that separates them from the kid,
“His name’s Alastair, he comes in here a lot. Kid’s had a rough damn life, I’ll
tell you that. A string of bad mistakes and abuse led him here, but I think
like a lot of them, he just needed to escape things.”
Dean’s eyes widen as the doctor -whose nametag reads Dr. Moseley- says these
words. “Alastair?” he squeaks.
She nods, quirking an eyebrow up, “Why do you ask?”
Dean brushes a finger over the very faint discoloration that Al’s fist has left
below his eye, “No reason…” he murmurs quietly, trying not to think about what
this development means.
Doctor Moseley shrugs, “Well you’ve probably just got a stomach bug. Bedrest is
probably your only option for a few days. Why don’t you go in there and lay
down and I’ll bring you some water and crackers. If you feel like you’re gonna
hurl, grab the trash bin at the foot of the bed and go crazy.”
“Thank you,” Dean mutters as she helps him off the table and opens the door. He
heads through the curtain and lays down on the small cot opposite of the one
Al’s crying into his hands on. Alastair lifts his head as Dean enters, quickly
looking away and swiping violently at his face.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean assures him tiredly, “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”
“Whatever,” Al growls, and Dean sighs, nobody ever believes him when he says
that it seems. There’s a stretch of silence that settles on both of their
shoulders like a brick. Dean’s perfectly fine ignoring the crying douchebag
beside him and trying to get some rest, but apparently Al can’t let this go
unfinished.
“If you tell anyone I’ll-”
“Yeah yeah yeah painful death,” Dean mutters in an uninterested voice, “I know
the drill man, you and your goons already fucked me up. I’m scared of you.”
He’s not lying, although his monotone tone might hint at indifference. It’s not
that he isn’t scared, cause Al still terrifies him, it’s just that he can’t
find himself caring at this moment.
Al wrinkles his nose in anger, but shakes his head, “Okay whatever Freckles.”
Dean turns over on his side, breathing in deeply through his nose and squeezing
his eyes shut to avoid yacking again. There’s another few moments of
uninterrupted silence, and then Al asks in a low voice, “Are you sick or
something?”
“What do you care?”
“I’m just asking.”
Dean cracks an eye open and looks at Al, really looks at him. He still looks
like a maniacal meth head, but there’s something different now that he’s not
beating Dean to a pulp. Something so...broken. Al looks like the shell of a
peanut that’s been cracked apart and thrown away to get to the edible part.
He’s the unimportant husk of something that once was, continuously drilled and
broken apart until nothing is left but hollowed, empty eyes, and a forlorn
expression.
“Yes,” Dean replies quietly, “Stomach bug.”
Al nods, “Ginger helps with nausea sometimes, ask Missouri, she might have
some.”
“Who?”
“Doctor Moseley,” he corrects, “Missouri is her first name.”
Man, he’s on a first name basis with the counselor. That’s rough.
“I’ll ask her...and thanks.”
Al shrugs, leaning back against the wall, “This stays between us Freckles.”
“You got it.”
He rises from the cot, blinking away the last of his tears and hesitating
before he says, “Feel better Dean.”
Dean watches him go, and he feels sick to his stomach for more than one reason.
***** Labyrinth of Thoughts *****
Chapter Notes
     OK yeah warnings first as usual: illness, puking, loss of appetite,
     homophobia, general mature content of course.
     I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and omg the ones coming up get
     so intense wow ok
     Please enjoy, let me know your thoughts :)
     (also poor Dean he can't catch a break I am so mean to him)
The bug lasts a little over 24 hours, and it’s the most hellish experience Dean
has ever endured.
He spends the first twelve hours relentlessly throwing up anything he tries to
put in his stomach, water, crackers, even when he tries chewing gum it makes
him vomit. The next 6 hours consist of him gagging at the mention of food, and
curling into a ball to fight off both his hunger pangs and the intense nausea
that overwhelms every movement. Cold sweats break across his face and neck, a
sheen of liquid coating his forehead almost constantly, although he’s freezing.
“I’m dying,” he groans during hour 15, as Missouri dabs at his face soothingly
with a wet rag.
“You’re not dying boy,” she chides softly, “You’ve got the flu.”
“I miss my mom,” he complains, and he doesn’t care one fucking bit how lame it
sounds. All he wants right now is his mother’s tomato rice soup and the soft
sound of her voice singing Hey Jude.
“I know honey,” Missouri coos, “here, try some more water. Can’t have you
gettin’ dehydrated. Lord knows they still wouldn’t bring you to the hospital.”
With shaking hands Dean brings the cup of water to his dry lips, sipping it
delicately as not to upset his angry stomach. He hasn’t eaten in an estimated
15 hours -not counting the 8 he slept on Tuesday night- and it’s almost 10 PM
on Wednesday night. His stomach is both raw with hunger, and swirling with
aggravation and nausea.
A knock on the door attracts the attention of both Missouri and Dean, who asks,
“what’s that?”
She sighs, “That boy, Castiel, he’s been trying to see you all day.”
“Not letting him in?”
She chuckles, “He even faked illness, said you got him sick. He was fine, the
little shit tried to weasel past me to get in here.”
Dean frowns deeply, why the hell is Cas trying so hard to mother-hen him? Can’t
he just leave Dean alone? He’s already expressed that Dean’s feelings mean
absolutely nothing.
“I don’t want to see him,” Dean’s voice is almost pleading, “please don’t let
him in.”
“Don’t worry boy, I won’t. I’ll go get rid of him, you try to finish up that
water.” Dean nods gratefully as she gets to her feet and walks around the
corner to the front door. Dean can’t see her anymore, but he listens carefully
for the click of the lock disengaging, and the door slowly squeaking open.
“Doctor Moseley,” Castiel’s voice is almost urgent, “Can I come in?”
“No son, it’s quarantine in there.”
“You’re in there.”
“Don’t contradict me young man.”
“Uh...sorry? Look, I just need to see him. Five seconds ma’am, then I’ll leave
you alone.”
“He doesn’t want to see you boy, don’t you get that by now?”
“Yeah I get it. Doesn’t mean I care.”
There’s a pause, and then Missouri says, “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to
see you.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t care about his feelings son, only yours. Dean’s sick, he doesn’t
need visitors. He’s okay.”
Cas starts to reply, but Dean’s stomach begins to disagree with his draining of
the water cup. He leans up in bed, grabbing the trash can he’s grown used to in
the past 15 hours, and begins retching violently into it.
“What was that?” Castiel’s voice again, “That’s him, he does not sound okay!”
“Don’t you push me boy! It’s nice that you’re so worried about him but-”
“I am not worried about him,” Cas contradicts irritably.
“Then why are you here?” Missouri demands.
“I...well...I don’t know ma’am.”
“Go to bed boy, before the guards get on ya for being missing.”
Castiel’s sigh is deep, defeated, “Will you tell him I came by? Tell him- god,
just tell him I need to talk to him please?”
“I might.”
“You-” he sighs again, seeing as there’s no getting around Missouri’s sharp
attitude and strong backbone, “Thanks.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.” The door closes again, the lock clicks, and Missouri appears in the
doorway, shaking her head and clicking her tongue scornfully.
“What?” Dean demands, peering up at her from the rim of the trash can.
“What have you gotten yourself into boy?” she scolds, crossing her arms over
her chest like he’s a misbehaved child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.
Castiel’s cookie jar, apparently.
“Nothing,” he manages, “he’s my friend. He..watched out for me is all.”
“Oh that’s more than a friend darling,” Missouri sits beside Dean again,
sighing, “that boy cares. Too much.”
Dean sighs, which makes him gag and he buries his head in the can, grimacing at
the disgusting odor of his own puke, “Like I said, I’m dying.”
She shakes her head, “Looks like you’re already dead.”
“Thanks Ms. Missouri, that makes me feel tons better.”
“How long have you been here Dean?”
“Um 15 hours?”
“Not in the infirmary boy! I mean here.”
“Oh- oh here. Today makes it a week. Why?”
Her coffee colored eyes lock with his glaucous ones, and she murmurs, “You’ve
known that boy for a week?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
She gnaws on her lip, her dark skin bathed in fluorescent light; it looks
almost sickly, “That boy had years in his eyes Dean. Not a week.”
Dean shakes his head, “I’m sorry...I don’t understand.”
She purses her lips, “Dean, I want you stay away from him. You’re a nice boy
but Castiel...he’s frightening. He’s not right, up here,” she taps her temple
and continues, “he’s dangerous and I don’t want you getting hurt. You never
know when he’s going to fly off the rails.”
Dean contemplates her words, matching them up with the incident from last
night. Cas had been truly terrifying -ignoring the fact that he was sexy as all
fucking hell- and Dean had been pretty horrified. Then, he’d acted like nothing
had happened and his actions were totally justified. Maybe Missouri is
right...maybe Dean shouldn’t have gotten involved with Cas. After all, why is
everyone so scared of him? One doesn’t earn such an accolade without proper
reason. Maybe Castiel is much more menacing and untrustworthy than Dean has
come to expect. Maybe Dean is mistaking the greatness in him, for goodness.
Dean considers the difference. Castiel is great, he’s a monument, a humungous
structure of fear and courage. But is he good? Because underneath the courage
and intimidation...what’s left?
Dean looks into the earnest eyes of Missouri, “Maybe you’re right ma’am.”
“If you ever feel unsafe, just come here, okay? Because I didn’t like the look
on his face...not one bit. Almost crazed Dean, as if you were his soulmate, not
his cellmate.”
Dean swallows hard, nodding, “I understand. Thanks.”
“Of course boy. Now gimme that trash bin, and you try to get some rest hm?”
Dean nods feebly, handing the vomit-heavy bin over to her and pulling the thin,
cot sheet up tight around his body. He wonders when she goes home, or does
someone come in and replace her?
“Hey wait,” he says as she turns to exit the room.
She arches a brow, “Yeah?”
“Are you leaving?”
She shakes her head, “I’ll sleep here tonight.”
“Don’t you have to get home?”
“No Dean, there’s nothing there for me anyway.”
She closes the curtain that separates her office and the cots, and Dean shuts
his mouth. Even the most balanced people have their issues.
“I don’t care Dean! You are not allowed to hangout with that boy anymore!”
“But dad!” Dean argues, crossing the living room as John flops down on the
couch beside Mary, “It was just a mistake, we’re not, I’m not-”
“I don’t want to hear it son.” John orders in his totalitarian voice Dean has
come to resent, “You kissed that boy. I will not have that behavior in my
house.”
“Our house,” Mary interjects, “And Dean can hangout with James if he wants to.
Dean can kiss James all he wants.”
“Mary,” John pinches the bridge of his nose, “How many times can we have this
discussion? I don’t want to listen to this liberal hippie bullshit, my son is a
man, and he will not be some other boy’s bitch.”
“Dad!”
“Johnathon! Watch your mouth! You are so lucky Sam isn’t home right now.” Mary
turns to Dean, clenching her jaw, “I’m sorry Dean, but your father and I seem
to disagree on this one. James isn’t allowed back over.”
Dean stares in horror at his mother, “Mom! How can you-”
“But, I will gladly drive you wherever you need to go in order to see him.”
“What?” John and Dean manage simultaneously, which causes them to glare harshly
at one another.
“John, you said not in the house. Dean can go kiss James wherever he wants, as
long as you don’t see it.”
In an angry fluster, John rises from the couch, shoots Dean a glare, and storms
out of the room. Dean looks towards his mom with pleasant surprise, “Thank you
mom.”
She smiles, “It’s the little victories Dean. The little things.”
“Dean honey, wake up. Oh christ, Dean?” Dean moans, rolling over on his back
and blinking his eyes open. They’re crusty with eye boogers and dry as hell.
His tongue feels like sandpaper, and each swallow of spit makes him flinch.
“Wha’s happn’n?” he slurs sloppily, leaning up on his elbows.
“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours bub,” Missouri says over him, “it’s middle of
the mornin, you best be getting up.”
“Twelve hours?” he manages lamely, swallowing hard and moving his sore bones
into a sitting position.
She nods, “You must’ve been exhausted boy, not been sleeping well?”
Dean grimaces, and rubs his eyes, “Haven’t had the most stress-free week, you
might imagine.”
She purses her lips, “You still feel sick?”
“Not really,” he says, “sluggish and weak I guess, but mostly just hungry.”
Lassitude crawls over him like a creeping snake and it’s everything in his
power not to collapse back on to the pillow. Despite having just slept twelve
friggin hours, his whole body feels tired and sore. His abdominal muscles are
worn thin, and his throat burns.
“The bug took a lot out of you,” she says, crossing the room to fill a paper
cup with water and return it to him, “puking up nothin’ for twelve straight
hours’ll do that to you kiddo. And you didn't have much meat on them bones to
begin with."
He eagerly gulps down the cup’s contents, sighing in relief as the cool water
washes over his aching throat and soothes the burn of stomach acid and
dehydration.
“Thanks a lot ma’am,” he says earnestly, “You really helped me through it.”
“That’s my job kiddo. Mr. Singer is waiting outside the door to escort you to
the bathroom and then the rec hall, just in case. Whenever you’re ready.”
Dean still feels pretty weary, but he’s been stuck in this cot for too long,
and his breath is horrendous. Plus, he always feels so gross after being sick,
he needs a very thorough shower. He moves to get up, and Missouri tucks a
helpful hand under his elbow as he stands, “You lost a lot of water weight,”
she tells him, “blood pressure’s pretty low too. Also, you just look like hell,
so prepare to feel pretty crappy for the next couple of days.”
He sighs, “Thanks.”
Nodding she leads him to the door, hesitating before she opens it, “Don’t
forget what we talked about last night.”
Dean stares up at her, digging through a haze of feverish memory to their
conversation about Castiel. He still isn’t sure, what if she’s wrong and Cas is
just misunderstood or something? But then again, what if she’s right and Dean
is smart to steer clear of him?
“Yeah.” he mutters half-heartedly, “I remember.” She purses her lips
disbelievingly, but opens the door to reveal Bobby standing outside
expectantly.
“Jesus kid,” he says, wide-eyed, “you look like hell. What, have you got like
1% body fat or something?”
“Robert,” Missouri chides, “the kids got the immune system of a baby squirrel,
go easy.”
“Thanks,” Dean’s face sours at her words, and she sighs,
“Just being honest bub. Hope to see you again?”
“What a terrible thing to say as an infirmary worker.”
“And a counselor,” she reminds him pointedly, “Always welcome. I think Al might
appreciate some company at times.”
Dean’s brows shoot up at these words, but he doesn’t have time for a response
because Bobby grabs his arm and begins toting him down the hall while Missouri
closes and locks her door.
“Your cellmate is the most annoying kid on the planet,” Bobby says matter-of-
factly as they make their way towards Dean’s cell.
“Oh yeah?” Dean inquires casually as they reach the cell, and Bobby allows him
to dig through his toiletries, “Why’s that?”
“Kept begging one of the guards to go into the infirmary to check on you.
Eventually I humored him because he was keeping the other inmates up
complaining about it all night. You were sound asleep, but I uh,” Bobby
chuckles and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “decided to mess with
him. I told him you looked real bad. Okay, well it’s actually true but I made
it sound bad.”
Dean grimaces as they begin walking back down the hall towards the bathrooms,
“You’re allowed to do that?”
Bobby sighs, “Man you kids are "products of the system", nobody cares about
your feelings. Me and the guards had a good laugh about it. He was so upset,
big scary Castiel got all worked up and flustered over this 90 pound new kid.”
“Worked up?” Dean asks nervously, “how so?”
“Surprisingly,” Bobby says thoughtfully, “he didn’t get violent. We kind of
expected that, he’s had issues with violent outbursts in the past. Not over
other inmates, usually he could care less. Kid doesn’t have feelings, so we
thought.” he shakes his head and eyes Dean as they enter the bathroom, “But
when I told him you weren’t doing so good? You’d think he’d lost his grandma or
something, the kid was fucked. Sitting on the bed praying, clutching that cross
like some kind of nutjob.”
Dean shudders, “Why was he doing that?”
“Don’t you guys have a thing?”
Dean freezes halfway through removing his shirt at the shower stall. It’s a
little awkward stripping in front of Bobby, but the guy seems more interested
in Dean’s personal life than his freckles, so he doesn’t mind it so much.
“No we don’t...have a thing.” Dean responds, starting up the shower head and
scrubbing down his overused body, wondering why the staff here is so damn nosy,
“We’re friends.”
“Looked a little more than friendly to me kid.”
“I’ve known him a week,” Dean detests, rinsing out his disgusting mouth,
“There’s nothing more going on.”
“Then that kid is seriously disturbed,” Bobby reconsiders, “Or he’s in love
with you.”
“Is this really appropriate conversation between a guard and inmate?” Dean
demands, “especially while I’m naked?”
Bobby shrugs, “Job gets boring sometimes. Inmate chatter is the closest thing I
get to Gossip Girl.”
“Incredible,” Dean mutters, “who cares about our safety? Lets discuss who’s
fucking who.”
“So you’re fucking him?”
“Bobby!”
“You did not deny it.”
Dean bites his tongue, rolling his eyes and focusing on his shower. How had he
landed himself in the most unprofessional juvenile facility known to man?
**
Luckily Dean finishes washing up just as lunch started, and Bobby brings him to
the cafeteria. He can’t remember the last time he ate anything and kept it
down, and while his stomach is still growling in hunger, the thought of food
makes him feel a little overwhelmed. He’s never had a big appetite to begin
with, but after losing the contents of his gut for 12 relentless hours, food
isn’t the most appealing thing to him. He knows Missouri said he lost a lot of
water weight and his blood pressure is low, which probably means he should eat,
but he just leaves Bobby’s side to go sit across the room at an empty table.
“Hey brother, wait!”
He turns at the sound of the voice, quirking an eyebrow up. Benny, Kevin and
Garth are seated at a table, food in front of them, beckoning him over. He
hesitates, and slowly begins to walk towards them, “Yes?”
“C’mon brother, sit down.” Benny gestures for him to sit, and Dean does so
cautiously. Where’s Castiel? Is he watching? Why isn’t he approaching Dean? Why
can’t Dean see him?
Stop thinking about him.
“Why the change of heart?” Dean inquires, quirking an eyebrow up dubiously.
Kevin interjects, “It was uncool of us to just ditch you because we were
freaked about the Alastair thing. If you want, we’d like to hangout with you
again.”
Dean fidgets, he’s still annoyed that they were so spineless, but he decides to
let it go because he really needs friends in this place, “Sure.”
“Great brother,” Benny pats his bicep and eyes the empty space in front of him,
“No dinner?”
“Not hungry,” Dean admits, “I was sick yesterday.”
“Eesh, sick here? Bet that was awful.”
“It was.”
“That sucks brother. Wish I’d known, I would’ve come visit.”
No you wouldn’t have, Dean thinks, you’re not my friends.
Castiel visited me.
Dean shakes his head to clear it and forces out a smile, “Thanks Benny.”
Benny doesn’t reply, and Dean catches him glancing over Dean’s shoulder at
someone, eyes locked on something. Dean turns his head and follows Benny’s
gaze, to where Alastair is seated at one of the tables behind them. He’s giving
Benny a pointed, threatening look. Al catches Dean’s eye and grins, winking.
Perturbed, Dean turns back to face Benny, who swallows hard and says, “So, you
and Alastair are good now?”
“Huh?”
“Look Dean,” Kevin cuts him off, not one to beat around the bush, “Alastair
came up to us and threatened us. He said if we didn’t let you sit with us
he’d…” he shudders. Dean cranes his neck to give Al a ‘what?’ look, and the
other boy simply shrugs his shoulders and continues talking to Crowley.
Dean rubs his face, why the fuck is everyone here so confusing?
***** Adjust *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings (just to be thorough): some homophobia/sexism, mentions of
     past physical/drug abuse, general mature content.
     This chapter was a blast to write.
     Please enjoy! Let me know what you think :)
Dean heads back to his cell after dinner, glancing nervously around him. He
knows he’ll have to face Castiel eventually, but he wants to get back to the
cell early, give himself a little time to prepare. He almost gets there too.
But then, there’s a demanding hand on his bicep, and he’s being thrown against
a wall, his body pressed against the plaster by a much bigger one. He looks
into swirling cerulean eyes, and swallows, “Cas let me go.”
Castiel, forearm against Dean’s throat, shakes his head, “Why didn’t you let me
in?”
“Cas,” Dean repeats cautiously, ignoring the terror and arousal coursing
through his body, “Let me go.”
“Tell me why!” Cas demands, jaw locking.
“I didn’t want to see you,” Dean snaps, “You know that.”
Cas stares at him for a moment, “Why not? I thought we were friends.”
“Friends?” Dean exclaims, “Castiel, friends don’t sexually assault each other!”
“You wanted it.”
“Don’t tell me what I want! You were punishing me! Friends don’t fucking do
that.”
Cas’ expression softens a bit, but he makes no move to release Dean from his
death grip, “You look ill.”
Dean would throw his hands up in exasperation if he wasn’t trapped under
Castiel’s weight, “No shit.”
Cas hesitates, and then releases Dean. Dean lands primly on his toes, rubbing
at his sore neck, there’s probably going to be a mark there later; he bruises
like a banana. “You are so...fragile,” Cas says after a moment.
“Thanks,” Dean replies sourly, “you’re really making me want to forgive you.”
Cas rubs his forehead stressfully. Oh nice, he’s stressed, “Look Dean, I’m
sorry. I-” he curses softly under his breath and continues, “I shouldn’t have
done that to you. I am sorry, okay?”
It sounds sincere enough, despite his reluctance to actually say it. Still,
Dean’s not too certain if he even wants to forgive Castiel. Maybe he should
just try to avoid him? But...he doesn’t want to do that either.
“I need a little time to myself Cas,” Dean insists, “just...please leave me
alone for a little while.”
Cas clenches his jaw, “I don’t want to.”
“Well deal with it!” Dean hisseS, “Just because you’re big and scary doesn’t
mean you always get your way.”
Cas crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes and for a second Dean is afraid the
guy’s gonna deck him. Dean’s certainly got a habit of pissing off the people
with the most power over him.
But then, Cas just sighs and says, “Whatever Newbie.” and struts down the
hallway with his shoulders squared and his head high.
Well, at least they’re back to the friendly nicknames.
Dean continues his trek down the hall towards their cell, pleased to be getting
a little peace and quiet. He passes Dr. Moseley’s office, glancing sideways as
he does so, and stopping at what he sees. The door is cracked slightly so he
can just barely peer in the side. Missouri is leaning over a kid with sandy
blonde hair, giving him a cup of something unfamiliar and a handful of pills.
The boy takes them all individually, then downs the milky white liquid in the
cup, before shuddering and hugging his arms around him.
“You’ll be alright dear,” Missouri promises the boy, patting his ratty hair
comfortingly, “you’re improving already.”
“I-I can’t do it anymore,” Dean’s eyes widen as he recognizes Alastair’s voice
responding, “I need it!”
“Al no,” Missouri scolds in response, “Drugs are an escape, you’re only going
to ruin things for yourself. No going back remember? You turn eighteen next
year, you get out of here in six more months. You got a chance boy.”
“No I don’t!” he growls back, “ain’t nobody gonna hire a drug addict criminal
fresh out of juvie! I’m gonna end up on the streets and then right back there,
in that fucking house with her.”
“Alright alright shh,” she soothes calmly, “don’t get all worked up now.”
“I can’t go back,” his reply comes in the form of a wet sob, “I can’t go back.”
He begins rocking back and forth, his body shuddering with every word. Dean
watches with sick fascination as Missouri sits beside him on one of the cots,
putting her arm around him comfortingly and allowing him to rock rhythmically,
chanting, “I can’t go back...I can’t go back Missouri...I’ll die.” “You’re not
goin’ back dear,” she promises assuredly, “you’ll never have to go back there.”
Then, her voice calls out a little louder, “Dean boy I know you’re standing
there! Get your butt in here.”
He hesitates, body going rigid with her recognition. Then, he gives up and
slowly crosses the distance, entering the infirmary and shutting the door
completely behind him. He steps through the doorway of the cot room and faces
Missouri and the sobbing Al.
“Uh, I don’t think he wants me in here,” Dean manages, feeling like he’s
interrupting something very intimate.
“Well it isn’t like you didn’t just hear everything,” Missouri rolls her eyes,
“Sit down Dean.”
Dean isn’t sure why she’s making him participate in this creepy, depressing
therapy session, but he sits down nonetheless. Al avoids his gaze, trembling
and wiping at his moist red eyes like that’ll stop the weeping coming from his
throat. The guy sure does cry a lot for someone who beats up innocent new
inmates. As Dean watches him, he begins to realize maybe there’s a lot more to
Alastair’s behavior than Dean originally thought.
Dean doesn’t know where this kid comes from, he could’ve been born in a war
zone. Maybe he’s not a psycho maniac jackass, maybe he’s just a kid who grew up
in a fucked up place and escaped reality by taking drugs. Maybe it’s not Al’s
fault he’s here, not really anyway, maybe he’s just another kid who’s suffering
for his parent’s mistakes. And that’s all he is, a kid. Sometimes, being here,
seeing the way these inmates behave, Dean forgets that they’re all just kids.
People their age are sitting in a classroom right now, complaining about
homework and pop quizzes. People their age are buying tickets to prom and
homecoming, shopping for dresses and whining about the price of corsages. All
while the kids in here, kids the same age, sleep in cells and have to fight for
survival.
Maybe some of them are in here for a good reason, maybe they are honest-to-god
criminals and they deserve all the harsh punishment they get. Maybe some
brought it on themselves -cough cough, Dean.- But maybe…a lot of this could be
avoided if some of them were cared for. Maybe, if Al’s parents had told him
they loved him he wouldn’t have needed to feel it from a drug. Maybe if Jo’s
mom had been open with her and let her be herself, she wouldn’t feel so trapped
that she had to steal makeup. Maybe whatever Cas did to get stuck in here,
wasn’t his fault at all. Maybe it really was his dad.
Maybe Dean needs to talk to Cas. Tell him that he's forgiven.
“Dean? Are you listenin’ boy?” Missouri demands, crossing her arms and looking
at Dean expectantly.
“I’m sorry,” Dean says quickly, rising to his feet, “I really have to go.”
“Wait,” Al grabs Dean’s wrist as he’s heading for the door, looking up at him
through his now dry eyes.
“Uh yeah?”
Al hesitates, “I’m sorry that I beat you up.”
Dean stares at him, not wanting to forgive him -because his ribs still hurt-
but also needing to get out and talk to his cellmate, “Okay. Why’d you change
your mind about me?”
Al glances at Missouri, then back to Dean reluctantly, “You’re rooming with
that Castiel kid.” he shakes his head, “I don’t want to cause you any more
trouble than you already have.”
Dean bites his tongue to keep the snarky remark from slipping out, and says,
“Great.”
Then, he ducks out the door and begins shuffling down the hallway. A lot of the
inmates have returned to their cells, and Dean hopes Cas is there already so he
can talk things out. Tell Cas he forgives him; he’s not ready to let Cas go. He
reaches the cell, Bobby lets him in and locks the door behind him. Cas is
already in bed, curled sideways towards the wall, snoring loudly. Cas is guilty
of snoring, if anything. Dean sighs as he changes into his pajamas and climbs
beneath the covers; he’ll just have to talk to Cas tomorrow.
 
-"Morning mom! Merry Christmas!"
"Heya Dean, hey Sammy. How'd my babies sleep?"
Dean giggles as his mom ruffles his two-year-old brother's hair, "Mommy he
can't talk yet."
Mary grins down at her son, scooping him up and hugging him to her side as she
leads Sam with her hand into the living room, "Well you're certainly right
sweetie, but he will soon."
"I can't wait for Sammy to talk!" Dean insists, "Then he'll get my jokes."
Mary laughs melodically as they arrive in front of the Christmas tree,
decorated sloppily by Dean's four year old hands; uneven lights, half-dangling
homemade ornaments, and a sideways angel placed at the top. John had offered to
let Dean do the whole thing by himself, and of course he jumped at the chance. 
"The tree looks amazing son," John says kindly as Mary sets Sam down on his
father's lap, "Next year maybe Sammy'll be able to help."
Dean beams at the thought of decorating the tree with his little brother, "I
hope so!"
Slowly, Mary begins to pass out the gifts. Dean gets the most extensive pile,
seeing as he's the only one who's really at the right age for Christmas, and
Sam just ends up chewing on the toy truck he's given. Everything goes well,
until Mary hands Dean the last present.
"Santa saw you looking at this, at the store." she tells him, handing him the
box carefully, "He knows how excited you were to see it."
Excitedly, Dean rips the wrapping paper away to reveal the Beach Barbie doll
he'd so longingly admired in the shelves at Walmart, but decided not to ask for
when his friend had called it a 'girls toy', "Whoa. Thank you mommy!"
"Mary," John's voice is suddenly curt, and Dean and Mary both look up at him,
"What's this?"
Mary gives her husband a tight-lipped smile, "Santa brought Dean a gift John,
it's called Christmas."
John gives his wife a pointed look, "I think he mixed them up, because that is
a present for a little girl."
Mary gets to her feet, "May I speak with you in the kitchen?"
John shoots Dean an unreadable glance, but follows Mary out of the room.
Dean barely notices what happens afterwards, he's too preoccupied playing with
the awesome new stuff he'd been gifted generously by both his parents, and the
acclaimed Santa Claus. But, his head snaps up as his parents enter again, and
John holds his hand out for the Barbie.
"Give me that son."
Hesitant, Dean passes the doll over. John looks Dean right in the eye, and
snaps the doll in half, much to his son's horror.
"These are for girls Dean," John specifies clearly, "we do not play with them.
Do not ever let me find you doing something that is for girls. You understand?"
"...Yes daddy."
"Good. Go ahead and play with the BB gun I got you. Let me show you how it
works."
-
“Newbie! Newbie get up get up!”
“Huh?” Dean slurs groggily, shooting up and swiping away the crust around his
eyes to face Castiel, “whas goin’non?!”
“Get up lazy! Quick! Get dressed, you’ve got to come outside!”
There’s something strange in Cas’ tone, something innocent, like the excited
squeal of a school boy on a snow day. Grudgingly, Dean rises from the bed and
swiftly changes his jumpsuit, trying not to notice that Cas stops his excited
jubilance to watch him change. When he finishes, Cas grabs his wrist and begins
tugging him through the hallway, following a slew of other sleepy inmates as
they squeeze through the huge back doors all at once, forgetting about
breakfast which will be cold by the time they return. Dean notices as he and
Cas arrive outside, that guards are handing out jackets to the inmates. Then,
he observes that something is hitting his face. And finally, it registers that
it’s snowing.
The first snowfall of winter, a sign of progression, new beginnings, and most
of all, Christmas.
Dean gratefully takes a jacket, pulling it on over his shoulders as the bite of
winter nips across his cheekbones. Cas grins, opting out of the coat and
bending down to scoop a handful of snow and balls it up in his bare hands,
throwing it at Jo’s back. Jo whirls around, zeroing her eyes in on him.
“Oh you’re in for it Novak!” she warns, as she too scoops up a snowball and
throws it with deadly precision. It hits Cas square in the chest, and he gropes
at his heart like he’s been shot.
“I’m hit!” Cas cries dramatically, falling to his knees, “Newbie, avenge me!”
Dean’s not sure what the hell is going on, or why the other inmates are happily
joining in with the stupid snowball fight, but he decides to play along. He
grabs his own snowball, aiming for Jo. He swings and the white, wet powder
slaps against her forehead.
“Headshot!” Cas bellows, jumping to his feet and crying, “Anarchy!”
All at once Dean’s pelted with a barrage of snowballs from inmates he doesn’t
even know. Laughter, shouting and lighthearted cursing fills the air as the
kids swarm around, nailing each other with icy cold snow and jumping around
like idiots. He sees out of his peripheral vision as Benny and Kevin begin
double-teaming Garth, who hides behind his sock puppet like it’s a lifeline. Jo
and Cas are in a one-on-one heated battle, narrowed eyes and serious
expressions. Dean even sees Al and Crowley playing, hitting people with snow,
hitting eachother with snow, even getting one of the guards and playing
innocent. Dean hasn’t had a snowball fight in years...and he also hasn’t had
this much fun in years. He doesn’t care that he’s covered in snow and water and
frozen down to his gut, he doesn’t care that he’s locked in a juvenile facility
with the most nuts roommate a person could ever ask for, for the moment,
everything is amazing. Cas grabs his upper arm and they duck behind the picnic
table Dean’s come to know as ‘theirs.'
“Sneak attack,” Cas informs him seriously, “I move left, you move right, and we
strike Jo and Kevin while they’re preoccupied with Benny.”
Dean nods, more than happy to forget his anger and join the fun, “On my count?”
“Sure, but just one thing before we go.”
“Yeah?”
Cas leans over and mashes his lips against Dean’s. They’re ice cold and smooth
like a popsicle, his breath smelling of chilled mint and apples. This kiss is
much different than the one they’d shared before, there’s no trace of
desperation or anger in it. Its a gentle, tender, chaste kiss that has Dean
aching for more. This is Castiel’s way of apologizing; sinking the depth of his
remorse into the most incredible form of affection Dean’s ever recieved. And
Dean forgets about Castiel's sempiternal ability to mess with his wayward
emotions. All of his energy and focus, is on matching his lips to the movement
of Castiel's.  
“Aha!” They break away from the kiss as Jo and Kevin stand over them, snowballs
at the ready, “You let your guard down idiots!” As they reign down with their
snowballs, Dean doesn’t even care that he gets covered in snow, all he can
think about is Castiel’s lips, and the euphoria that engrossed him from the
sincerity of the other boy's mouth.
“Damn it!” Cas curses, springing to his feet, “You’re working with them aren’t
you Dean? You sent him with me to distract me!”
“Hell yeah!” Dean grins, hopping up to join the winning team, “Let’s get him!”
***** A Little Bit Of Heaven *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNINGS (definitely necessary) sexual and physical abuse/ food
     mentions/ child abuse/ self hatred.
     it gets pretty dark, so please prepare and try not to attack me if
     you're upset, if I don't properly warn for the content please let me
     know in a kind way and I'll add more warnings! Thanks :)
     Very anxious and excited for your responses to seeing more into
     Castiel...
     Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! :)
Unfortunately, the snowball fight comes to an end as the guards begin ushering
the inmates back inside for lunch. Dean and the other kids strip out of their
jackets, tossing them towards the staff who are collecting them.
Cas throws his arm around Dean’s shaking shoulders as they enter, “Damn Newbie,
you’re freezing.”
“You didn’t even have a jacket on and you’re fine,” Dean complains, “I’m
probably going to get a nasty friggin cold.”
“Aw,” Jo coos teasingly as she walks in behind them, shaking snow out of her
wet hair, “Look at the prison husbands.”
“Shut it Jo or you won’t be my maid of honor,” Cas threatens with a wink.
“Fuck,” she slaps her palm over her mouth and mutters something unintelligible,
before cutting in front of Kevin in the line. He grins at her like a loyal
puppy, and doesn’t seem to mind.
“Sorry,” Cas mutters to Dean as they walk to line together, arm still around
the taller boy, “I can ask her to cool it with comments like that.”
Dean arches an eyebrow; whatever it is about the snow makes Cas very...normal.
He wonders if this is what Cas was like before juvy. He likes it a lot.
“Nah it’s okay. Given the fact that we just exchanged saliva I think she has
the right to gloat.”
Cas smiles, that genuine, innocent smile he so rarely gets that makes Dean’s
heart flutter out of pace and his knees feel like jello. He watches as Cas’
thick arm slides away from his shoulders to grab a tray of food, seeing each
long, bony finger as it curls around the tray and imagining it inside him.
Christ. He really likes Cas, doesn’t he?
Well, no denying it at this point, the guy’s already fingered his ass and
rubbed his cock. He might as well just admit it; there’s nothing straight about
that behavior. Maybe he’ll write an eloquent speech or something to explain to
Cas the way he feels.
“Newbie? You hungry?”
“I’m gay.”
Cas’ head does a 360 spin and he quirks an eyebrow up quizzically at Dean,
“Uh...okay? Not really the answer to my question you know.”
Dean’s face flushes a brilliant crimson red, cursing his idiotic mouth, and he
chokes out, “that’s now how it was supposed to come out.”
Cas chuckles, grabbing an extra tray for Dean, “Not like I didn’t already know.
Although I suspected you might be bisexual?”
“No. No Cas. I’m gay.”
Cas’ mouth pulls up in the corner as his knowing eyes settle on Dean’s face,
“How’s that feel? To say it?”
Dean purses his lips, considering this as they move to a vacant table and sit
across from each other, “I don’t feel any different.”
Cas laughs, “You’re a dork. You’re not any different, still the same Dean.”
Dean smiles lightly, surprised at how true Cas’ words are, “Guess not.”
“Here,” Cas passes him the tray of food and begins to eat his own, beckoning
for their friends to join them. Jo, Kevin, Benny, Garth and a few other people
Dean doesn’t recognize swarm around and sit down at the table. Sitting there,
across from Cas in a midst of people talking and laughing, Dean feels like he’s
back in school. Cas keeps shooting seclusive smiles at him while the others
chatter, and it makes Dean’s face feel warm. He wonders how things can possibly
feel so...normal. But, he supposes that’s what happens, right? You get used to
it eventually, and it becomes life. He’s been here a little over a week and
already this place is starting to feel familiar. Maybe by the time his eighteen
months are over, he won’t want to leave. Okay, that’s taking it pretty far, but
he still doesn’t know what he’ll do. He’s going to miss Cas like hell, and will
his dad even want him at home anymore? He’ll be 17 by then, he’s pretty sure
his dad won’t have any reservations about kicking him out.
“Hey Newbie, you haven’t touched your food.”
Dean shakes out of his stupor and realizes he hasn’t actually eaten since
Tuesday, and it’s Friday now. He should’ve started eating again after getting
over his sickness, but he’d made the mistake of putting it off and now he’s got
a complete lack of appetite.
“Not hungry,” he admits lamely, although he figures he probably should eat.
Cas arches an eyebrow dubiously, “well I don’t care bean pole, you need to
eat.”
“Bean pole?”
“Dean, eat.”
Dean nods, poking at his mac n’ cheese reluctantly, and bringing a bite to his
lips. Once he takes a few bites, it gets easier, and he manages to eat most of
it. He tries not to be flattered by the proud look Cas gives him.
~
 
Sometimes, Castiel has nightmares.
Some of the time they’re nonsensical; blurred and speedy visions of horror
creatures from scary movies in his past. He hasn’t had one in three weeks, so
he’s been sleeping alright. But there’s the all-too-often occasion, where
images of his parents overwhelm his dreams. His father with a kitchen knife and
a candle lighter, pulling off his clerical robes and whispering, “Do this for
me Castiel. God wants this.”
Cas would fight him off at first, screaming at the top of his lungs and begging
for one of his older brothers or his mom to come home and do something,
anything. His father, Pastor Novak, would make Castiel touch him. He would
touch Cas right back, no matter how Cas cried and begged him not to. He'd run
his fingers along Cas' skinny chest, plucking up Castiel's gold cross necklace,
running it between his thumb and index finger sensually. He'd murmur soft
prayers over Castiel's naked, trembling body, as if blessing the sacrilegious
acts he prepared to commit. If Cas resisted too harshly, he’d be punished,
hence the lighter and knife.
“Such a pretty boy,” his father would whisper, “my pretty little Castiel..”
Eventually, this became normal. That’s not to say that Cas enjoyed it or
thought it was right, but somewhere along the line he detached. It became
easier to just let his father carry on with his fucked up ways than to keep
fighting. It grew too hard, Cas wasn’t strong enough. He was all alone anyway,
who even cared? When he took the fall for his father’s crimes, he knew he’d be
escaping the clutches of an evil man.
“Castiel,” Pastor Novak would moan roughly as he stroked his thumbs across his
son’s forehead in the shape of a cross, finding erotisism in an act that should
be holy.
“Cas...Cas...little Cas…”
“Cas? Cas? Cas!”
Castiel’s body jolts up, a sheen of sweat coating his face and neck as he sucks
in a gulp of air and his eyes dart around. Dean. He’s not there; he’s not home.
He’s not sleeping on the floor to avoid climbing into the very bed where his
childhood horrors occurred; he’s comfortable in a twin cot that hundreds of
others have slept in.
“Cas what is it?” Pale light from the bedside lamp casts over Dean’s tanned
face; his freckles stark against the sunkissed skin. His olive eyes are wide,
brows arched up in a concerned expression.
“Cas say something,” Dean demands in that petulant, sassy voice that Cas has
grown to both resent and relish in.
“Sorry,” he manages, blinking sleep away from his eyes and swallowing the lump
in his throat, “didn’t mean to wake you.”
Get it fucking together Castiel. Not in front of Dean.
Dean eyes him dubiously, “Bad dream?”
Cas runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, “Uh, kinda.”
Dean ponders this, and then without asking permission, pulls himself up on the
top bunk besides Cas. How bold of him.
“What are you doing?” Cas inquires, more shaken from the dream than he’d like
to admit.
“Scooch over,” Dean demands, sliding under the blanket beside Cas and curling
around him.
Cas finds himself laughing, “Are you spooning me Newbie?”
“Tryin’ to, don’t make me regret it.”
Cas rolls over, twisting Dean’s thin body around so it’s Castiel whose arms are
around his waist and Dean who’s embraced, “I’m the big spoon.”
Dean laughs breathlessly, “you’re strong.”
No I’m not. I’m weak. I’m pathetic and worthless.
“So what was it about?” Dean whispers, clicking off the lamp as he settles into
the crook of Cas’ chest.
“The dream?”
“Mhm.”
Cas runs his fingers through the fine hairs on Dean’s neck, finding comfort in
the soft little fuzzy locks. Dean smells like generic facility soap, but also
faintly of green apples. Cas doesn’t know where that comes from, maybe it’s his
natural smell, but it’s fantastic. Dean’s skin is warm to the touch, the bony
curves of his elbows and knuckles a little cooler than the rest. Cas’ fingers
rove from Dean’s hair down his side and tuck Dean tighter against his body.
“Nothing important.” he lies softly.
“You sure?” Dean murmurs; his voice is a sleepy lull.
“Yeah Newbie, don’t worry about it. Get some sleep huh?”
“This is nice,” Dean admits quietly, “You being so…”
“Not fucked up?”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
Yes it is. I am fucked up. I’m so fucked. I’ll never be normal, why do I even
try?
“So what happens now?” Cas asks softly, his breath washing over Dean’s neck and
making the other boy shiver.
“Dunno Cas. I guess just roll with it.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you want to fuck me or not? Why else
would you come up here and cuddle with me? That's all I'm good for Dean, why
don't you just touch me already?
 “Okay…”
When Dean makes no move to mount Cas and attempt to ride his cock, Cas leans
over to get a look at the boy’s face. Dean’s sound asleep, a light snore
puffing out of his cute little nose every few seconds. He looks so at ease;
face serene without it’s usual stressed, confused expression. His plump little
lips pull down in a pout -just like when he’s awake- his ridiculously long
eyelashes brushing his freckled cheeks as they flutter sweetly. Cas has never
seen anyone so beautiful; so innocent yet so harrowed by experience. Dean is
both newborn and a million years old. He’s a stark contrast of pleasure and
pain, joy and sorrow. He is thousands of things all at once, a whirlwind of
passion and tranquility. Intelligent and idiotic, complex and yet so simple.
Dean is everything.
Cas scoots a little tighter, clutching his everything tight and not releasing
him until he falls into a dreamless sleep.
-
The next morning, Cas awakens to an empty bed. He feels around in the sheets
for the heat of Dean’s body, but is greeted by only cool, crisp bedspreads. He
realized it was a mistake.
What were you thinking Castiel? Like he’d ever fucking want you.
“Down here Cas,” comes Dean’s voice from beside the bottom bunk.
Cas leans over, quirking an eyebrow up at the fully-dressed boy in front of
him, “Morning.”
“I was gonna wake you up, but you looked peaceful. It’s visiting day today…”
Cas lets out a little half-sigh and sits up, hopping off the bed and landing on
the balls of his feet beside Dean, “Your mom’s here?”
Dean nods, buttoning up his jumpsuit and biting his lip, “Your family?”
“Not coming anymore.”
“I’m sor-”
Cas cuts his words off with a quick, frantic kiss. It’s just supposed to shut
him up, but Dean deepens the kiss, looping his fingers bravely in the waistband
of Cas’ pants. Well, admitting he’s gay certainly did wonders for his
confidence, didn’t it?
Dean’s mouth leaves Castiel’s after a few heated, passionate seconds, “You
don’t even have morning breath. Amazing.”
Cas chokes out a laugh, as Dean’s hands slide out from his pajama pants and
return to his own pockets, “What can I say? I’m perfect.”
Bullshit you ass, you’re garbage.
Dean waits patiently for Cas to get dressed and even goes to the bathroom with
him to brush his teeth. Cas assumes this is because Dean feels bad for him; his
family is no longer going to be visiting, so Cas will spend the first few hours
of the day sulking around with Jo and Benny in the rec room, probably watching
Flubber for the ten thousandth time. As they walk down the hall towards the
visitors room, Dean peaks in, “It’s just my mom. Dad and Sammy didn’t come.”
“Your dad seems like a jackass anyway,” Cas mutters, crossing his arms, “you
deserve better.”
Dean rolls his eyes, something Cas has noticed he does when complimented. Cas
bites his lip, wondering where Dean’s self-deprecating attitude came from.
Perhaps from his father’s treatment, or maybe it’s been internalized from day
one.
“I’ll see you soon,” Dean promises, looking hesitant to leave Cas alone, as if
he hasn’t survived the past four years here on his own.
“Have a good visit Newbie.” Cas leans up, kisses Dean’s forehead, and starts
back towards the rec room. Maybe today he’ll change the movie. He enters the
recreation room and spots Jo, Benny and Garth sitting on one of the plush
couches. They’re watching Flubber again, but none of them are even paying
attention. Cas starts forward, but is pulled back by a strong hand. Whirling on
his heels he bares his fist at the perpetrator, coming face-to-face with
Alastair.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cas demands, “I should knock your teeth out for
touching me.”
God, Cas hates threatening people. But Alastair? Especially after what he did
to Dean, is fucking easy to threaten. Cas loves scaring this asshole.
“I just wanna talk,” Al responds in a low voice, “about Dean.”
Cas’ brows pull down, “I’m not going to talk about Dean with you.”
“I don’t think you should hangout with him. It’s not good for him.”
Cas’ jaw practically unhinges, “You? The guy who cracked his ribs and fucked up
his face, don’t think I should be around him? That’s a joke Alastair.”
“Look, maybe I kicked his ass, but at least I’m up front about it. Don’t fool
that kid into thinking you give a shit about him. He don’t deserve that.”
“What makes you so sure that I don’t give a shit about him?” Cas demands,
squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin menacingly.
“Because you’re fucking Castiel,” Al snarls back, “you and him are different.
He’s innocent man, you’re...you’ve got a lot more fucked up shit under your
belt. You’re gonna poison that kid, he’ll never get out of here.”
Cas glances towards the door of the visiting room, eyes trailing to the
separating glass window. Dean is sitting across from his mom, they’re smiling
and laughing, holding hands. She reaches across the table and touches his face
lovingly, a gesture that had a much different context in Castiel’s childhood.
Cas grimaces and turns back to Al,
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, shithead.”
He’s right Cas, you’re fucked up. You’re going to hurt Dean, you know it.
Everyone knows it. Even Dean’s enemy knows it.
“I’m not gonna do anything bad to the kid.”
You’re going to ruin his life.
“I protect him, from jerks like you, so back off douchepants.”
Just because you quote him on his unorthodox attempts at insults doesn’t mean
you’re fooling anyone.
Al crosses his arms, “Just know, there are other people watching out for him
too.”
The meth head turns on his feet and stalks across the room, back to where his
gross posse is starting up a card game.
Listen to that jerk-off, don’t hurt Dean. Dean didn’t do anything.
“I’m not gonna do anything.” Cas mutters under his breath, moving to a vacant
loveseat to skulk.
As he waits for Dean to finish up his visit, he keeps replaying Al’s words in
his head, wondering how much truth is really in them. He looks towards the
window that leads outside; the snow is falling hard now, becoming hail. It
slaps against the windows, melting down the side like teardrops.
Cas pulls one of the couch cushions up against chest and hugs it tight, biting
his lip and avoiding the world around him. He hums Nirvana quietly in his head,
trying to escape his own thoughts.
You're only gonna hurt him Castiel. That's all you do.
You try and you fail.
"Not this time," he whispers like a total nutjob, "not this time."
***** The Satirical Story *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNINGS: NSFW, allusions to sexual/physical abuse/self hatred.
     Mature general content of course, please read carefully.
     I just want to say thank you for reading and commenting and leaving
     kudos :) Means a lot and reading and responding to comments improves
     my day! <3
     Please enjoy, let me know your thoughts.
It gets hard on occasion, acting like nothing is wrong. Castiel has mastered
the art of deception; the forced smile and eerie, confident attitude that mold
his utterly imperceptible feelings into a false front of pleasantry. He’s had
to adapt, to learn how to function as normally as he can with his experiences
hanging on his shoulders, dragging him down with every step. It’s never been
easy, it’s a constant battle upwards, a pressure inside his gut that fights
against everything in his mind. His feelings are multifaceted, and yet he must
pretend as if he’s a clock. Simple wires and springs must be pulled in order
for him to work, he is simple, he is malleable. Of course this isn’t true; he’s
complex, he’s an intricate design of an endless amount of emotion and triggers,
but nobody can know that. He must, as always, fake it.
When he sees Dean’s face, this becomes slightly easier.
It’s not that Dean makes him feel simple; the boy only stirs up more jumbled
confusion within his mind. But being around Dean, makes the smile feel genuine.
It makes the jokes funny, sincere. It makes the confidence slightly more
believable. The past two weeks have been, to say the least, interesting.
Castiel never expected a “prison relationship” if that’s what this is. He isn’t
sure. He nor Dean have expressed explicitly what they plan on being called,
they just, as Dean put it “roll with it.” It’s definitely more than friendship;
there are late night kisses and hands brushing along the most intimate of skin,
accompanied by midnight whispers of affection and constant codependency. But
neither of them have decided to put a name on what they have. Tonight, Dean
seems more comfortable than usual.
“So that night…” Dean murmurs, rolling over in the bunk to face Castiel, “the
night that we…”
The night I fucking destroyed everything?
“The night we were intimate.” Cas supplies in response to Dean’s lack of words.
“Until the uh...end, it was nice. Really nice.”
Cas cocks an eyebrow, a small smile forming on his lips, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah…” Dean picks at the fabric of the blanket on the bottom bunk, biting his
lip, “I don’t know if you were enjoying it as much as me, but I-” he sighs
softly and looks into Castiel’s eyes, like the gaze will supplement
description.
“I understand,” Cas murmurs.
Don’t fuck him Cas, don’t fuck him. You don’t want to fuck him. Everyone you
fuck ends up hurt.
“I’d like to do it again,” he lies, running a sensual finger down Dean’s arm.
Dean smiles, and leans in, placing a soft, tender kiss against Cas’ mouth. Cas
gripes at his waist, pressing their chests together as he deepens the kiss and
forms his lips around Dean’s. Dean’s breath is hot, his exhales quick and
frantic. Cas feels his heart through the white pajama T, Dean’s heartbeat is
rapid and short, like a small animal’s.
“You got lube or something?” Dean pants, peeling his shirt off to expose his
skinny, heated chest.
Cas nods, “Vaseline okay?”
“Sure.”
Cas leans into the bedside cupboard, pulling out the small bottle of vaseline
he’d gotten at commissary, popping the cap open. It’s almost empty, he uses it
for things other than sexual lubrication of course. He’ll have to swing by
commissary and buy another jar, he assumes they’ll need it.
“You nervous?” Cas asks him gruffly, tearing away at his own shirt and leaning
down to trail soft, moist kisses along Dean’s body.
Bend over, hide the scar. It’s hideous. You’re a monster.
Dean’s answer comes out in the form of a moan, “no.”
You should be.
“Good.”
He reaches over and palms Dean through his gray sweats. The younger boy’s face
contorts into the cutest little “o” and Cas finds himself chuckling at Dean’s
utter inexperience. Slowly, Cas slides Dean’s pants down his legs, making sure
the pads of his index fingers brush against Dean’s tanned skin. The slimmer boy
writhes beneath Castiel’s teasing touch, gnawing on his bottom lip in a way
that makes the blood rush to Cas’ head. Dean’s body is hot, he’s always
particularly warm, but arousal flushes his skin into a balmy blanket. Dean
surprises Cas by reaching towards him and trailing his fingers along Castiel’s
waistline. His index and middle finger pick at the band around his pants,
slowly tugging it down.
‘Daddy please...don’t touch me there...please.’
Cas smacks his hand away, startling him. Castiel licks his lips, “Hold still.”
he whispers roughly, as he removes his own pants and boxers so Dean doesn’t
have to.
‘God wants this Castiel, put your hand right here.That’s right son, perfect.’
The cross is ice cold around Cas’ sweaty neck as he dips two fingers in the
vaseline and slides them into Dean’s entrance.
‘What are you crying for boy? C’mon little Cas, muster a smile for your daddy.’
Dean’s moan breaks through the air, low and rusty. His eyes squeeze shut, and
short little breaths puff out through his perfectly sculpted lips, his body
shivering with the ecstasy Castiel’s experienced fingers can bring. Silently,
Cas rolls Dean on his stomach, slipping his fingers out and quickly popping
them back in with a faster motion. Dean grunts, rocking his perky little ass
back against Castiel’s hand, who kneads one of his ass cheeks with a free hand.
Dean lets out a little yelp when Cas spanks him, but it melts into a pleasured
sigh, and he moans in encouragement. Still pumping two fingers in Dean’s tight,
pink hole, Cas slaps his ass a few more times, feeling the sight of it
stiffening his cock.
“Are you ready?” Cas asks gruffly, feeling Dean stretching comfortably around
his fingers.
Dean nods, burying his face in a pillow and lifting his hand-printed ass high
in the air, “fuck me Castiel.”
Cas makes sure both his dick and Dean’s entrance are slick enough as not to
cause Dean too much discomfort, and he gradually begins to enter. To his
credit, Dean only grunts with displeasure twice, which for someone who’s never
had anything more than fingers in their ass, is impressive. He takes almost all
of Cas’ dick, letting out little whooshes of breath that are clearly pleasant.
‘Doesn’t this feel good little Cas? Daddy’s fingers all over you?’
Cas begins to plunge himself into Dean, back and forth robotically. Each
forward thrust visibly weakens Dean’s knees, but he keeps his ass up in the air
like Castiel’s good little slut.
‘Look at you, daddy’s little whore. You’re filthy.’
Cas lets out a noise that’s in between a groan and a whimper, sinking himself
deeper and harder into Dean’s flesh, feeling every inch of the green-eyed boy’s
sensitive skin around his cock.
“Are you okay?” Dean pants, head still down.
Cas blinks away the wetness in his eyes and roughly responds, “Yes. You?”
“Amazing,” Dean whispers back, gripping the sheets as Cas hits deep, shooting
boughs of electricity through both of their bodies.
‘Don’t push me away you ungrateful child! You let daddy touch you, or you’re
going to pay!’
The next few minutes are stocked with thick panting, whispered curses and
groans, and the collision of sweat-slicked bodies. Dean finishes first,
stimulated both by Castiel’s hand stroking down his cock, and the rough
pounding of his vestal ass. Then, Cas jerks out, whips Dean on his back, and
cums hard across his stomach.
‘That’s what I thought. Good boy. This is what you’re good for. This is your
purpose.’
After a few moments of silent fixated stares, Dean manages, “wow.”
“Wow.” Cas agrees softly.
“That was...awesome.” Dean laughs a little, “best first time I could’ve asked
for.”
“In a juvy cell,” Cas manages with a weak smile, “romantic.”
“With you?” Dean shakes his head, “Man you could make death romantic.”
“Romeo and Juliet already did that,” Cas points out, getting off of Dean so he
can wipe off.
Dean climbs out of bed shakily and cleans himself up, “I amnot going to take
the time to explain to you why Romeo and Juliet is a satire. But,” he climbs
back into bed, kissing Cas’ cheek warmly, “It’s definitely not romantic.”
Cas chuckles, flopping down beside Dean’s naked body and spooning up against
him, “Whatever you say is fact to me.”
“You’re cute.”
“I must be.”
Dean smiles, but grows serious moments after, “Hey...Cas?”
“Yeah Newbie?”
“Can I….that scar on your stomach...what happened?”
Nice going Castiel you fucking idiot, Dean thinks you’re disgusting. Filthy.
Worthless.
“It’s nothing Newbie,” Cas promises, kissing Dean’s neck sweetly in the hopes
it will distract him, “there’s some stuff we don’t need to know about each
other.”
“Great,” Dean mutters sarcastically, “we just had sex and I don’t even know
your middle name.”
Cas laughs, “That’d be Jeremiah.”
“Really?”
“Really really.”
“Castiel Jeremiah Novak. Huh. I like that.”
“And yours?”
“Henry, after my grandfather.”
“Dean Henry Winchester. Cute.”
“Glad we got that out of the way,” Dean says with a yawn, “now I don’t feel as
guilty.”
Cas frowns, “why would you feel guilty?”
Because he just fucked a huge, filthy slut.
“I feel like I don’t know anything about you. We’ve been doing this….thing for
a few weeks now, but I mean, we don’t know each other.”
Cas gnaws on his lip, “Well I don’t see why that matters so much Newbie, we
know each other. You’re Dean, you’re 16 years old, you steal to feel alive, you
have an asshole dad, a nice kid brother and a good mom. You get sick from being
in the same damn room as a germ, and your middle name is Henry.”
“I don’t steal to-” he sighs softly, turning to face Cas. Castiel finds himself
admiring the way Dean’s eyelashes cast shadows on his freckled cheeks, how they
flutter and frame his jade eyes like perfectly matched drapes. The dim light of
their bedside lamp makes his sunkissed skin luminous, “Cas, when you touch me,
I do feel alive.”
‘Feels so good when you touch me little Cas...’
“Really?” Cas stammers out, voice wavering more than he’d like, “I do that for
you?”
“Everyone thinks you’re this big scary criminal,” Dean licks his mouth and
says, “I did too at first, but being here is making me learn that sometimes
this can be avoided with love. I don’t know where you come from, but it must
not be very nice. Because you’re not a criminal Cas. You...you scare me
sometimes, but you’re not bad.”
You’re wrong Dean, I am bad. I’m garbage.
“Besides,” Dean continues as if he’s afraid Cas will try to stop him, “not
everyone would’ve come to my defense when Al threatened me on the first day, or
defend Jo’s gender identity, or take the fall for a crime they didn’t commit.”
Cas stiffens, and refrains from strangling Dean. He wishes he would stop
bringing that up, but it’s not like Cas can punish him. Not anymore. He’s in
too deep to want to do anything but care for Dean.
“And I know it’s kind of nuts to say this Cas, when I’ve known you for barely a
month, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Fuck Dean, why would you say that?
“What?”
“Think I kinda love you Cas,” Dean repeats slowly, eyeing Cas as if he expects
rejection.
“Why are you saying that?” Cas demands, genuinely puzzled.
“What do you mean why?”
Because I’m not worth shit, why would anyone want to give me affection?
When Cas says nothing, Dean swallows hard, “Do you not feel the same?”
C’mon Cas, don’t reciprocate the love. It will only make it harder when things
crash apart.
“I do.”
Fucking idiot. You’re both going to end up destroyed.
Shut up, Cas thinks, I want this.
Your selfishness ruins everything Cas.
“I’m scared,” Dean admits, looking down shamefully.
“Of what?” Cas inquires, running a hand across Dean’s cheek soothingly.
“What’s going to happen when you turn eighteen. You're gonna age out...go to
actual prison."
Cas nods, biting his lip, “My birthday is in February.”
Dean’s breath catches, “that’s- that’s two months from now.”
Cas clenches his jaw, “I’m sorry Dean.”
Dean shakes his head, “I don’t want to think about it.”
Cas nods and smiles, “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“Right. You too.” Dean leans over the side of the bed and tugs his pants on,
handing Cas’ pair to him. Cas slides them on over his legs, and hugs Dean a
little tighter against his scarred chest.
-
Dean awakens with an eyeful of Castiel’s scar.
His face is buried into the thicker boy’s chest, it’s so warm and soft in
there, perfect for sleeping. This place has the lamest heater on Earth, and
since December has just begun, each night gets colder and colder. He stares at
Cas’ marred flesh, wondering what had happened to create such an eyesore.
Perhaps a fight with another inmate, or a really fucked up home experience, or
maybe he escaped a fire or something. Either way, it’s pretty gruesome, and
must’ve hurt like a bitch. Dean settles a little tighter into the crook of Cas’
chest, thinking about last night’s events. So Cas had fucked him, nice and hard
and fulfilling. Then, like the idiot Dean is, he’d accidentally spilled the
fact that he’s starting to fucking love his terrifying cellmate more than he
should. Dean wonders if it took Cas so long to respond because he was reluctant
about his affections, or because the feelings were unrequited completely and he
had to lie.
Either way, it didn’t do much good for Dean’s self esteem. But, despite however
Cas feels about Dean, he still manages to alight a fire inside him that only
one other thing can do. When Cas’ hands rove over Dean’s flesh, his adrenaline
bursts with electricity and his entire body seizes up with life. He’s long
since forgotten the lonely droll of what sex used to be, after one night with
Cas, he’s reimagined coitus in a way that makes his teeth chatter and his knees
shaky. Dean hopes the sex was as excellent for Cas as it was for Dean -who
discovered last night he’s got a real thing for spanking and being dominated-
but either way he didn’t show.
Cas almost seemed to shut down during the sex, like he was focusing on
following through with a task rather than enjoying something for himself. Maybe
he’s over analyzing things and making mountains out of molehills. He thinks Ms.
Missouri was wrong, Cas isn’t crazy. He’s just...eccentric. He’s several
different layers of emotion, scary just happens to be the outer layer. Cas
rolls back in bed, mumbling in his sleep. Dean’s noticed he does this
sometimes. In between obnoxious snores -which Dean finds endearing as hell- the
bigger boy tends to grumble things in his sleep. Usually it’s unintelligible,
but every so often Dean will get lucky and hear actual phrases.
“no…” Cas is whispering weakly, his dry lips forming feebly over the words,
“please…”
Dean frowns, Cas must be having another nightmare. He hasn’t had one since the
first time Dean noticed it, but his expression is troubled, and a sheen of
sweat collects at his hairline. Dean wonders if he should wake him up like he
did last time. He knows it’s bad to wake up people who are having nightmares,
and he and Cas don’t even have to be awake for at least another hour, but he
can’t stand seeing that look on Castiel’s face. He’s normally so in control, so
confident and eerie, but when he has these nightmares, his face contorts into
the truth: fear.
Suddenly, Cas’ body jerks up into a sitting position, eyes wide as he cries
out, “stop!”
Dean looks up at him, a little startled, “Cas?”
“Sorry,” Cas pants after getting his bearings, swallowing hard, “b-bad dream.”
“Are you okay?” Cas glances down at him, shivering like Dean was the star of
his nightmare or something. He looks traumatized, as if he and Dean have traded
personalities, and now Cas is the feeble one.
“Come here,” Dean encourages, pulling Cas back into a sleeping position and
hugging his arms around Cas’ waist, “don’t think about it.”
Cas nods, breathing hard and relaxing into Dean’s touch as his hands thumb
through the fine hairs on Dean’s neck.
“You need a haircut,” Cas whispers softly.
Dean chuckles, “I do.”
“We should ask Jo today,” Cas suggests, his voice steadying, “she’s great with
a pair of scissors.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dean promises, smiling up at Cas, who offers a weak smile
in return.
Maybe this is what needs to happen; simple comfort and small talk. Maybe this
is what Cas needs when things go badly in his mind, a little bit of normality
to offset the insanity. Dean doesn’t know if this can work in the long run,
ultimately it just covers up the issue and avoids dealing with things, but that
seems to be how they roll. Until things change, Dean will make Cas happy by
helping him forget. It’s all he can offer, a little amnesia-based serenity.
Who knows? It might be good for both of them.
***** Cat's in the Cradle *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNINGS: mentions of sexual/physical abuse of a minor. General
     mature content, please read with discretion. :)
     Thank you all so much for the support! <3 <3
     Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!
 
 
“Winchester! Novak! Visitors!"
Frowning, Cas hops down from the top bunk towards the open door of his and
Dean’s cell. Dean’s halfway out the doorway, and Mr. Singer is staring
expectantly at the both of them.
“I’m staying in today,” Cas explains to the guard, sniffing, “Dean gave me his
cold.”
Dean smiles apologetically, and Cas blows him a kiss to remind him it’s okay.
“Forget it kid,” Singer shakes his head, “Got family visiting today. Throw on a
jumpsuit and you two get your lily white asses down there.”
“That’s impossible,” Cas argues, getting a little irritated with this guard’s
definite false information, “My family doesn’t visit anymore.”
“It’s not those snotty brothers, it’s the pastor.”
Cas freezes, entire body going rigid. The blood in his veins runs ice cold,
sending a shudder dancing across his spine. Dean’s smile widens, “Your dad?
That’s great Cas.”
Yeah Dean it’s fucking fantastic! Haven’t seen him in four years, let’s see if
he can keep his hands off my dick!
“Yeah.” Cas says through the bile in his throat, “Awesome.”
“Well get dressed and we can go.” Dean encourages, stepping outside as Cas
robotically strips out of his pajamas and into his beige jumpsuit.
“I have to brush my teeth,” Cas says as he follows Dean and Singer down the
hall.
“Stop procrastinating,” Singer rolls his eyes, “do it when you’re done.”
The hallway stretches for miles when Cas wants to get to breakfast. It’s
endless when he’s going to see Dean. It takes ten years to cross this hall when
it’s taco night. Today, the hallway ends abruptly, putting Cas exactly where he
doesn’t want to be.
Dean puts his hand on the doorknob separating them from the visiting room, and
Cas says, “Wait.”
Dean turns towards him, cocking an eyebrow curiously, “Yeah Cas?”
“I don’t want to get him sick,” Cas insists lamely.
Dean frowns, “Why the hell are you stalling?”
Cas shakes it off, sighing heavily, “I- I’m not. Let’s go.”
Alright Cas, you can do this. Just man up. Go in there, don’t take any shit.
It’ll be over before you know it.
His shoes cross the threshold, and then Dean leaves his side. He sees the other
boy join his mother at a table near the back, and Cas has never felt more
vulnerable.
“Castiel?”
Rigidly, Cas whirls his body sideways towards the sound of the eerily familiar
voice. When he looks at the man, every construct of confidence and toughness
that Cas has acquired vanishes. His walls crumble down, crashing at his feet,
pieces of brick colliding with the linoleum. His skin is peeled away, and every
pair of eyes in the room peers inside him like human x-ray machines.
Oh god, that’s him.
“Castiel,” Pastor Novak repeats, rising from his seat, “is that you son?”
“No,” Castiel snaps back, crossing his beefy arms, “It’s the fucking Spice
Girls,tell me what you really really want.”
Very clever Cas, way to burn him.
Pastor Novak’s brows pull up comically, “Such language from a child of God?”
“Please dad, be modest, you’re just a pastor.”
“What is this?” he orders, “sit down and speak to me.”
Despite every bone in his body begging him to inch away from the older man,
Castiel steps forward and sits across from his father. Arms still crossed,
resting bitch face plastered on. It’s the only way he’ll get through this.
“So?” Cas demands, “Did you come for a reason or did you plan to sit and stare
like a fucking corpse?” His father looks appalled. Ha! He’s appalled. That’s
rich.
“Castiel, what’s happened to you? Last I saw you...you were my little boy. Look
at you now, grown like a weed! Is that facial hair?”
Cas runs a hand across the small stubble forming on his jaw. He’d been pretty
damn proud of it, especially when Dean had observed it the other morning,
saying, “I’m digging the rugged look Cas.”
“Yes,” he says, and then lies, “I haven’t gotten the chance to shave yet.”
He’s never shaved in his life. But, he his dad has to see that Cas doesn’t need
him. He’s just fine on his own. He’s a man, not some freaky pervert’s little
bitch.
“You look handsome,” Pastor Novak says sincerely, “so much like your mother.”
Cas’ teeth grind together, “you’ve got a lot of nerve you fucking prick.”
The pastor sighs, running a hand through his thinning dark hair. Cas observes
some gray in it that wasn’t there the last time he and his father interacted.
“Son, you must know, I’ve recanted.” he shakes his head, “I’ve been forgiven
for my sins. The things I did to you as a child did not go unpunished.”
“Oh really?” Cas spits, sitting up to face his father head-on, “You’ve been
forgiven have you? By who?”
“The lord of course,” his father replies matter-of-factly, “I confessed, I lost
you as punishment.”
Cas is so furious he can’t even begin to explain to his father how fucking
stupid he sounds.
“You’re a goddamn idiot,” Cas growls, forcing himself to keep his voice down,
“he doesn’t get to forgive you! You didn’t fucking molest him-”
“Language Castiel.”
“Fuck you! I’m the one who says whether or not you’re forgiven. And guess what
you sick fuck? You’renot. You’re a monster. Oh, and by the way douchepants,
you’re the reason I’m here.”
The pastor shakes his head, dumbfounded, “What did you call me?”
Cas’ teeth grind audibly, “Douche. Pants.”
You really need a new comeback Cas, damn.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“And I thought Rose and Jack were gonna survive Titanic. Life’s full of
disappointment you fucking pedophile.”
“Stop calling me that,” the pastor snipes, “I’m a man of God, I will not be
spoken to with such vulgarity.”
“Wanna know what’s vulgar? Touching and abusing your kid. That’ll buy you an
eternity downstairs won’t it dad?”
Pastor Novak gasps and crosses himself, “You dare speak of Hell to me you
criminal?”
Cas laughs bitterly, “Hey dad, I think you’re forgetting, you’re the criminal.
I didn’t take all that money from the church, you did. I didn’t abuse my kid,
you did. I didn’t betray my church and my faith, you did. Which one of us is
really going to spend eternity up on cupcake cloud?”
“Excuse me?”
Cas scratches his neck, “It’s- uh, that’s what I call heaven.”
“You are still a child in many ways Castiel,” the pastor says anxiously,
“Despite your....disturbingly filled out physique. You don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
“Why did you come here?” Cas inquires, “what do you want?”
“I wanted to see my son...and your brothers told me your appeal hearing went
well. They told me that you said you didn’t commit the crime.”
“So you’re here to tell me to keep my mouth shut?”
“I needn't worry about that Castiel, what evidence have you got? Stealing money
from your church and using it for your own personal needs is a very serious
crime, especially in our hometown. You really think they’re gonna believe the
pastor did it?”
“Gotta give it to you dad,” Cas snaps, “that’s vindictive.”
“It’s the truth Castiel. I couldn’t get you out if I tried.”
“Not that you’d try.”
“I’m very disappointed in you son,” Pastor Novak says sadly, as if he’s lost a
nice pair of boots, “This place has changed you. You’ve lost sight of your
faith.”
“No,” Cas shakes his head, “I haven’t lost my faith at all dad, I love God. You
know what I’ve lost?” he leans forward a little, making his words as venomous
as he can manage, “Lost my fucking loyalty to you. I lost that scared little
boy who’d bend over backwards for you, maybe even literally.”
No you haven’t, you’re still that weak, pathetic little boy. You’re terrified.
No one’s buying this.
The pastor clears his throat, and rises, “I think this was a mistake.”
“Really?” Cas laughs, voice laced with sarcasm, “because you’ve been the
pinnacle of good decisions in the past!”
“I’m not sure if I’ll be returning.”
“Is that a promise?”
Pastor Novak hesitates, “Don’t you miss me?”
Cas gets to his feet, squaring his shoulders, pleased that in the past four
years he’s grown an inch taller than his father, “Not a fucking bit.”
“Well,” the pastor quips, “I better be leaving then. I’ll see you when they
transfer you to state prison.”
“Have fun in Hell, bastard.”
Pastor Novak ignores this as he kindly thanks a guard and steps out. Cas curses
softly, ignoring the accusatory eyes of some of the visitors and pushing
through the door that leads to the rec room.
-
Cas is moody when Dean enters the rec room after visitation. He’s kind of
confused; he’d thought Cas seeing his dad might make him happy. Maybe his dad
is confessing to his crime or something? Well, if the visit went well, Cas
isn’t showing it. Dean enters the room and finds Cas and Jo on the couch,
grumbling petulantly to each other. Smiling and feeling pleased with the visit
from his mom, Dean plops down beside Cas.
“Hey guys,” he says when there’s a break in the conversation.
“Hey Dean,” Jo greets him kindly. Cas says nothing.
Dean frowns a little, searching Castiel’s stupid unreadable expression for
something that will explain his behavior. It’s not like Cas is gonna start
opening up and talking about it himself, even after being together for almost
three weeks, the two of them haven’t really gotten their ability to talk in
order. Still, Cas hasn’t been this way in a while. Things have been pretty
smooth. Romantic, sweet, sexy even. Calm and normal….yep, that’s how Dean is
describing his gay prison relationship.
Jesus, how is this his life?
Rec time passes slowly, Dean and Cas don’t talk much. Dean doesn’t like it; it
reminds him of his first few days here. He’d never felt so alone. Recently,
he’s been feeling so content. Cas makes him feel so good, like he’s perfect in
every way. Dean feels wanted, and right, and pleasant. There’s never been
anyone who can make Dean love himself the way Cas can.
They walk to dinner together, and instead of sitting with friends as usual, Cas
leans over and says to Dean, “I’m going to go to bed early.”
Dean pauses with his tray, “You don’t want to eat?”
“No.”
“Hey, Cas wait a sec.” Dean reaches out, grabbing at his wrist.
“Don’t touch me!” Cas shouts, yanking his hand away from Dean and stepping
back. Dean’s jaw drops, and he stumbles back, more freaked out than he’d like
to admit.
Cas glances around at a few surprised faces, and mutters, “Sorry Dean.” before
turning on his heel and skulking away out of the cafeteria.
Dean stares after him, a complex mixture of emotions curling around in his
brain.
“I thought so.”
Dean spins around to face Alastair, who continues talking, “guy’s no good. You
guys have been getting chummy. But c’mon Eyelashes, he don’t care.”
Dean scowls, “I thought you and I were friends?”
“We are pal, that’s why I’m saying this.”
“He had a bad day,” Dean mutters, tucking his tray against his scrawny chest,
“he’ll cool down.”
“He seems a little tempermental for you don’t you think? I mean, you’re all of
fifty pounds. Aren’t you worried he’ll bend you over his knee and snap you in
half or something?”
“Al, I appreciate the concern, but stop talking maybe?”
“Wanna sit with us tonight?”
Dean sighs, it’s not like his night is going anywhere else, “Alright. Make
Crowley promise not to split my lip.”
Al chuckles, “Scouts honor.”
Dean follows his -God help him- friend over to the table and sits down. The
table is crowded with big, sweaty jerks who are all cursing and laughing and
making dirty jokes about women. Damn, how does Al put up with these jerks?
“What’s up cunt munchers?” Al greets them, and belches.
Oh, that’s how.
Dean sighs again and eats his food unenthusiastically; tonight’s gonna be a
long, long night.
***** Unlocked *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING: mentions of sexual/physical abuse/ self hatred and other
     mature content.
     Sorry for the long wait, and sorry for the weak length of this
     chapter. I'm on vacation so it's kinda hard to post.
     Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts :)
     (I'm so happy with this character development tbh)
Dean enters the cell cautiously, hoping not to upset Castiel even more. He sees
a lump under the blanket of the top bunk, and hesitates.
“Cas?” he asks softly.
The lump rolls and Cas pops out from under the blanket. His brilliant azure
eyes are red-rimmed and watery, his pallor face and pink nose indicating to
Dean that he’s been crying. He’ll admit: he’s surprised. He’d never expect Cas
to be a crier. Dean cries sometimes, a lot less in the recent weeks with Cas,
but Castiel is usually so poised.
“Hey Newbie,” he says quickly, wiping under his eyes and blinking rapidly, “I’m
sorry for yelling at you.”
“It’s fine,” Dean assures him, climbing halfway up the ladder to the top bunk,
“Talk to me Cas, what’s wrong?”
“I really can’t.”
“Cas,” Dean insists, “You can trust me. Who am I going to tell anyway?”
“It’s not just that,” Cas shudders, sniffling both from his cold and his tears,
“I don’t even think I can say the words.”
Dean climbs up on the bunk and sits cross-legged, facing him, “C’mon Cas. I
love you.”
Cas chuckles weakly, scratching his neck, “I love you too.” he admits, “that’s
why I don’t want to tell you things.”
“That’s why you need to tell me things,” Dean urges, and places his hand
comfortingly on Cas’ knee. Cas flinches away from the tender gesture, a tremble
shooting up his body visibly. Dean tucks his hand against his chest, shocked by
his reaction.
“Why do you always do that?” he demands.
“Do what?”
“Don’t play dumb, you never let me touch you.”
Cas grimaces at Dean’s phrasing, and says, “It’s not about you Dean.”
“It’s not good to keep stuff bottled up,” Dean chides, “believe me, I’d know.
What’s bothering you tonight?”
“I saw my dad today.”
“Yes. You two obviously don’t get along.”
Cas shudders again, licking his lips and managing, “Understatement Dean. We
once were very...close.”
Dean’s brows turn down curiously, “So what happened? You two drifted apart or
something?”
“That’s not exactly what I meant by close….”
Cas is silent for a moment, giving Dean time to process this. Dean’s frown
deepens as he tries to understand what Cas means.
Realization hits him in the face like a brick, “Oh are you saying that he...did
stuff to you?”
Cas closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath through his nostrils, lips
pressing together in a tight line. He pops one eye open after a second, like
he’s surprised that Dean is still there.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean whispers roughly, “I’m not leaving.”
This seems significant to Castiel. He lets out a trembling breath and roughly
responds, “If I didn’t comply he would...hurt me.”
“That scar on your belly,” Dean murmurs, “He...he did it?”
“Most of the injuries healed easily, but...that was a bad day. He lit a
candle...and he burned me. I remember screaming,” Cas swallows hard, biting the
inside of his cheek before continuing, “I rememb er screaming so loud I thought
my lungs would burst. It hurt like nothing else had ever hurt. I'd broken an
arm, I'd gotten my tonsels out, hell I'd been hit with a baseball bat. But
nothing felt that way. He didn’t stop though…” Cas reaches down to the hem of
his pajama shirt and pushes it up, revealing the gruesome scar, “I was just a
kid...I was maybe nine?”
Dean leans forward and runs two tentative fingers down the length of the scar.
Cas shudders, his tough skin shaking beneath Dean’s hand. Dean moves a little
closer, pressing soft kisses on Cas’ marred flesh, cool breath washing over
Castiel’s sweaty stomach. A noise that sounds somewhat like a whimper echoes
from Cas’ throat, and Dean lifts his lips to Castiel’s face.
Cas grabs Dean around the waist and tucks him tight against him, “You’re still
here.” he whispers, as if confirming it.
“Right here Cas,” Dean replies, interlacing his fingers with Castiel’s, “I love
you.”
“You don’t know how much it means,” Cas manages, “that you’re still…”
“I love you. Keep going Cas. I’m listening.”
“Nobody ever found out, what he was doing to me.” Cas continues, biting down
hard on his lower lip and shaking his head, “I was alone..I was so alone. I’d
go to school, not talk to anyone, come home..and he’d be waiting. My brothers
were older...they weren’t around much, and my mom was constantly working. He’d
tell me it’s what God wanted, that I was doing him a favor. He said he loved me
but…” Cas’ lips tremble and his eyes are watery, “that isn’t love Newbie.”
“No it’s not,” Dean agrees softly, tightening his grip on Cas’ hand, “That
ain’t love Cas.”
“This is love,” Cas murmurs, looking down at his and Dean’s hands, “me being
able to...to tell you this stuff. That’s love, right Dean? Is it love?”
“I don’t know what love is Cas,” Dean admits, “but...I think it’s something
special that you and I have. I think this...right now, whether it’s love or
not, is important.”
“I love you,” Cas says surely, “I know that much.”
“I love you too.”
“So...when I was twelve my mom passed away. She committed suicide after she
found out what my dad was doing to me. I don’t think it was his fault really,
she always had shit going on. At work all day listening to other people’s
issues..had to weigh on her. I don’t think she realized that when she
died...she left me even more alone with him.” he rubs at his eyes sloppily and
continues, “it got worse. I was getting older, my body was becoming
more...sexy. I was only thirteen but, fuck Dean, that was grown up to him. I
couldn’t...I couldn’t do it anymore. My brother gabriel, he found out that my
dad had been stealing money from our church. I knew it was perfect...I could
get away from my dad. So, I turned myself in for the crime. Said I did it to
help with my family’s money problems. My dad played the part, acting
disappointed and saying he’d pray for my forgiveness. Everything went
perfectly.”
Dean grimaces; the thought of Castiel suffering through all of this, especially
at such a young age is mortifying. He can now see why Cas is so fucked up, he
understands the motives behind Cas’ behavior.
“Castiel that’s fucking awful,” Dean says in horror, “we- I can’t...how are you
going to let him get away with this?”
“I have no choice,” Cas says softly, “I’m already here. No one will believe me
now.”
Dean bites his lip, “My mom knows a lawyer. A good one, what if I-”
“No!” Cas’ grip on him tightens and his eyes widen seriously, “You can’t do
that, please! Promise me- promise me you won’t do anything?”
“But why?” Dean demands, “why don’t you want anyone to know what he did?”
“Because!” Cas groans, “Just-just listen to me. Okay? No one can know...just
don’t tell anyone. I fucking trusted you with this Newbie, don’t turn around
and fuck me over. Please.”
“Okay okay,” Dean says so he’ll stop freaking out, “I won’t do anything.”
Cas relaxes a little, sighing gently, “Alright, okay. Yeah...okay.”
Dean rubs his thumb along Cas’ hand, which is clutching his with an iron grip,
“Are you okay?”
Cas nods wearily, “Can’t believe I just told you all that.” he manages with a
nervous laugh.
Dean smiles slightly, “Me either, but I’m glad you did. Love you Cas.”
Cas pulls Dean a little closer so their bodies are just as tight as their
hands, “I love you too. More than you know.”
Dean cuddles up closer to his...christ, his boyfriend, and allows himself to be
soothed into sleep.
-
Cas wakes up comfortable.
It had taken him a while to fall asleep, despite the warm comfort of Dean’s
nimble body beside him. He’d been processing things; had he actually spilled
his guts to Dean? Why hadn’t Dean totally bailed? Did Dean mean it when he said
he wouldn’t do anything? Did Dean really still love him? Eventually his brain
had gotten too exhausted with these thoughts, and he’d conked out.
The sleep, however restless, was uneventful. No nightmares. No images of his
family, no horrors of his past, not even a self-deprecating string of thoughts
before he finally went under. Just Dean, and sleep. Something Cas could get
used to. When the guards begin to shout for the inmates to awaken, Cas is
hardly even tired. He blinks sleep away and looks down at Dean’s freckled face.
His dark lashes brush the freckles as he slowly begins to open his viridescent
eyes. His pink, plump lips curl up in a little smile as he glances at Cas.
“Morning sleepyhead,” Dean greets him, “you were out like a light. Not even
snoring.”
Cas arches an eyebrow,” Me? Not snoring? I really must’ve been out.”
“I like it when you snore,” Dean admits, “puts me to sleep. It’s relaxing.”
“Oh yeah?” Cas asks, ignoring his disbelief that Dean could like anything about
him.
Dean nods, putting his palm over Cas’ heart, “I put my head right here, I can
hear your heartbeat and your chest rumbling under me. It’s relaxing. Kinda like
how people listen to nature sounds when they go to sleep. Your body is my
nature sounds.” Cas chuckles deep in his throat and Dean smiles, patting his
chest, “there it is, that rumble. You’re a brick house.”
Cas laughs loudly this time, “That makes no sense.”
“Hush,” Dean says, moving his other hand up to stroke the prickly stubble on
Cas’ jaw, “This I like too. Very nice.”
A grin makes it’s way across Castiel’s face, and he tsks, “What don’t you
like?”
He’d meant it as a joke, but as soon as he says it he’s worried about Dean’s
response. 
Everything Cas. How could he like things about you?
“Nothing,” Dean answers, “I like it all.”
He plants a chaste kiss on Cas’ forehead, “I like these eyes. These beautiful
blue eyes.”
“Stop,” Cas insists, face burning.
Dean giggles, “And your lips.” he kisses Cas once and sighs, “perfect. Not to
mention, those teeth. How on Earth you keep them in such good condition while
in prison, is beyond me. So straight too, you ever have braces?”
“No,” Cas replies, cheeks still hot with embarrassment from Dean’s praise.
“Let’s talk about your body,” Dean marvels, eyes twinkling, “you make me look
like the ugly girl at the prom, god.”
“No,” Cas repeats, leaning in to kiss Dean slowly, “you’re gorgeous.”
Dean chuckles, “Oh yeah? Why don’t we stay in the cell today? You can prove
it.”
Cas grins, and as he leans in to stroke his hand up Dean’s thigh, his father’s
voice doesn’t invade his thoughts. As he slowly takes Dean in his arms, and
rocks their bodies together gently, he hears nothing except the broken moans
and pants coming from Dean. His own thoughts don’t sweep over him as he enters
Dean, grunting and gasping with pleasure. His head, for once in his fucking
life, is empty of anything except honest joy. Each breath he takes expels
anxiety and nervousness, being replaced with ecstasy and euphoria. He doesn’t
feel guilty either, about enjoying it. He deserves this. He deserves Dean. Dean
makes him feel so worthwhile. Even if it’s short-lived, Castiel’s time with
Dean is the best he’s ever had.
How the Hell is he going to leave him?
***** Mouth Vs. Mind *****
Chapter Notes
     Ah! Sorry for the wait, I was on vacation :) Promise to get the
     updates back on track
     WARNING: homophobia/blood mention/self hatred/mentions of sexual and
     physical abuse/ general mature content
     Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3
“Hey, smear the queer!”
Dean’s lungs burn as he sprints away from the screams. His legs feel like
rubber, but he pursues the sidewalk ahead of him, trying to escape the pack of
guys behind him. Fucking James, big-mouthed jackass. He’d had to tell his
friend about the kiss with Dean, who in turn told his friend, and news travels
pretty fucking fast in middle school. His sneaker catches on the curb as he
crosses the street, sending him sailing forward. His face smashes into the
ground and he feels a spurt of blood tint his face red. Scrambling to his feet
frantically, his head whirs and Dean struggles to get his bearings. Before he
can rush forward, someone grabs his upper arm. His head whips sideways, and he
stares in shock.
“Hey Newbie.”
This is not what happened. This is wrong.
“Cas? What are you doing here?”
Cas looks so beautiful; he’s dressed neatly in a pair of black pleated pants
and a tight-fitting white button down. His brilliant azure eyes are glimmering
with the golden rays of sun that shine through the trees. His cross glitters
brightly around his tanned neck, and his smile is so genuine and handsome that
Dean’s knees feel weak.
“Just got out of juvie,” Cas says proudly, although he looks more like a
college-graduate than a teenage delinquent, “my dad was prosecuted, he’s in
jail. I’m free.” A little laugh slips out of his perfectly molded lips, and the
air around his usually stormy expression is light and happy and everything Dean
wishes upon Castiel.
Dean wipes the blood away from his chin and manages a smile, “Cas...that’s
awesome!”
He’s still confused as to what Cas is doing here, since if he remembers
correctly, those guys caught up to him and beat the snot out of him a little
less severely than Alastair had, but he decides not to question it. Cas hadn’t
been there to defend him before, maybe he can be now. “
I guess that’s why I’m here,” Cas explains, gesturing around, “in your dreams,
or memories. Just popped in to tell you something.”
“Yeah Cas what is it?”
“I never really loved you,” he tells Dean, smiling as though he’d just told a
joke, “I was just using you to get myself out. Because I didn’t commit a crime,
but you did. You’re the criminal here, ha, not me. But you and your mommy got
me that excellent lawyer, and here I am, free while you’re still locked up and
all alone.”
Dean stares, dumbfounded and wordless, so Cas continues, “Nothing to say?”
His demeanor changes considerably, switching from lighthearted to belligerent
in an instant, “what? You thought I could ever really love you? That’s funny
Dean, because you’re nothing. Just a dirty little pickpocket, not really worthy
of my time, you know? It’s kinda sad that you came out because of me, cause now
you’re out forever. No take backs buddy.”
“No…” Dean shakes his head frantically, “No...I trust you. You love me. I love
you.”
“Dean, please, I’ve known you for a month. I don’t love you. And you don’t know
what love is you idiot, how could anyone ever love you?”
“I…” Dean’s head is whirling, his thoughts intangible tornadoes trying to
escape, “Cas…?”
“I’m not even really into dudes,” Cas says, picking at his perfect teeth
absently, “I mean, my dad fucked with me for years, why would I like guys after
that? Especially you, I mean you’re cute, but you could stand to gain some
weight, you know? Or some muscle, god you’re like a friggen twig. Every time we
hugged I thought I’d break you. That’d suck, without you I’d still be locked
up.”
“How can you say that?” Dean’s voice breaks on the last word, and although he
intends to stand strong, his entire body is quivering, “you..how could
you...but we-”
“Look Dean, I’d love to continue this little chat, but I have a life to live,
and it appears I’ve interrupted something.” Cas steps back and snaps his
fingers. Dean’s head snaps sideways as he sees the pack of boys chasing him,
they near closer, and Cas says, “enjoy this Dean, believe it or not, this is
your last taste of freedom.”
“Dean, fuck, Dean!”
Something sharp zings across Dean’s face, and he jerks upwards, gasping and
wheezing. His watery eyes blur the sights around him, but he briefly observes
Castiel sitting upright at his side, a panicked expression on his face. Dean
touches a hand to his stinging cheek and says in the stupidest, weakest voice
possible, “Did you slap me?”
“You wouldn’t wake up,” Cas swallows hard, eyes wide and more innocent than
Dean’s ever seen, “I thought- I don’t know what I thought. I was afraid the
asbestos in this place had killed you or something, I don’t know! You were
barely breathing- you scared the shit out of me.”
Dean inhales deeply as reality settles around his shoulders. He touches his
face; injury free. He reaches out in the dim light and grabs at Castiel’s hand,
which wraps around his with intense ferocity.
“Dean?”
“Sorry.” Dean whispers quietly, “I-” he looks down, unable to even look Cas in
the eye after the dream, “nightmare.”
“God, what is it with us?” Cas murmurs good-naturedly, “we get those a lot.
Guess that happens when you’re fucked up.”
Dean squeezes his eyes shut as the tears he’d tried to quell slip out and roll
down his hot cheeks. He prays that Cas can’t see them in the dark, but when has
praying ever helped Dean?
“Whoa, Newbie.” Cas’ thumb brushes across Dean’s cheek to clear away some of
the moisture, “you’re crying.” he says stupidly, “what was that dream about?”
Dean shakes his head, and can’t help the small, wet sob that claws it’s way out
of his throat. Cas takes a deep breath and says, “Dean... please talk to me.”
Cas has been very serious about Dean talking to him since last Saturday when he
spilled the beans about his father. It’s Friday night, and he’s still
relentless about Dean returning the favor. Cas insists on an open relationship,
no secrets, no hiding. So far, Dean’s been pretty compliant. He’s talked about
his parents shitty marriage, his dad’s more douchey qualities, even the intense
shower experience he’d had with Ricky. But some things, he just can’t spit out.
“Just...a scary dream.” he says truthfully, scrubbing at his eyes, “Do you love
me Cas?”
Cas’ stares at Dean with an unsure expression, “Why are you asking me that?”
“Just fucking answer me Cas.”
“Of course I love you Dean. What is this about?”
Dean hooks his arms around Castiel’s neck and pulls their bodies against one
another. Cas’ cool breath washes over Dean’s sweat-slicked bare back, which
feels so incredibly good that Dean leans in even closer. Their bare chests
press together, and Dean can feel the small indentation of Castiel’s scar
against his flesh. It makes him want to keep crying, but he sniffles once and
pulls it together for both of their sakes.
“Are you okay?” Cas asks quietly, eyeing Dean like he might explode any second.
Dean nods, “Y-yeah...I think I just need more sleep.”
“Are you sure?”
Dean smiles a little at the concern, flattered, “Yeah Cas, thank you.”
“I love you Dean.” Cas responds seriously, as if reaffirming it for himself.
“Love you too Cas.”
Cas nods a few times, then pulls Dean into proper spooning position. He nestles
his pin-straight nose in the crook of Dean’s neck and murmurs, “You always
smell so excellent.”
Dean lets out a breathless, miniscule chuckle, “Thanks.”
“You’ll feel better when you see your mom tomorrow,” Cas assures him quietly,
“she’ll know how to cheer you up.”
Yeah, Dean thinks, after I tell her to hire a lawyer for you and ruin our
relationship.
“Yeah,” Dean says softly, “I’ll feel much better.”
-
Dean dreads waking up the next morning. But the prospect of seeing his mother’s
familiar face is too fucking inviting to ignore. Slowly, he and Cas untangle
themselves and climb out of bed, yawning and stretching like alley cats. They
take their time getting ready, Dean taking extra care to thoroughly wash his
face and hands after showering. Cas stares at him funny while he does so, but
Dean waves off his concern by saying, “I am not getting sick again.”
Finally, the two of them are dressed in their usual attire -being a plain beige
jumpsuit- and they head down to the visitation room. Dean’s hesitant, and they
stand awkwardly outside the door.
“Newbie look at me,” Cas says, grabbing Dean’s arm roughly, so they’re facing
each other, “Something is wrong with you.”
“I’m fine.” Dean insists, finding it incredibly hard to lie to Castiel’s
earnest face, “Really. I’ll be fine. I am fine. I- ugh, I love you.”
Cas quirks an eyebrow up quizzically, “Are you sick? What’s the disease that
makes you go nuts?”
“Um...dementia?”
Cas palms Dean’s forehead contemplatively, “Newbie are you dimentia-d?”
Dean snorts and bats Cas’ hand away, “no Cas, I’m fine. Look, I’ll meet you
back at the rec room in a little while?”
“Alright, have a good visit Dean.”
“I love you.”
“And I love you.”
They lean in for a swift kiss, and part ways. Dean enters the visitation room
and sucks in a desperately needed gulp of air, before spotting his mom across
the room. She’s lovely as usual; golden curls piled high on her head,
effortlessly gleaming smile plastered on sincerely, loving gleam in her eyes
that makes Dean want to tell all his secrets. He steps forward and before he
knows it, he’s sitting across from her, “Mom.”
“Hey honey,” She leans across the table, smiling sweetly, “How are you?”
Dean can’t help but smile at his mother’s constant ability to make him feel
safe and comfortable, “Missing Sammy,” he admits quietly, “I wish...I wish you
could bring him.”
She sighs and takes Dean’s hand with a gentle squeeze, “I’m sorry baby, I wish
I could bring him too. I’m going to try...Christmas is only two weeks away, I’m
sure your father and Sammy will be here to see you then.”
Dean nods, although he’s fairly certain she’s full of it, “Thanks Mom.”
“Of course doll, now, enough of this. Tell me about your week, how are things
with Castiel?”
Dean’s cheeks color pink, he really should stop mentioning Cas so much around
her, “Fine mom, we’re...really good friends.”
“Mhm,” she grins knowingly, “Great friends I bet.”
“Mom!” She laughs and puts her hands up defensively, “okay okay, I’m sorry.
You’re friends. So things are good?”
Dean takes a deep breath, this is it. He’s got to tell his mom everything Cas
said to him. He needs to get justice for his innocent...boyfriend. Castiel’s
disgusting fucking father needs to be locked away. But...that means Dean will
lose Cas. Cas will either hate him for telling the secret, or he won’t mind and
he’ll be released anyway. Dean knows he won’t survive here without Castiel, and
either way he’s going to lose him in a few months, but still…
Dean smiles through the mortification that courses through his body. He’s
horrified with himself, with his selfish inability to help Cas. How dare he?
How dare he stake a claim on Castiel’s fate just because he loves him? Castiel
is innocent, and excellent and wonderful and he needs to be anywhere else but
here. Dean needs to tell her, Cas needs to be free. Cas deserves better than
this, better than Dean. Cas deserves the fucking world.
"But you and your mommy got me that excellent lawyer, and here I am, free while
you’re still locked up and all alone."
He opens his mouth to tell his mother everything, but all that comes out is,
“Everything is great Mom. Things are going fine.”
“Oh I’m so glad honey,” she replies sincerely, “you deserve a little
happiness.”
No, Dean thinks, oh no I don’t.
“Yeah,” he smiles, “I guess Cas is my happiness.”
“Aw, how sweet. Maybe when you two both get out you can keep seeing each other.
Gosh that’d be romantic don't you think?”
What he means to say is, never would that happen in a million years, because
Cas is getting shipped off to jail in a few months and I’m going to be stuck
here alone and I’ll fucking die without him.
What he actually says is, “Maybe Mom, maybe someday.”
***** And a Happy New Year *****
Chapter Notes
     So sorry for the wait! You would not believe how busy I've been!
     WARNINGS: NSFW, general mature content
     Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts :)
     (Also this chapter makes me feel like I should point out, I'm not
     trying to like perpetuate my religious beliefs through Castiel lol.
     I'm an atheist, and everyone should respect everyone and be able to
     talk about religion without it becoming offensive.)
Christmas rolls around quickly at Kripke Juvenile Detention Hall. Boys all over
begin walking around in tacky Santa hats and cheap decorations are put up all
over the buildings. They’re even allowed to put up a giant tree in the middle
of the rec hall, which happens two nights before Christmas. Dean is
disappointed that he didn’t get to see Sammy or his dad at his mother’s last
visit, but it’ll be Christmas in a few days, so he can deal with that sadness.
Besides, Cas seriously loves Christmas, and it’s putting him in the best mood
ever. Gotta love dating a religious kid.
“Ugh,” Cas complains, plucking out a cheap ornament and placing it dejectedly
on the tree, “this is pathetic, they have no respect for Christmas.”
Dean chuckles, hugging Cas from behind and leaning down to kiss his cheek,
pleased that the older boy has become more comfortable being touched lately,
“it’s just a holiday Cas, settle down.”
“It is Jesus’ birthday!” Cas retorts.
“Cas is gay for Jesus,” Jo snorts, as she lazily tosses a piece of tinsel on
the tree.
“I am very gay for Jesus,” Cas grumbles, “and this place has no appreciation
for his birthday.”
“At least they’re celebrating your holiday,” Benny mutters, “I don’t see any
Menorahs around here.”
“Christian supremacy is fascinating,” Kevin comments from where he’s sitting
behind Jo playing with a lock of her gold hair.
“Oh shut up,” Cas rolls his eyes, “I don’t care if you make good points, just,
shh.”
“What do you want for Christmas?” Benny asks as he sits down beside Kevin and
Jo, who’ve basically given up decorating and let Cas take the reigns.
Jo hums thoughtfully, “Well, it’s my last week here, so I wouldn’t say I want
to get out of here for Christmas. I guess I’d take some hair extensions.”
“They’d look very pretty,” Kevin compliments, and then says, “I think I’d like
one of those fancy scientific calculators, couldn’t afford those where I come
from. They’re awesome though.”
Dean laughs, “Great Kevin, the most interesting gift on Earth.”
“Well what do you want Dean?”
Dean pauses, pondering this. What he’d really like is to be thirty years old,
out of juvie, married to Cas with a whole household of little screaming brats
around them. But of course, he’d never say that out loud. “I dunno, a trip to
Europe or something. It’s way cooler there.”
“Gay marriage is legal,” Cas comments, “and the health care is...much more
fulfilling. I could see liking it there.”
“Maybe you guys will take a trip there someday,” Jo suggests, “maybe a
honeymoon.”
“You’re gonna be real embarrassed about these jokes when they come true,” Cas
warns, flicking a piece of tinsel at her, “now get up and help me put these
ornaments on. The Lord is watching you slack off.”
-
Dinner on Christmas Eve is disappointing, to say the least. It’s Dean’s first
Christmas without his family, and it’s harder than he’d like to admit. He
misses his mom’s turkey, and Sammy’s cookies and hell, even his Dad’s
ceremonial toast. Dean was supposed to get his first glass of wine with the
toast this year, since he’s sixteen now and his father deems that old enough
for his first drink, but c'est la vie.
Cas makes the night slightly better. Dean thinks it’s amusing how into this
holiday he is, although he also finds it a little sad. Had Dean been through
the things Cas has, he doesn’t think he’d be able to keep his faith. After all,
why would God let all that bad shit happen to Castiel? Cas is a good person,
Cas has suffered so much and garnered so little, how the hell does he still
think God loves him? Dean’s not really sure of his position on the whole
religion thing. He’s not a religious person, never has been, and he can’t
really say whether or not he believes in God. That’s never mattered to him, he
tries not to think about it because the more he does, the more confused he
gets. But either way, he’s still very confused on Castiel’s rock-solid faith.
“Don’t think too hard over there Dean,” Kevin says lightly from across the
table, “look’s like your head is about to pop off your shoulders.”
Dean shakes his head to clear it, and Cas frowns, “You okay Newbie?”
Face feeling hot from his scrutiny of Castiel’s faith, Dean nods a few times,
“Yeah sorry...just thinking.”
“What about?”
Dean shrugs, “You.”
Cas grins at this, but Benny makes a gagging sound, “can’t catch a break with
you two.”
-
Later that night, as Cas and Dean climb into bed and Cas ropes his arms around
Dean’s slender waist, he can’t help the words as they come out. “Cas how come
you’re so religious?”
The question seems to strike Cas as odd, and his brows furrow in confusion. He
stares down at Dean for a moment, and then murmurs, “What kind of question is
that?”
“Would you just answer me Cas?”
“My dad’s a pastor,” he says matter-of-factly, “So I grew up around religion
and stuff. And...well, Dean, to be quite frank, I just am. I just know that God
is watching over me, and that he loves me...no matter what I do, he loves me
unconditionally.”
Dean turns on his side so he and Cas are facing eachother, noses brushing at
the tip, “Yeah but...how do you know? How do you keep your faith after all
you’ve been through? How do you know he loves you?”
Cas cards his fingers through Dean’s hair, pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips
quickly, “He shows me that he loves me.”
“How Cas?”
“By giving me people like you,” he whispers, his three dimensional azure gaze
boring into Dean’s, “people like you and Jo...people who remind me why I want
to be alive. He lets me know that in my little fucked up world, there’s some
good.”
Dean swallows hard, dragging his tongue across his lower lip, “I guess that
makes sense. I’m sorry that I don’t have faith Cas.”
“That’s okay Dean,” he promises, a little smile growing on his lips, “you don’t
have to see things my way for me to love you.”
“I love you too,” Dean leans down and interlaces his fingers with Castiel’s, “I
love you so much Cas.”
Cas hums quietly and places his lips carefully against Dean’s. Eagerly, Dean
returns the favor deepening the kiss and moaning against Cas’ lips. Cas’ hands
slowly brush down Dean’s bare chest, finding their way into the waistband of
his underwear. “I love you,” he whispers against Dean’s mouth as he begins to
shimmy the underwear down Dean’s legs. Dean’s breath quickens and his eyes
drift shut as Castiel’s slick fingers slide into his opening. Castiel’s fingers
are smooth and rough at the same time, beating against Dean’s tight walls as he
moans out slowly, tugging helplessly at Cas’ hair.
“Love you so much baby…” Cas murmurs, repositioning so he’s straddling Dean’s
waist, removing his own boxers to reveal his gradually growing erection, “love
everything about you. These freckles on your thighs,” to punctuate his point,
Castiel leans down and presses feather-light kisses against the splatter of
freckles on Dean’s inner thighs. Dean gasps a little at the feeling of Cas’
mouth against his sensitive flesh, combined with the rhythmic pumping of his
fingers in Dean’s ass.
“Oh god Cas…” he manages, “love you too.”
“Mmmm,” Cas says softly into Dean’s flesh, “so happy you’re mine…”
Dean barely notices when Cas lubricates both his dick and Dean’s opening with
vaseline -something they’ve both been buying a lot of recently.- He only takes
notice when Cas’ slick cock slides into his hole, stretching him around Cas’
width. “That feel good baby?”
“So good Cas...love you so much…” Dean’s fingers rake down Cas’ back as his
cock jerks up and pressses right into Dean’s prostate. His breath catches and
he can hear Cas’ hitched pants in his ear, a low string of moans echoing from
the older boy’s throat. Cas keeps moving, hips rolling fluidly as he makes love
to Dean. Yes, they’re making love. They’re not fucking, they’re not having sex,
they’re making love.
Dean knows it’s cliche and cheesy as fuck, but it’s also beautiful. It feels so
much better than a cheap fuck does, it feels whole and right and tender and
everything he’s missing. Dean whimpers as Cas’ strokes become a little more
sloppy, both boys nearing their climax. The cross around Castiel’s damp,
straining chest glints in the dim light of the bedside lamp. For some reason,
Dean’s eyes settle on the necklace, and he can’t look away. He grabs Cas’ hand
as one final pump inside of him brings him to his finish. Cas eyes settle on
Dean’s face as he follows suit, and they ride out the orgasm together. Dean
never used to make eye contact with people during sex, it was awkward and
uncomfortable. Now, when he and Cas gaze at each other while Castiel is inside
him, Dean finds it fulfilling. It reminds him how much he and Cas love one
another, it makes the sex that much better. It makes the sex that much
more...meaningful.
“Merry Christmas Dean,” Cas breathes as he slowly pulls out and kisses Dean
softly, “you’re the best thing I could ever ask for.”
-
“Newbie! Get up! It’s Christmas!”
Dean grumbles tiredly, yawning and stretching as he sits up in bed. Cas is
already dressed in his jumpsuit, hair combed underneath a tacky santa hat. “I
got one for you too,” he grins, holding up another hat, “you can be Mrs.
Claus.”
“I hate you,” Dean laughs as he rolls sideways and plops down on his feet,
leaning down to kiss Cas warmly, “but you’re the cutest.”
“Hurry up and get dressed dork, we’ve got another snowball fight planned!”
Dean grins as he dresses and pulls the stupid hat on over his ears. Cas loops
an arm around his waist and they make their way down the winding halls towards
the snow-ridden, outdoor pavillion. They step outside only to be immediately
barraged with snowballs. Jo and Kevin have joined forces, attacking both
innocent boys as soon as they walk out. Alastair and Benny are back to back,
working together and hitting people. Dean’s a little surprised to see them
being teammates, but he’s not complaining about everyone getting along so well.
“Don’t worry Mrs. Claus!” Cas cries as he grabs Dean by the waist and throws
him over his shoulder, “I’ll protect you!”
“Cas! Put me down!” Dean exclaims, but he’s laughing all the while. Cas carries
him across the pavillion and they once again duck behind their table, where
they’d had their first actual kiss.
As Dean runs his eyes over Castiel's cold red nose and the flakes of ice in his
dark hair, he decides this is his best Christmas in a long time.
***** The Beginning of the End *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNINGS: mentions of sexual/physical abuse. Mental health. Graphic
     violence, mentions of death. General mature content. Please read with
     discretion.
     Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! Finally, getting into the
     good stuff! <3
Castiel has always found something satisfying about endings. He’d let his
breath out after a movie’s credits began to roll by. He’d smile with pleasure
when he turned the page and finished a book. He’d cheer when the school year
ended. Jo’s last day at
Kripke Juvenile Detention Hall, is supposed to be today. But naturally, as all
things in Cas’ life, it doesn’t work out.
“Jo?” Dean inquires as they step into the rec room, “what the hell are you
still doing here? You’re supposed to be home.” She fidgets uncomfortably with
her ugly jumpsuit, and Cas can see Kevin’s jaw clench.
“Jo?” Cas demands, “what happened?”
“She got herself sent to solitary for fighting right in front of the warden!”
Kevin snaps angrily, “spent two hours there this morning and they’re extending
her sentence three months!”
“Jo what the fuck?” Cas exclaims, “No! You’re supposed to get out! Why the Hell
would do do this?”
“It’s not my fault!” she hissed back, “he started it!”
“Who?” Cas snarls, feeling every stream in his body boil with the thought of
hitting the bastard who’d done this to her, “who was it?”
“Alastair,” she snarls, “we got into an argument, I can’t remember what it was
about. We just started fighting.”
“I’m going to kill him!”
“Cas, calm down.” he hears Dean’s voice behind me, small and nervous. He knows
how it much it freaks him out when he acts this way, but right now he doesn’t
fucking care. He’s going to kill Alastair. There’s no way that fucking meth
head is getting away with kicking the shit out of Dean and now ruining Jo’s
chances at getting out today. Cas whirls on his heel and scans the rec room for
him. He’s been wanting to do this since he saw the bruises on Dean’s face. He
spots Al leaning over a table playing cards. He’s laughing. The smug look on
his fucking face ignites a fury in Castiel’s body that he can’t control. He
stomps across the room, Dean, Kevin and Jo following closely behind.
“Fuckface!” he snarls, knocking the cards off the table with his fist. Al’s
eyes level with him as he rises to his feet. His chapped lips curl back over
yellow teeth, and there’s a murderous glint in his eyes.
Do it, his expression says, I dare you.
“No Cas!” Dean’s grabbing his upper arm, “he wants you to! Don’t get yourself
in trouble, please.”
The panic in his voice is extremely calming. Cas’ sucks in a deep breath,
swallows hard, and nods, “You’re right Newbie, he’s not worth it.”
He turns and offers Dean a weak smile, before Al’s voice says, “that’s right
Church Boy, listen to your pussy-whipping little bitch.”
The smirk is ripped from his face as Cas’ knuckles collide with it. He grunts
loudly, buckling sideways as his scrawny body topples over. He isn’t skinny in
the way Dean is; naturally slim, tender and smooth and beautiful. No, he’s
bones and dried flesh pulled over muscle. He hits the ground, and makes a grab
at Cas’ ankle, which is probably thicker than his neck. Cas kneels beside him
and hits him again. Rage is the only thing he can process, not Dean’s frantic
pleads for him to stop, not Al’s quickly bloodied face, not Jo insisting that
he better stop.
“Jo’s supposed to be fucking gone!” he screams as his fist collides with Al’s
nose again, and there’s a cracking sound. The skinny boy has slowly grown more
and more limp, his face stained with blood and saliva, “you fucking piece of
shit drug addict!”
“Kill me!” Al shrieks, grabbing Cas’ collar desperately, “just fucking kill me
Castiel!”
“Maybe I will!”
“No! No! Cas!” Dean’s tugging on his arms again, desperation and begging in his
voice. He sounds panicked and pathetic, “please Cas! Don’t they’re going to
take you away! Please please get off him!”
Cas grabs Al by the hair and slams his head against the floor. Every
frustration comes out in the jolting forward motion of his arms. His father’s
hands caress his body, and he smashes Al’s head down again. He gets arrested,
Al’s head hits the floor once more. He takes advantage of Dean, Al’s body stops
fighting the impact. The boy’s eyes quickly drift shut and he grunts, going
completely still. Cas isn’t even sure if he’s still breathing.
“Cas Cas please,” Dean’s crying now, honest-to-god crying, “Cas, baby get off
him!”
Slowly, Castiel rises to his shaking legs and squares his shoulders. His hands
are painted with Alastair’s blood and he’s probably got a ravaged, animalistic
glare plastered across his face.
“Why are you crying?” he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out as a growl, but
it’s much harsher than expected.
Dean quickly wipes at his eyes, “they’re going to take you away! You killed
him!”
“Dean, I already am away.”
He hasn’t noticed that everyone in the rec hall has turned to watch the
encounter. He briefly notices two inmates have locked out the guards, who are
angrily beating against the door trying to get in. Smart move.
“Besides,” he glances behind him at Al’s unmoving body, “he’s...he’s not dead.”
God won’t forgive you for this Castiel. You fucked up big time.
Shut up! He’s not dead.
Kevin kneels beside Al, pressing two fingers into his neck, “No pulse.”
“No!”
Cas isn’t sure who screams it, because just as they do the guards burst in,
overpowering the locks. Cas does notice the jolts of electricity running
through his side as the taser hits him.
“No!”
He collapses, gasping for air on his side. His hands are cuffed behind his back
and the electricity shoots through him in another spurt.
“No! No!”
Blackness envelopes his vision.
-
Cas groans, rolling on his side and gasping as he falls. His face smushes
against the cold concrete of a very familiar room. Solitary. He sighs and
climbs back on to the bed, grunting with effort as the sore feeling in his
right side resonates. They fucking tasered him, really? He knows how it works,
he’s been here before. This isn’t his first fight. He’ll just have to wait it
out...wait as long as he can.
-
Dean’s almost finished hyperventilating by the time he reaches Ms. Missouri’s
office. He knocks on the door once, twice, three times before she opens it
slightly.
“What do you want?”
“Please let me in.”
Sighing, she pulls the door open the rest of the way and allows his entrance.
He follows her back into the room where the cots are, and they sit down beside
each other on one.
“You’re a fool,” she says darkly, “Your boy killed my Alastair today.”
“Ms. Missouri you said it yourself, Al had gotten ahold of drugs again and was
acting out violently. Cas...it was self defense.”
“He should be in jail, no not jail, the nut house. He needs help. Yet you sit
here and hold his hand, you act like it’s possible to love a monster.”
“He’s not a monster, you don’t know him!”
“That little boy had a future,” she blinks away tears and clears her throat,
“Novak fucking took that from him.”
“He was doing drugs again anyway Ms. Missouri! He didn’t have a future! He was
going to die in jail or poverty like everyone else in here! But… Ms. Missouri,
I came to you for help.”
“Help?”
“I think you’re right...about him needing psychological help. He really isn’t…”
Dean taps his forehead, “all there. You’re a licensed therapist, you said so
yourself. He needs it. I thought I could help him but...love don’t heal
everything.”
“Not on your life Dean. I will not help that bastard, devil child.”
“Ms. Missouri you don’t know what he’s been through.”
“He killed a boy today!”
“And that boy was a drug-smuggling, abusive jackass!”
Missouri crosses her arms, scowling, “Tell me what you want from me Dean, what
am I supposed to do for him?”
Dean takes a deep breath, “Cas was abused and sexually molested by his dad as a
kid. I’ve seen the scars Ms. Missouri, he ain’t just whistlin Dixie. His father
stole money from their church and used it for personal benefit, and Cas took
the blame so he could escape him. That’s why he’s here. He-he needs to be
somewhere else. Not in juvie or jail, he doesn’t deserve that. He needs therapy
and-and those nice cozy rooms in-”
“You want me to send him to a mental institution?”
“No! I just want him to get what he deserves, for once.”
She bites her lower lip, seeming to warm up to the idea, “How are we supposed
to convince anyone that he’s not guilty? Especially after today?”
“My mom knows an excellent lawyer. I’m going to talk to her tonight on the
phone, tell her everything.”
“Okay, and what makes you think Novak will even talk to me?”
“You have to prove good intent. Tell him I told you everything...he’ll be
furious and betrayed, you gotta talk him through it. He’ll warm up when he
realizes you only want to help.”
Missouri hesitates, “This is an insanely stupid idea.”
“I know. But...I’m willing to try anything.”
She sighs, “I’ll go visit him in solitary. You call your Mama.”
“Thank you.”
"I’m not doing it for you Dean, I’m doing it for the innocent kid that’s
somewhere inside Novak.”
“Well, we all appreciate it.” -
 
The worst thing about solitary is having no conception of time. Has Cas been
having for minutes? Hours? Days? He has no idea. He’s not tired yet, which
could be adrenaline, or it could be that he’d been knocked out for a while
after getting tased. Either way, he isn’t sure how long he waits in silence
until he hears a voice, “Castiel Novak?”
Eagerly, he heads for the small opening in the solitary door, poking his head
through and staring in surprise, “Ms. Missouri?”
She gestures to him, and one of the guards pulls the door open. He’s handcuffed
again, confused and slightly scared as he’s led down a long corridor and into
one of the police interrogation rooms. Oh god.
She sits across from him, “Alastair is dead.”
Oh god.
“But, you’ll not be prosecuted since he was high on smuggled drugs and acting
unpredictably.”
Holy shit.
“That’s not why I’m here. Dean sent me.”
“Dean?”
She arches an eyebrow, “interested now?”
“Dean sent you?”
She nods, “He...he told me everything Castiel. About your father, about your
ill-accused imprisonment...everything.”
Cas feels like vomiting. His stomach churns and he swallows back bile as best
as he can. Betrayal courses through him like a bullet wound. Dean had told her.
He’d trust-
“Yeah yeah kid, you trusted him and all that jazz.” Missouri interrupts him as
if she can read his thoughts, “your hurt feelings aren’t what’s important. He
did it for your own good. His mom’s getting you a lawyer, and you’re getting
out.”
“I’m not going home. I can't go back there.”
“No, absolutely not. I’m going to take care of arrangements for you, don’t
worry about that. Look, I’m here to tell you a few things.”
Cas hesitates distrustfully, “Look, I appreciate the effort but you can’t get
me out. No one will ever believe you.”
“Dean’s family has a lot of money.”
Cas grimaces, “What did you need to say?”
“I’m going to help you. One hundred percent, good intentions. My only priority
is your health and safety, that’s my job and I never quit. But it has to be a
two-way street. You need to talk and talk a lot. If we’re going to win this you
need to be open and honest and try to fucking work this out. This isn’t on me
Castiel, your freedom depends on your willingness.”
Cas swallows hard, “Where do we start?”
***** The Void *****
Chapter Notes
     Here's the next chapter!
     WARNINGS: graphic descriptions of sexual/physical abuse, mentions of
     suicide, therapy sessions, self hatred, violence, mentions of death,
     seriously this gets pretty dark read carefully please.
     Pease enjoy and let me know your thoughts!
     (PS I'll admit this chapter made me tear up a little...good luck
     friends)
Talking about his mother does strange things to Castiel’s heart. He doesn’t
remember her too much; she was never around. He remembers that she was always
busy. Always on the run, always moving forward. He thinks that she was afraid
if she stopped, gravity would hit her and she’d be forced to swallow reality.
She didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to admit that deep down, she knew
there was something wrong between her husband and her youngest son. She didn’t
want to stop moving long enough to stare those problems in the face. In a way,
she reminds Cas of Dean. Stealing, running from his issues. Avoidance is
prominent in both of their personalities. Well, was prominent in hers. Before
she blew her brains out.
“Keep going,” Ms. Missouri encourages quietly, “tell me more about your
family.”
Cas takes a deep breath; in the past three days he’s grown quite trustworthy of
Ms. Missouri. There’s something so genuine in her wise old eyes that makes it
easy for him to bare his soul. She tells him the truth, no sugar-coating. He
appreciates that. He misses Dean. Although he’s told that Dean’s been in
contact with an excellent lawyer who will be meeting with Cas tomorrow, he
still doesn’t feel connected to him. He can’t wait to see him again. When Dean
gets out, he and Cas are going to be together. This is another thing talking
with Ms. Missouri has allowed him; hope. Maybe things can really change. Maybe
Cas can actually have a life.
But first, he’s got to wade through the grit, so he talks, “My brothers and mom
weren’t around much when my dad was…” his sentence trails off, and he stares at
her helplessly.
“Say it Castiel.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“When he was...molesting me.”
“Good.”
Cas nods, swallowing the bile in his throat. He can feel his father’s phantom
fingers wrap around his neck as he tells Missouri his story. “I can still feel
him choking me,” he whispers, “telling me if I ever told anyone then God would
stop loving me. That I was worthless already, and this was what I deserved.”
Missouri nods encouragingly, “Continue.”
“The first time it happened, I think I was just eight or nine.” he sighs
quietly and lifts his shirt to expose the gruesome scar that has grown and
changed with his body, that has become a part of him, “I pushed him away. I
screamed and fought so hard...god it felt so wrong.” he swallows hard, dropping
his shirt, “I knew it wasn’t normal, dad’s and sons didn’t...they didn’t do
that. Up until then, my father could do no wrong. He was a holy man, a prophet.
But when he...when he…”
“What did he do to you?”
“Ms. Missouri I-”
“You need to say it. You won’t get past it unless you can admit it.”
Cas lower lip trembles, “he touched my...touched my penis.” his teeth chatter
and his stomach churns, “he made me feel so fucking dirty. He made me
touch...he made me touch his. He told me that I was beautiful,” Cas’ entire
body is shaking now, his chapped lips moistening with saliva, “he told me I was
the prettiest little boy he’d ever seen. I didn’t want to be beautiful, I
wanted to be away from him. He - he made me-” Cas gags, flinching hard at the
memory and swallowing the bile in his throat helplessly.
“Say it Castiel.”
“Please-”
“Say it.”
“He made me cum,” Cas’ voice is somewhere between a whimper and a sob, “I was
nine. I was nine fucking years old.” snot runs out of his nose and his eyes
moisten with tears, “he made me feel so fucking filthy for...for liking it. I
didn’t like it! But my body disagreed and-” his words choke off with another
gag, and he gulps, “I was so confused and fucking horrified because his touch
made me orgasm.”
Missouri lifts her chin and hands Cas a tissue from the box on the table
between them. Embarrassed that he’s been reduced to a snotty mess, he blows his
nose and wipes his eyes, sniffing, “thanks.”
“Cas?”
“I’m broken,” his voice is a hitched, weak sob, “I’m ruined. I’m a mistake.”
“No Castiel. You are whole.”
“I’m fucking broken,” he’s sobbing even harder now, wiping desperately at his
face with tissues that do nothing to halt the wetness of his tears, “I’m
fucking destroyed, how could anyone love me? How can anyone look at me without
seeing.”
“Castiel!”
His head snaps towards her harsh tone, and she continues, “Do something for
me.”
“W-what?”
She leans down into her bag and rummages through it for a moment, pulling out a
small travel-sized mirror. She passes it across the table into Cas’ trembling
fingers, “Look into it.”
“No.”
“Look into it.”
“Why?”
“Do it Castiel.”
He sniffles again, and lifts the mirror. It takes a moment for the image to
focus since his hands are shaking so badly, but finally he’s staring back at
his reflection.
“Describe to me what you see.”
“Blue eyes, dark hair-”
“No. What you really see.”
Cas’ lower lip is trembling again, “Garbage. Useless. Good-for-nothing
ungrateful little bastard! I gave you everything! Let daddy touch you!”
In a fit of rage he flings the mirror across the room and watches it shatter
against the wall.
Missouri glances at the mirror, then back at him, seemingly unperturbed, “Who
was that? Who was that talking?”
“Him...”
She nods, “You’ve internalized it haven't you.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You’ve let your father’s words define your self worth.” she licks her lips,
“you’re molding your self-image around things your abuser said to you.”
“...no I’m not. I really feel that way-”
“No Castiel. You know and I know that you’re smarter than that. You’re just
afraid to show other people. You think they won’t see someone worthwhile in
that mirror, so neither do you. Your entire fucking personality revolves around
pleasing others, do you know that?”
Hands shaking once more, he whispers, “No.”
“Ever since you were a kid,” she murmurs, “you’ve pleased others. You pleased
your father. That’s all you were good for, pleasing him. Or so you say.”
His hands clench into fists, “I’m sorry for breaking your mirror.”
“Don’t be sorry. Anger is a step in the right direction. You need to learn not
to be submissive to your abuser. Be angry, be furious, be strong.”
“I’m not mad at him… I’m mad at myself.”
“Oh really? Did you abuse yourself?”
“No but-”
“Did you molest yourself?”
“Missouri-”
“Did you steal that money?”
“You know I didn’t-”
“The only thing you’re guilty of is letting your abuse define you. So tell me
Castiel, who are you really mad at?”
“...Him.” “Why are you mad at him?”
“Because he fucking ruined my life.”
“Keep going.”
“He...he stole my childhood! He stole my teenage years! He’s stolen
everything!” Cas is pretty sure he’s screaming right now, but all he can really
hear is the blood in his head, “he took my life and my family and my friends
and he killed me! He made me this! He made me this empty fucking shell! His
fingerprints are on my skin! I’ll never escape, he’s all over me!” he slams his
fist against the table with an unintelligible scream, ignoring the painful
split in his knuckles, “fucking bastard! Fucking monster!”
Missouri watches calmly, her dark brown eyes not moving from his face as she
patiently waits for him to finish up. Cas sucks in a few desperate pants, and
looks at her through his blurry eyes, “How dare he?”
She nods, “How dare he?”
His fists clench again, “I was a kid. I...I didn’t fucking deserve that.”
“You didn’t deserve that.”
“How could he do that?” his shoulders slump and his furious shouts are reduced
to a small, meek whisper, “how could my daddy do that to me?”
Missouri leans over and lays her hand across Cas’ now bleeding one, “He isn’t
your daddy Castiel. That is not love. That is not a father.”
Cas grabs her hand, surprisingly comforted by the smooth dark skin of her warm
fingers, “He’s not my daddy. He’s...he’s not my family.”
“He’s not your family.”
“He...he is nothing. He...he shouldn’t get away with this. What he’s done to
me.”
“He won’t.”
“He won’t! He’s going to get punished, right Ms. Missouri?”
“You tell me Castiel.”
He grips her hand just a little tighter, “He won’t. He's going to get
punished.”
-
Cas meets with the lawyer the next day. Ms. Missouri walks with him, an arm
soothingly around his shoulders. They’re meeting in the currently empty
visiting room, and apparently both the lawyer and Dean’s mother are going to be
there. He’s nervous, terrified really, but Ms. Missouri’s arm around him makes
breathing just a little easier.
“You ready for this baby?” she asks as they pause outside the door.
“Nope.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
They step into the room and shut the door behind them. The room is empty except
for two guards, Bobby and Henrikson. The table in the center is being occupied
by a serious-looking brunette, Dean’s mother and…
“Dean!” Cas breathes in surprise. He hadn’t expected Dean to be here.
Dean’s body jerks sideways and he practically sprints towards Castiel, throwing
his arms around the thicker boy, “Cas Cas!” he exclaims, as if he hadn’t
believed Cas would really be here.
Cas grips his face and kisses him hard, “I miss you.” he breathes against
Dean’s lips.
“I miss you more. Benny moved back in. Haven’t had the heart to tell him we
fucked on his bed.”
Cas manages a laugh, relieved none of the adults hadn’t heard that quip, and he
follows Dean and Missouri back to the table.
“Castiel,” Dean’s mother says softly, a slight smile on her face, “I’m Mary.”
He holds his hand out, and she shakes it gently, “It’s a privilege to meet the
woman who raised someone like Dean.”
Her cheeks blush pink, but she remains serious, “I am sorry we’re meeting under
these circumstances.” she glances at her son, “I’d prefer it to be in a
more...pleasant setting.”
“I just appreciate this, more than you know. Thank you for your help.”
“Of course.”
The brunette clears her throat, and speaks with a clear, English accent, “Hello
Castiel, my name is Bela Talbot. I’m going to be your attorney for the duration
of your case.”
“Hi,” he breathes, shaking her hand as well, “Thank you.”
“Well, let’s not beat around the bush.” she looks at Cas seriously, “my main
priority is getting your innocent little ass out of here so you can get the
help you deserve. As long as you fully disclose any relevant information, we
should be on the same page.”
“Absolutely.”
“Perfect. Now, tell me about discovering your father’s embezzlement.”
He takes a deep breath, “we’d just gotten a new TV. I heard my older brothers
discussing it in the other room. I was, I was thirteen. One day I stepped into
the living room unnoticed. They were talking about how my father had “stolen
the cash for this bad boy” so I looked into it. Didn’t take much, a glance into
the local newspaper told me that our church had been stolen from. I’m not
idiot, I put it together pretty fast. Not like my dad is the king of morality
anyway.” he breathes deeply again, “I just walked right into the police
station, put on my best sad face, and confessed. Said I felt too guilty for my
crimes, and they arrested me. There was no trial, I refused one since I was
afraid I’d get off and have to return to my father.”
Bela’s been writing down every word on a piece of notebook paper, and now she
looks up at him, “Have you any evidence that it’s your father who stole the
money and not you?”
“Two things. Mine and my brother’s testimony, should they decide to give one.
And, my dad’s credit card. If he still has the same one he had four years ago,
his bill should have the purchase of the TV on it. He always printed and saved
his credit card bills, even ones from before my birth. He keeps them all in the
bottom shelf in his closet. The bill has got to be in there, a TV bought in his
name with money transported from his suddenly swelling bank account.”
Bela nods eagerly, “That’s very good for us. I pulled some strings and got the
court to reopen your case. We have a week to prepare, gather evidence,
witnesses, testimonies, and all that. Next Monday, court will convene and we
will see where it goes.”
Cas swallows hard, feeling nauseas but ignoring it, “Okay.”
“Cas,” the otherwise quiet Dean speaks up, “you’re gonna have to...have to tell
them stuff. Courtroom full of strangers. You sure you can do that.”
Cas reaches across the table and interlaces his and Dean’s fingers, “I can do
whatever it takes. He won’t get away with this. Not on my life.”
Dean shudders at Cas’ choice of words, but nods anyway, “Good.”
“Next week then,” Bela enthuses, rising from her seat, “I will be back to
discuss things tomorrow after yours and Ms. Missouri’s session. Thank you for
your time.”
Mary kisses Dean’s forehead, hugs him tight and turns to Cas, “Welcome to the
family.” she murmurs, before doing just the same to him. Then, she follows Bela
out. Cas’ heart beats a few times, and then melts.
“She…” he mumbles, “is everything a mother should be.”
Dean grabs Castiel’s hand and kisses his cheek, “That she is Cas. That she is.”
***** Dead End Justice *****
Chapter Notes
     ok so I'm only 15 and I've never been to court but I'm taking all of
     my background information from my binge watching Boston Legal lmao.
     Sorry if it's not up-to-par with realism, just enjoy the fiction! <3
     (also I know the credit card stuff makes like no sense and isn't
     really true but for the sake of my sanity I made shit up. This is an
     AU, I am taking advantage of that lol)
     WARNINGS: descriptions of sexual/physical abuse, general mature
     content.
     Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! More to come soon!
“You look very handsome.”
Cas blushes, patting down the front of his shirt and mumbling, “Thanks Newbie,
you look pretty hot when you’re not in beige.”
Dean offers him a smile, but it’s anxious. They’re both dressed uncomfortably
in silk button-ups, dark gray slacks and toe-pinching loafers. Bela had even
added a tie and jacket to Cas’ ensemble, which he isn’t too thrilled about.
Today. The hearing is today. Cas is nervous. He and Bela have spent all week
preparing for this. She’d gotten in contact with his brothers to see if they’d
testify, two of them said no. But, surprisingly Gabriel had been completely
willing. He’d promised to dig through his father’s credit card bills and find
the one that belonged to the TV. Bela had pulled some strings and Dean was
being allowed furlough in order to be present during the hearing. Cas is
immensely grateful for this, Dean’s presence, even if it’s not by his side
constantly, will be soothing. Bela says she expects the trial to be fairly
quick, which he’s also grateful for.
“If we win this,” Cas tells him, “I’ll come visit you every Saturday until you
get out.”
Dean grins, cheeks dimpling with his genuine joy, “When we win this, I expect
to see you every goddamn weekend. And call too.”
“Absolutely.”
“You boys ready?” Ms. Missouri is standing outside their cell now, Bobby right
next to her.
Dean grabs Cas’ hand, grinning, “Yes.”
“Then lets go.”
Bobby releases them, and the four of them exit the cell, bustling down the
corridor. They pass the rec room on the way to the parking lot, and Jo pulls
them into a big group hug. She’s teary-eyed, but excited and hopeful. Benny
claps Cas on the back as if they’re old pals -which they certainly are not- and
Kevin gives him an encouraging speech about how pastor immorality is pretty
common. Crowley also shoots Cas an angry glare as they exit, which makes sense
seeing as Cas killed his buddy. They’re handcuffed and loaded into the back of
a big black police SUV, Ms. Missouri and Bobby sitting up front in passenger
and driver seats respectively. Dean gives Cas an apprehensive smile, which Cas
responds to by blowing him a kiss.
They quickly arrive outside the court building, and the four of them meet Mary
and Bela outside. Cas was only expecting those two, but behind them is a tall,
dark haired man with a scruffy face, and a short, scrawny kid who looks like a
non-freckled version of Dean. Sam and John, Cas guesses. The morning is brisk
and cool. There’s a slightly overcast gray color to the sky, which gives Cas an
eerie feeling. Bela had taken the liberty of getting him a big tan trench coat
to go over his suit, which he’s grateful for as he huddles into it. It’s nice
to be in something other than a prison jumpsuit yeah, but he feels like only
serial killers wear these coats. He’ll take it off before they face the jury,
murderer trenchcoat isn’t exactly good for the image.
“Good morning Castiel, Dean.” Bela greets them with her sharp, intelligent
smirk, “ready for this?”
Cas sighs, fidgeting with his handcuffed hands, “as ready as I’ll ever be. Did
the witnesses arrive?”
Bela nods encouragingly, listing them off on her fingers, “Store clerk who sold
your father the TV -boy was he hard to track down, but all too willing to
participate-, Gabriel with testimony and credit card bills at the ready, and a
surprise witness.”
Cas quirks an eyebrow up, “Who?”
“If I told, it’d no longer be a surprise. Don’t worry, you don’t know him, but
he’ll certainly help our case.” she glances up at Bobby, “And you offered to
testify as well?”
Cas turns to Bobby in surprise, “Mr. Singer?”
Bobby scratches his beard, shrugging, “Just gonna get up there and tell ‘em
what a good kid you are. The jury’s approval is important, and you’re not
exactly the best people person.”
Cas can’t decide between touched and offended, so he settles for touched,
“Thank you sir.”
“Don’t mention it kid. You deserve to get outta there.”
“Now Cas,” Bela says seriously, “we’ve got a good case going here, but I bet
your father’s one step ahead. I’ve spoken with his attorney, some douchebag
named Ruby. They’re calling several people from your hometown and your church
who are easily going to say your father is a great man.”
Cas grimaces, “I understand it won’t be easy. But...we’ve got to try.”
Dean nudges his shoulder and smiles, “I’m proud of you Cas.”
John clears his throat, and says, “Maybe we should all go inside.”
Bela nods in agreement, “My paralegal Charlie is waiting with the witnesses.
Cas, you me and Ms. Missouri will meet with them now. You already know that
she’s testifying for you, I’m sure. Everyone else, please find your way to the
courtroom and take your seats, we’ll convene in a few minutes.”
They begin to disperse. Dean and Cas manage an awkward, handcuffed hug -John
might actually have an aneurysm if they kiss- before they’re whisked away from
each other. Ms. Missouri walks with him, one hand comfortingly on his shoulder
as they attempt to keep up with Bela’s fast-paced strides. They have a few
brief minutes together in a room, where Bela gives him a short debriefing of
the court experience, and then they’re on the move again. They arrive in the
already-packed courtroom and quickly move to their seats.
Cas takes in his surroundings; twelve diverse adults are seated to the right
side of the room, talking quietly amongst themselves. A few of them continue to
chatter as he enters, seemingly sparked by his appearance. He notices Dean and
his family, sitting amongst the other people in the court. That’s encouraging
for a moment, until his eyes move left and he spots his father’s table. His dad
is sitting in his black overcoat and white collar, face unreadable, back stiff.
He sits beside a pale, muscled woman with long black hair who must be his
lawyer, Ruby. Her paralegal, much unlike Bela’s redheaded bouncy one, is a
serious- looking woman who’s wearing a nametag: Ava.
Cas quickly looks away from his father, face burning with anger. After starting
his daily therapy sessions with Ms. Missouri, he’s been feeling less self-
hatred, and more resentment towards his father. He supposes that’s a good
thing, but he has to remind himself to stay composed and not enraged. The more
likable he seems to the jury, the better chance they have of winning this
thing. The judge enters, a tall, slim, dark-skinned woman. One of the police
officers clears his throat, “All rise for the honorable judge Cassandra
Robinson.” Everyone in the room rises, and then sits collectively. Cas’ heart
pounds.
“Have all members of the jury been explicitly explained the details of the case
and understand that any prejudice and or biased decisions will not be tolerated
by this court?” Judge Robinson asks seriously. There’s a synchronized mutter of
agreement from the jury, and she continues, “Then, let’s begin. Defense, your
opening statement please.”
Ruby rises slowly, her black pencil skirt and tight black jacket causing the
movements of her sleek body to appear snakelike. She marches to the front of
the courtroom, her heels clicking and her shoulders back with the confidence
and credibility of a cage fighter. She gives the crowd a trustworthy, reptilian
smile before beginning, “Ladies and gentleman of the court. We’re here today,
for one reason, and one reason alone.” she tilts her head robotically towards
Cas, and he fidgets under her intimidating gaze, “a man incarcerated four years
ago, has decided to end his sentence early, by framing his religious-leader of
a father for his actions.” she turns back to the crowd, shaking her head
scornfully, “we are in this court to defend an innocent pastor against his
rebellious son’s affront to his faith.”
“Is anyone actually buying this?” Cas hears Bobby demand from a few seats down.
“He’s just a kid,” Mary mutters in response, “She calls him a man like he’s got
any idea how this works.”
“She’s good.” John replies in a hushed tone, “she’s too good.”
Cas tries to tune them out and watch as Ruby finishes her statement, “so before
this trial begins noble jurors, ask yourselves this: is this a legitimate
hearing, or is it one guilty criminals desperate attempt to escape?” 
She whirls on her heels again and stalks back to her chair, as if she’s above
it all. Cas swallows hard and tries to gage the reaction of the jury. Did they
agree with her? Could they already have made a decision? Bela rises now, her
movements much different than Ruby’s. She walks with confidence, but much more
subtle. Her shoulders are back, face serene, movements fluid yet subdued and
welcoming. Castiel much prefers watching her move.
“Opposing counsel mentioned that my client is both a ‘criminal’ and a ‘man.’ I
would first like to begin by pointing out that my client is seventeen years
old, turning eighteen in February. When he was arrested, he’d just turned
thirteen. To call him either a criminal or a man by any standards, is not only
a false statement, but an attempt at swaying your unbiased opinions in the
defense’s favor. A cheap trick, in my opinion. But,” she sighs softly and
arches an eyebrow, “that is not why we’re here today. Today, we are actually
here to avenge the wrongdoing of an innocent, naive child. A child brought up
from tragedy and mistake, who in a desperate attempt to escape his father’s
abusive clutches, made a knee-jerk decision that he knew would free him from
his life.” she glances at Cas, gives him a slight, genuine smile and says, “we
are here today, to give this boy the freedom he deserves.”
“Damn,” Dean mutters, “She’s good too.”
Bela nods once at the jury, gives a pleasant look towards the judge, and moves
back to her seat beside Castiel.
Judge Robinson nods, “The defense may call their first witness.”
Ruby stands again, and the police escort an elderly woman to the beginning of
the room. Cas recognizes her instantly; his old librarian and church choir
leader Ms. Heffner. She was an awful, cranky old bat who hated Castiel because
he refused to play Mary in the nativity scene, despite her insistence that his
soprano voice was better than any of the girls. They’d gotten into a huge
argument that ended with Cas telling her the nativity scene wasn’t a musical,
and her banning him from auditioning for church productions forever. They
didn’t exactly end things on good terms.
The officer swears her in and Ruby begins, “Ms. Heffner, would you explain to
the court how you know both Castiel and Jeremiah Novak?”
The batty old bitch nods, “I have been going to Pastor Novak’s church for
thirty five years. I was with his wife when she delivered all of her children,
including this one.” she gestures a gnarly hand towards Cas and continues, “he
was a nasty little one being born, got stuck and they had to use forceps.” she
scowls, “already causing trouble.”
“Objection!” Bela exclaims, “the witness is using an uncontrollable event to
reflect poorly on my client’s character.”
“Sustained,” Judge Robinson says amiably, “Ms. Heffner please keep things
relevant.”
Ms. Heffner scoffs, but Ruby says, “What did you think of Castiel as a boy? Did
you two get along?”
Ms. Heffner wrinkles her nose, “He was a very good boy until he hit nine. Then,
he became a little brat. Acting out at church, refusing to socialize and even
saying he didn’t want to participate in my nativity scene. He insisted it
wasn’t realistic.”
Cas’ jaw falls slack, she is completely twisting what had happened. She’s
making it sound like he denied the fact that it had ever happened, not him
arguing that Jesus’ birth happened without melody! He turns to Bela, appalled,
but she places her hand on his knee to silence him. Shaking her and mouthing
‘no.’ He sighs, and turns back to the witness.
Ruby nods thoughtfully, “No further questions.”
Bela stands and approaches Ms. Heffner, “Good morning ma’am.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Now, you spoke of my client misbehaving around the time he turned nine years
old. The same time slot that his father began molesting and abusing him.”
“Objection!” Ruby snarls, “my client has not been proven guilty of any
allegations!”
“Sustained,” Judge Robinson says, “disregard that statement jury.”
Bela nods but Cas can see that she’s made her point. The jury members are
glancing between each other with contemplative looks. Reasonable doubt. That’s
what Bela had been doing. Bela finishes her questioning of Ms. Heffner and
another witness is called to the stand. The store clerk who’d sold Pastor Novak
the TV. He’s grilled by Ruby and Bela, telling them the same story. He briefly
remembers a quiet night some four years ago, where a pastor came in and bought
a flat screen. It was the same night that the TV in the Novak household had
been purchased.
Ruby holds her next witness, allowing Bela to call Gabriel to the stand. Cas
watches his brother approach, biting his lip and glancing anxiously at the
crowd. He wonders why Gabe looks so nervous; he’s always been a people person.
Ruby begins, “Gabriel Novak, you are three years Castiel’s senior, yes?”
Gabe nods, “Yes. I’m twenty.”
“Did you and your brother spend much time together as kids?”
“No...I guess not.”
“Why was that?”
“I guess we never had much connection. Nobody in our family did we were kind of
independent. It only got worse when our mother died. But…” he glances at Cas,
“none of us knew what was happening between Cas and our dad.”
Cas avoids his stare, looking at his feet. Ms. Missouri squeezes his shoulder,
letting him know that everything is going well.
“So your father never threatened you or mistreated you in any way?”
“No. He was an average father.”
Ruby nods, “Hmm...so, just to be clear; your father treated all three of his
older sons with respect and proper parenting. But, the child who’s now
incarcerated for his alleged left of church funding, was repeatedly abused and
molested by him, without any of you noticing?”
Gabriel grits his teeth, “Like I said, we were independant.”
Ruby arches a perfectly waxed, sharp brow, “So it would seem. No further
questions.”
She whirls on her feet and heads back to the stand, plopping down beside Cas’
father with a smug expression that makes Castiel’s blood boil.
Bela’s up next, “Gabriel, do you love your brother?”
Gabe hesitates, then nods surely, “I do.”
“Do you love your father?”
He looks towards Pastor Novak, and then back to Bela, “I do.”
She nods, “Okay. Can you share with the court today the evidence against
Jeremiah Novak that you’ve acquired?”
Gabriel nods, and is passed back a familiar brown box from one of the officers.
He thumbs through it, and pulls out a white receipt, “My father prints and
keeps track of his credit card bills, has since he first got them. Every
purchase he makes gets printed and placed in a box in his closet. This is a
bill for the credit card he used to purchase a TV, from the clerk who was up
here earlier. And here-” he digs through and produces another document, “is a
previous receipt. The amount of money on this bill as opposed to the one on
this, is significantly more. Clearly, he’d acquired a great deal of money in a
short span of time, since these bills are three months apart.”
“Allow me to see them.” Judge Robinson orders. Gabe passes them to an officer,
who in turn hands them to the judge. She places a pair of thin glasses on her
nose and studies them before saying, “They’re legitimate.”
Bela smiles at Gabriel, “No further questions.”
Gabe looks to his dad as he exits the stand, “I’m sorry for betraying you, but
I can’t let you get away with this. Too long I’ve stood by and let my little
brother take the hit for things he didn’t do. It’s time for you to grow up.”
The pastor’s lips press into a tight line, but he offers no response. Gabe
scowls and heads back to his seat, shooting Cas an earnest wink as he does so.
Cas smiles at this, and folds his cuffed hands in his lap.
Ruby gets to her feet again, “The defense calls Castiel Novak to the stand.”
-
Dean hesitates, gnawing on his lower lip as Cas slowly gets to his feet and
walks with as much dignity as he can manage. He looks beautiful and terrified,
and Dean wishes he could sprint up and hug him. But he’s proud nonetheless,
proud of Cas for being able to do this.
“This won’t be pretty.” he whispers to Sammy, “keep calm.”
Sam nods once, his now thirteen-year-old face serious, “I understand.”
The bitchy lawyer Ruby stalks over to him like a fucking walking machete, “Good
morning Castiel.”
“Hello ma’am.”
Manners. Nice touch Cas.
Ruby’s jaw clenches and she begins to speak, “Can you explain to the jury the
first time your father allegedly harmed you?”
Castiel sucks in a deep breath, visibly shaken. Dean hopes that makes him look
more sympathetic instead of unstable. He licks his lips and begins, “I was nine
years old when my father first harmed me. It was one day after school. I’d just
finished up homework.” his voice is precise and methodical, like he’s practiced
this in the mirror ten times, “my father sat down beside me at the table and
placed his hand over mine.” he swallows hard, closing his eyes for a moment
before continuing, “he began to run his hand up my arm and towards the top
button of my shirt. I was a child, I was very confused so I allowed him to
continue. I thought- I thought maybe there was something he needed to see on my
chest, maybe I had an injury I didn’t notice.”
“Pretty precise thought process for a nine year old.” Ruby remarks doubtfully.
Cas’ gaze guts to her, and Dean would hate to be on the other end of that
glare, “One will come up with any excuse they can when they experience
unfamiliar and frightening behavior, Ms. Ruby.”
She swallows roughly, “Continue.”
“My father undressed me, very slowly. I remember closing my eyes, pretending
that it was me doing it. I didn’t fully understand the extent of the situation,
being as sexual arousal was a foreign concept to me. My father undressed too,
right there in the kitchen. We were home alone, the first time. I don’t think
he planned it though. I think he got caught up in a moment, and decided to
carry out a sick fantasy he might’ve had.” Cas takes another deep breath, and
Dean notices that he turns to face his father, changing his tone completely,
“We were naked. You had a knife and a candle lighter. You said to me “Castiel,
my beautiful little boy. This is what God wants.” you repeated that until it
was burned into my skull. You made me believe that when you touched me, it was
God’s will.” his face sours, and he looks back to Ruby, “it wasn’t. It was
wrong.”
Ruby seems a bit shaken by the testimony, but she quickly regains composure,
“You say your father brandished weapons against you? Have you any proof of
that? I’m lead to believe you have a significant scar on your torso. Would you
be willing to prove it?”
“Objection!” Bela roars, “the defense is asking my client to undress in front
of the courtroom!”
“Sustained,” Judge Robinson snaps, “Counsel that is absurd and I will not stand
for it.”
“It’s okay,” Cas pipes up, “I want to do it.”
“Cas you don’t have to do this.” Bela insists, “you don’t need to show them
anything.”
Cas shakes his head, “It’s okay.”
Dean can see his hands trembling from a few rows back. He knows how difficult
this is; his scar isn’t exactly something he’s proud of. And now he’s going to
show it off in front of a room full of strangers. His fingers shake as he
removes his black sports coat, and gradually undoes all of his buttons, thank
god someone had uncuffed his hands. He gets to his feet and pulls open his
button up, twisting his body slightly to the side so the entire room can view
the grizzly marks on his skin. A collective gasp erupts from the jury, and even
Ruby looks a little shocked.
But, she quickly says, “Do you have any way to prove that this scar was created
before you entered juvenile hall? The inmate mortality rate at Kripke Detention
is higher than any other in the state. Surely another inmate could have crafted
a weapon against you.”
Bela clears her throat, “We’ve brought in a licensed doctor who also performs
autopsies to examine the injury and determine the date it was received.”
“I’ll allow it,” Judge Robinson says, “bring him up.”
A serious looking brunette man in a brown tux walks slowly up to the front
stand, where he faces Castiel, “is it alright if I touch you Castiel?”
Cas hesitates, but nods once, “Yes sir.”
The doctor nods, and turns Cas’ body towards the jury, “the indentation of the
scar in his skin would indicate it was delivered by a relatively blunt object,
which is very possibly a kitchen knife that wasn’t maintained correctly. As far
as the age of the scar; it’s very old. See here, a new scar like the one he has
here on his arm, probably from an accident, is red and puckered. It will scab
and eventually turn into this,” he traces two fingers lightly along Castiel’s
scar, “a fairly faded, jagged white mark that is beginning to blend with his
skin. The scar has also clearly stretched, as proven by the misshapen edges
around here, which says that it has grown and changed along with Castiel’s body
over a period of years.” he turns to Ruby with a sour expression, “this scar is
very, very old.”
“Thank you doctor,” Judge Robinson says to him, “you may take your seat.
Castiel, you may redress.”
There’s fire in Ruby’s eyes and she growls, “Is it true that you killed another
inmate?”
Cas’ head jerks up from his half undone buttons, “What?”
“Objection!” Bela demands, pushing her chair back with a screech,
“Preposterous! The irrelevant insinuation that my client-”
“Who’s insinuating?” Ruby argues, “he killed Alastair Parker!”
“The kid was on drugs and acting violently, Castiel defended himself!”
“Enough!” Judge Robinson snaps, “Objection sustained, as the death of Alastair
Parker has been proven self defense. Ruby, I will give you two more minutes
with Castiel, and then you’re done. You are plucking at my last nerve.”
Ruby scoffs, “No further questions.” and returns to her chair.
Judge Robinson rubs the bridge of her nose, “That’s all for today. I ask that
court convenes again tomorrow at noon.” she bangs her gavel and exits the room.
“Well,” Dean hears Bela say to Castiel, “we’re almost there kiddo.”
***** Verdict *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNINGS: mentions of sexual/physical abuse, general mature content.
     Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!
     Almost to the finish line guys...we can get through this together <3
     (PS I promise this story wont make you cry like Twist and Shout did.
     Pls don't talk to me about that fic.)
For some sick, masochistic reason, Dean has Son of a Preacher Man by Dusty
Springfield stuck in his head.
The only boy who could ever teach me, was the son of a preacher man He’d kiss
and tell me everything is alright, can I get away again tonight?
Missouri is called to the stand first. Her chin held high, eyes gleaming with
pride and knowledge and a wisdom that can only be described as ancient. Dean
admires the way she moves without apology, the way her entire being centers
around her intelligence and power. She walks with the stance of a leader.
“Ms. Missouri,” Ruby says as she bores her glinting snake eyes into Ms.
Missouri, “you’ve been a therapist and doctor at Kripke Detention for how
long?”
Ms. Missouri seems utterly unaffected by Ruby’s sharp behavior, “Twenty three
years. Probably since before you were born.”
Ruby’s nose curls up in distaste, but she continues, “you’ve seen a lot of boys
go through there huh?”
“More than you can count.” Ruby rolls her reptilian eyes, “Right. Do a lot of
them claim to be innocent?”
“Of course.”
“Are a lot of them actually innocent?”
“A lot of them have committed crimes.”
Ruby doesn’t seem to like that answer, “So you’re admitting that several boys
in your career have tried to say they were innocent, and yet-”
“None of them said they were innocent, Ms. Ruby. But a lot of them weren’t
criminals.”
Ruby decides this isn’t going exactly where she wants it to, and switches
topics, “Let’s talk about Castiel Novak.”
“Excellent, I adore him.”
Dean smiles, and he can see Cas looking at his feet, smiling as well.
“You’ve been counseling him, correct?”
“Yes I have.”
“And you admit that he has violent outbursts and times when he can’t seem to
control his mood swings and anger?”
“Yes. All of which are symptoms of what I believe to be, his post-traumatic
stress disorder, and his bipolar disorder.”
“So he’s not completely sane?”
Ms. Missouri levels with Ruby, her dark eyes shimmering with something
unreadable, “Castiel is as sane as they come. His father however,” she shoots
the defense a daunting glare, “is not. And Jeremiah Novak is the reason Castiel
suffers from unpredictable disorders. Not to mention, his rage and quickly
shifting mood swings are severe because he’s never been treated for them. No
one has ever tried to help him.”
The jury begin hushed whispers among themselves while Ruby attempts to respond
to this, “So the client is unstable, violent and temperamental, and has
untreated mental disorders?”
“Yes but he-”
“And is it true that bipolar disorder can lead people to tell lies and lash out
unnecessarily?”
“In some cases yes but Castiel-”
“And you believe that Castiel has this disorder?”
“He does but-”
“No further questions.” Ms. Missouri snarls at her, “You’ve got a bad attitude
girl.”
“Tell it to the jury.”
Bela rises, scowling at Ruby as she passes her and approaches the witness
stand, “Morning Missouri.”
“How are you Bela?” “I’ve been better, thanks. Now, you were close with an
inmate who passed, Alastair Parker?”
“An inmate Castiel murdered.” Ruby adds.
“Objection!”
“Sustained,” Judge Robinson growls, “Defense I will hold you in contempt if you
don’t zip it!”
Ruby puts her hands up defensively, but shuts her mouth.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Bela proceeds, “you and
Alastair Parker were close?”
Ms. Missouri nods sorrowfully, “Yes, the boy was on drugs. He had a rough home
life, he severely struggled with psychotic outbursts and other hindrances. He
often came to me in times of distress, for comfort.”
“And how did Parker and Novak behave towards each other?”
“Another inmate, who is here today, Dean Winchester, seemed to be the center of
their issues. During Dean’s first week I believe, Alastair and a few of his
friends beat him up. This began the tension between Castiel and Alastair, I
would assume.”
“Dean, would you stand up please?” Judge Robinson inquires, eyes scanning the
crowd.
Dean takes a deep breath and rises to his feet, wishing his hands weren’t
cuffed, because he looks like a damn criminal, “Hi.” he says unsurely.
“You know Castiel Novak?” she confirms.
Dean smiles, “Very well.” Cas smiles back at him, which sends a few people in
the jury into pleasant grins as well.
The judge nods, “And just to confirm what the witness said, Alastair Parker
violently attacked you during your first week?”
Dean nods, “Yes. He fractured my rib, split my lip and gave me a few bruises.
Cas got angry with him, but he decided to mind his own business.”
Bela smiles, “So Castiel didn’t attack Alastair immediately after your abuse?”
“No, not at all. There was tension and all that, but they never fought. Until,
Al was on drugs again and he picked a fight with Castiel’s friend Jo. Cas
confronted him, and Al was...acting crazy. We all knew he was going to hurt
Cas, which is why he defended himself.” Dean puckers his lips at Ruby
immaturely, “he didn’t murder anyone.”
Ruby narrows her eyes, but looks away.
“You may sit Mr. Winchester, thank you.” Judge Robinson nods, and he smiles at
her and takes his seat.
“So overall, what is your opinion of Castiel?” Bela asks Missouri seriously.
Missouri glances at Cas and sighs, “he’s the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. I used
to despise him, I thought he was bad news and a bad person. But...he’s very
genuine, and kind, and he’s learning not to let his horrible past define who he
is. And he loves his faith. See that cross around his neck? Never seen him take
it off. He overreacted during Christmas when the other inmates didn’t take it
seriously. He’s capable of a lot of things Ms. Talbot, but betraying his church
is not one of them. He did not steal money.”
Bela nods, smiling, “No further questions.”
The trial drags on, Ruby gives facts and statements that reflect on all the
good things Pastor Novak has done for the church. It’s surprisingly convincing,
and he gives the jury an earnest smile that even makes Dean think he might not
be so bad. He shakes that thought off quickly, disgusted. Bela calls Bobby to
the stand, and he talks about how much he likes Cas and wants to see him
succeed. Michael and Lucifer both come up to the stand and insists that their
father is an honest, hard-working and kind man. The pastor himself stays quiet.
Things are relatively tied, until Bela calls her surprise witness.
“I’d like to call Frank Devereaux to the stand.”
“What?” Ruby demands, “your honor, the prosecution didn’t list him as witness!”
Judge Robinson purses her lips, “Who’s the witness Ms. Talbot?”
“A computer expert who works for the detention center.”
Interested, the judge replies, “I’ll allow it.”
Ruby throws her hands up in irritation, but the witness approaches the stand.
He’s bulky and not very tall, with a map of graying hair and thick black
glasses. He walks like he’d just been electrocuted, jitters and shakes running
through his body with excitement.
“Thank you for being here today,” Bela tells him.
He nods, “Not pickin sides or nothin, just here to present some facts.”
“Care to elaborate?”
He nods at the courtroom, “at the detention center we allow weekly visits on
Saturdays. We have cameras in the visitation rooms that record audio and video
very very clearly, I’d know, I installed them myself. A few weeks ago, Jeremiah
Novak signed himself in for a visit with his son, Castiel.”
Interest peaks in the jury’s masses, and Cas leans forward in his seat
curiously.
“You brought us a video of their interaction today? Haven’t you?”
Frank nods, “I have.”
Two of the officers approach the center of the room with a large portable
screen. They allow Frank to come up to it and fiddle with some buttons. Then,
all of a sudden, the screen is displaying a birds-eye view of the visitation
room. Frank takes a little remote and zooms in on two people: Castiel and his
dad. “Listen carefully,” Frank orders, and presses play.
“You look handsome,” Pastor Novak is saying to Cas, “so much like your mother.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve you fucking prick.” Castiel hisses in response.
The pastor sighs, running a hand through his thinning dark hair. “Son, you must
know, I’ve recanted.” he shakes his head, “I’ve been forgiven for my sins. The
things I did to you as a child did not go unpunished.”
“Oh really?” Cas spits, sitting up to face his father head-on, “You’ve been
forgiven have you? By who?”
“The lord of course,” his father replies matter-of-factly, “I confessed, I lost
you as punishment.”
“You’re a goddamn idiot,” Cas growls, “he doesn’t get to forgive you! You
didn’t fucking molest him-”
“Language Castiel.”
“Fuck you! I’m the one who says whether or not you’re forgiven. And guess what
you sick fuck? You’re not. You’re a monster. Oh, and by the way douchepants,
you’re the reason I’m here.”
The pastor shakes his head, dumbfounded, “What did you call me?”
Cas’ teeth grind audibly, “Douche. Pants.”
Frank stops the video again, raising an eyebrow at the jury, “and here…” he
fast forwards, and hits play again.
“Why did you come here?” Cas inquires, “what do you want?”
“I wanted to see my son...and your brothers told me your appeal hearing went
well. They told me that you said you didn’t commit the crime.”
“So you’re here to tell me to keep my mouth shut?”
“I needn't worry about that Castiel, what evidence have you got? Stealing money
from your church and using it for your own personal needs is a very serious
crime, especially in our hometown. You really think they’re gonna believe the
pastor did it?”
“Gotta give it to you dad,” Cas snaps, “that’s vindictive.”
“It’s the truth Castiel. I couldn’t get you out if I tried.”
“Not that you’d try.”
Frank presses STOP. Dean’s neck cranes to the side and his furious expression
trains on Jeremiah. The pastor, for the first time during the trial, is
beginning to look nervous. Judge Robinson, jaw clenched, turns to Bela, “Can
you confirm that the film and audio haven’t been doctored?”
“Ah!” Frank reaches into his bag and passes a series of papers over to the
judge, “proven by both myself and two other certified technology experts that
the film and audio are both authentic.”
Judge Robinson looks over the papers, nodding, “Very good. All documents are
legalized and proven.”
Bela grins, “Nothing further.”
“Defense?” Judge Robinson asks, “Have you any questions for the witness?”
Ruby, looks positively overwhelmed, “No.”
“Then please proceed with your closing statement.”
Ruby nods, chin high as she collects herself, and slinks to the center of the
courtroom. She turns to the jury, swallows, and begins, “Ladies and gentlemen,
over the past two days you’ve seen an overwhelming collection of facts and
files and so called evidence. You’ve been blasted and prodded by the
prosecution’s attempts at proving their client’s innocence. While my client, a
faithful, god-loving pastor sits in silence and takes the abuse with grace.”
she shakes her head sadly, “it is a shame to me to even be present during this
trial. To watch as an innocent man loses two of his children to lies and
hatred. It is to me, sad that you have to waste your time sitting through
this.” she turns slightly, “I expect this jury to make the right decision, very
quickly. Thank you all for your time.” She clicks back to her seat primly,
tossing her hair over her shoulder and lifting her chin.
“Game time,” Bela murmurs to Castiel, and then rises. She moves to the front,
placing her hands on her hips and smiling at the jury, “You all know why you’re
actually here. You are here because for one time in this boys life,” she
gestures with an open palm to Cas’ anxious expression, “Someone decided he was
worth it. A foreign concept to him. He is thrown into incarceration for a crime
he confessed to but did not commit, out of desperation, locked up all by
himself for four years, and then jerked from his new home and brought here to
defend himself to all of you. To prove his innocence. To share his awful,
horrible story. To try for once to get himself what he deserves, since he’s
been suffering for so long. Well, now it’s up to you. The defense is right,
we’ve shown you all the evidence we can. Because, we actually have evidence,
unlike her. We have shown heartwrenching testimonies, hardcore facts in the
form of audio and video, as well as credit card bills and explanations as to
why my innocent client confessed. To escape his father’s abuse.” she licks her
lips, “All I ask of you now, is to take your time and come to a unanimous
decision that is right. Think about what you’ve seen, what you’ve heard, what
thoughts have coursed through your mind. Thank you.”
She nods and returns to her seat, leaning over to squeeze Castiel’s hand.
Dean’s mother looks over at him, smiling through her teary eyes, “I think we
have good things to look forward to.”
Before he can respond, Judge Robinson speaks up, “Thank you prosecution and
defense. Jury, I ask that you convene in the conference room next door, and you
must all agree on your decision before you bring it back. You will have as much
time as you need. It’s all on you now.” she glances at Cas, and then back to
them, “please choose carefully.” The courtroom begins to disperse.
“What’s next?” Dean asks his mom, slightly confused.
She sighs, “We wait.”
-
The waiting seems endless. Cas swivels around in the office chair. He picks at
his coat. He avoids the food Bela had brought him ten minutes before. He does
everything he can to avoid screaming. Minutes begin to melt into hours. The
time blends together. Bela’s temporary office in the courthouse is cold and he
misses Dean terribly. He just wants it all to be over. He’s pretty sure it’s
five hours later, but it might be six, when Bela enters. Day has turned to
night, and the moon replaces the sun with ferocity.
Bela pushes the door open, “They’ve made a decision!”
“Took them long enough!” he exclaims.
She snorts, “Boy this might’ve been the fastest jury I’ve ever had. C’mon we
need to get down there!”
They bustle down the halls together, finally entering the courtroom. It’s full
again, and the jury have begun filing back in. Judge Robinson seems on edge,
and Ruby looks worse. Castiel’s father still looks unaffected and calm, but Cas
knows he’s freaking out inside.
C’mon Cas. Take a deep breath. Everything will be okay.
He welcomes the positive voice in his head, and sits down beside Bela. Glancing
behind him, he spots Dean, who gives him a thumbs up and an encouraging smile.
He smiles back, and Ms. Missouri squeezes his arm.
“Whatever happens baby, no matter the verdict, I’ll always be here for you.”
she promises.
Mary nods in agreement, although John seems opposed as she says, “Me too
Castiel. You can always come to me.”
Cas notices John’s pout, like he’s not used to being talked over. He smiles to
himself, wondering if there’d been a regime change recently. Perhaps Mary had
gotten sick of her husband being, quite frankly, a dick.
Judge Robinson turns to the head juror, “Please read your unanimous decision.”
The head juror rises to her feet, swallowing hard, “We find the defendant
Jeremiah Novak guilty on the charges of embezzlement of church funding, sexual
and physical abuse of a minor, and obstruction of justice.” she turns to
Castiel, who’s staring slack-jawed, “We find the prosecution Castiel Novak
innocent of all alleged charges, and released into freedom with his record
wiped clean.”
Everything moves at once. Ruby begins shouting profanities at the jury, yet
Pastor Novak remains expressionless and silent. Bobby, Mary and Dean are
wooting excitedly. Ms. Missouri is crying, but she’s grinning like the cheshire
cat. Bela looks smug and pleased. Castiel stays still, waiting for the catch.
He’s waiting for the head juror to scream, “Ha! Just kidding! Send that kid
back to juvie!” But that doesn’t happen. Someone’s pulling him to his feet,
crushing him against their chest. It takes him a moment to register that he’s
being hugged, not strangled. He looks up into Ms. Missouri’s teary eyes.
“You’re free!” she exclaims, grabbing his face in her hands and pressing kisses
against his cheeks and forehead, “you’re free!”
“I’m...free. I’m free,” he laughs breathlessly as the reality hits him, “I’m
free!” He whirls around and takes Bela’s face, planting a big slobbery kiss
right on her mouth, “Thank you!”
She blinks, dizzy, “oh! You got it kid!” she pats his back as if to remind
herself that he’s half her age, and grins, “you’re free to go!”
“Dean, where’s Dean?”
He spins, finding Dean in the crowd. The green-eyed boy is quickly weaving
through people to get to him. Their chests collide and Cas doesn’t care that it
knocks his breath away and probably breaks Dean’s spine. They hug, bodies
molding together as Cas cries and Dean sniffles and laughs and buries his face
in Cas’ hair. “I love you I love you!” Cas exclaims, kissing Dean’s face and
wiping away his tears, “I love you so much!”
“I love you,” Dean leans down and mashes their lips together, not seeming to
notice the mortified expression on his father’s face.
They kiss until Castiel’s chest aches from lack of air and his entire body
feels weak and wobbly.
“I told you,” Dean whispers, “I told you you could trust me.”
Cas laughs, “Thank god I did.”
-
It’s Castiel’s last night at Kripke Detention, and Dean could not be more
thrilled. Tomorrow morning Ms. Missouri is taking him to a really good foster
home just a few miles outside of town. Dean’s mom has promised she’ll pick
Castiel up every weekend and bring him with her to visitation days until Dean
gets out. Dean will call every day and Cas will answer, he promises. He’ll
continue seeing Ms. Missouri every other day for more therapy sessions, and the
foster family is going to homeschool him. Dean hasn’t met them, but Cas seems
to like them a lot. Not to mention, Castiel’s dad is going away for a long,
long time.
“Well,” Jo says somewhat sadly, “It’s your last night sharing a cell with
Dean.”
Cas smiles and kisses Dean’s cheek, “It’s not an ending, it’s a beginning. We
will stop sharing a cell and start sharing a house in a few years.”
Dean’s cheeks blossom bright crimson, “Yes. Yes we will Cas.”
This time, he means it. Benny pats Cas on the back again, which looks to
irritate him but they all ignore it. Kevin is nice, but slightly boring, and
the rest of the night goes off without a hitch. They eat dinner, laughing and
smiling and celebrating Castiel’s release.
“So,” Dean says as they’re walking back to their cell, “What’s the first thing
you’re gonna do when you get out?”
“Miss you,” Cas admits, smiling shyly. Dean chuckles, “Alright, the second
thing?”
“Probably eat pizza and then cake and fall into a sugar coma on my first night
in my new house.” he laughs, “They’ve got a little kid, but that’s it. She’s
adorable, her name’s Anna and she might be the sweetest little girl I’ve ever
met.”
“I’m so happy right now Cas,” Dean admits, “I’m so happy you’re getting what
you deserve.”
Cas leans down and places a warm kiss to Dean’s mouth, “I’m gonna get a job,
and save up for an apartment and then you and me are going to be together. I
promise.”
“Good,” Dean says against Cas’ lips, “that’s going to help me through these
upcoming months without you.”
“I’ll still be with you,” Cas promises, “I’ll see you every weekend and talk to
you every day.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
They both turn with interest at the voice. Crowley is standing in the deserted
corridor, hands behind his back, expression furious. Cas sighs, and turns to
face him, “Crowley, listen-”
“No! You listen. Alastair was my only friend, and you killed him.”
“Crowley, I-”
“Shut up!” Crowley moves closer, eyes glinting with rage.
“What’s behind your back?” Dean asks him anxiously, pulling Cas so he’s a
little further away. Crowley just moves with them, closing the distance.
Crowley grins, and slowly removes the pen, “The rec room has writing utensils,
which is stupid. If you get someone just hard enough in just the right place,
it can be fatal.”
“Crowley,” Cas tries again, “You don’t want to-”
“Yes I do Castiel. You took away my only friend.”
“Cas c’mon let’s go,” Dean pulls him back a little, “let’s get some help
c’mon.”
But Cas isn’t done, “I know, I’m sorry Crowley. I can’t make up for that, but
he was acting wild. He’d hurt my friend. You can’t blame me for-”
“Can’t blame you?!” Crowley shrieks, “you’re dead!” He lurches forward and
grabs Cas’ neck before either boy can react. Rearing back, he screams and jabs
the pen into Cas’ throat.
Dean can't hear a word over his loud shriek, “No!”
***** Flubber *****
Chapter Notes
     omg y'all were so sad about the last chapter I promise you'll be
     okay!!! <3
     Just want to say thank you to everyone who supported this fic and omg
     commented so much interesting and nice stuff! I really appreciate it
     aw
     As always, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
In a place like this, you’ve gotta keep your poker face on. The shackles only
get tighter and the cells only get smaller. The people only get tougher, and
the fights get more deadly.
This was never really Dean's story. Or Castiel's even. It was their story. And
like all stories, it could've had a different ending if the writer was
different. Things could've changed, had Dean and Cas never met. Things would've
been easier, maybe on both of them, maybe just on Dean. Nothing would be as it
is today, and Dean wonders how such a small fraction of his life could still
today affect him. 
Dean takes each step slowly, savoring the sights and smells that remind him of
twenty years before. His loafers click on the deserted floor that once held so
much life. He finds himself smiling, running his fingers through the short hair
that runs along his scalp. He moves forward, eyes casting over the empty rooms
and the sterile smell of cleaning supplies. The dilapidated words carved into
the wall are missing a few letters, so they read “Kripk Detenon Hal”
He chuckles at the sucky maintenance, or lack thereof. He continues, stepping
into the abandoned recreation room. If he closes his eyes, he can still see Jo
and Kevin lounging on the old sofa, watching Flubber. He can see Benny and
Garth -through Mr. Fizzles- arguing over a card game. He sees Alastair and
Crowley picking on some newbies, slapping them around like they own the place.
He sees Bobby, who’s probably long gone by now, reprimanding two idiots for
breaking something. He can see Ms. Missouri -who was once a major part of his
life but has since passed away- scolding someone for misusing her antiseptic.
His heart thuds unevenly in his chest as a plethora of unpleasant memories
overwhelm him. Alastair beating the shit out of him. Cas nearly getting him off
then abandoning him. Getting that awful 24 hour stomach bug that had him
hunched over a puke-bucket for days. Not being able to see his family.
There are pleasant memories as well. The first snowfall that brought him and
Cas to their ice first kiss. The snowball fights on Christmas. Comforting Jo
and finally getting to see her leave juvie. Castiel’s father getting convicted.
Dean finally getting out. Dean getting home and both of his parents telling him
that if he’s gay, it’s fine. Although it seemed to strain on John’s nerves, he
didn’t say anything about it, which Dean figures was progress on it’s own.
There’s something in the air here. It hangs over his head like a swinging
chandelier. He can’t decipher what it is. It’s not necessarily a bad thing,
it’s...just different. Almost longing. Bitter Sweet and sorrowful, but with a
tint of hope. He thinks that describes this place pretty well. It’s so strange
to be back here. He feels so odd, standing in the midst of an empty building
that once housed him for 18 months, some twenty years ago. How naive he’d been,
how simple minded and idiotic. It seems strange to him now, looking back, that
it was him. Dean is thirty six, when he was sixteen he thought juvie was his
only reality. How silly it is now, that he could possibly think so closed-
mindedly.
Suddenly, hands circle around his waist, “Looks good.”
He whirls around, smiling up, “Looks like shit.”
Brilliant azure eyes glisten, and a wide-smile laughs, “Looks a lot better than
when I was almost murdered with a ballpoint pen.”
Dean grins, slapping at Cas playfully, “Get off me idiot.” but, he leans up and
kisses the small scar that rests on the side of his neck, still slightly
prominent even after twenty years of existence. Cas has a lot of scars, but
this one is different. It's something they went through together. The agonizing
hours of Dean lying awake, thinking about Cas in the hospital with only Ms.
Missoury by his side. Those had been the worst days of his life.
“Really though,” Cas insists, “it will take some TLC, but the kids will love
it.”
Dean chuckles, “Just don’t tell them their new daycare center location is in an
abandoned juvenile detention hall.”
“Daddy!” Dean turns again at the impatient -very Cas-like- voice of their six
year old. Brown eyes gleaming, blonde hair messy around her shoulders, she
sprints at Dean.
“Hey kiddo! Been exploring?”
She grins, “Yep! I left Ben all by himself.”
“Emma!” the twelve year-old enters, face flushed with worry. Then, he sighs,
“Guys, how am I supposed to watch her she’s always bouncing off the walls.”
Cas chuckles, ruffling his adopted son’s hair, “That’s just one of the things
we like about her.”
Dean scoops Emma up and spins her around, “See this room here? Your daddy and I
used to come here everyday.”
“Wow! Why’d you do that daddy?”
He sighs, “Well, before when this place wasn’t empty, it was a place for bad
kids to come and change their ways. Now of course your dad and I are going to
turn it into the daycare center for those kids we take care of, remember the
ones we told you about?”
Emma nods thoughtfully, “The ones without families?”
“The ones who don’t have families just yet,” Cas corrects, leaning in to press
a mushy kiss against her forehead, “but they will.”
“That’s right,” Dean agrees, “And what do we say?”
“If they can’t find a family, we’ll become their family.” Ben cuts in, grinning
proudly at his very precise verbatim recitation of their family’s mantra.
“Absolutely.” Ben turns slightly, examining the crumbling wallpaper and torn up
floors, “It’s gonna need a lot of work before it’s suitable for the kids.”
“We’re not exactly opposed to hard work Benjamin,” Cas replies with a grin,
“just getting you two was hard work. But it was worth it of course.”
Emma giggles, “Getting you was hard work too daddy!”
“Oh I know sweetie,” Cas pulls her from Dean’s arms and hugs her tight.
“Oooh! I’m gonna go look outside!” Emma wriggles out of her father’s arms and
Benjamin sighs, following the child out to make sure she’s careful.
“Our kids are absolutely ridiculous,” Dean reminds Cas as they lean in for
another kiss.
Cas smiles against his lips, “Yeah, but they’re ours.”
“Feels so weird, to be back here. I wish Missouri was still alive.”
Cas sighs, rubbing Dean’s back, “She’d shout at us for not saying hi to her
first. Probably smack me upside the head and call me boy.”
Dean laughs loudly, pleasure breaking through the melancholy air in the room,
“This is also where we met though.”
Cas grins salaciously, “First place we had sex.”
“Mm, first of many.”
Cas leans back a little, seriousness taking over, “You saved my life Dean
Winchester.”
“You tell me this every day.”
“Just making sure you know.”
“Cas, you saved yourself. I just helped out a little. Besides, I think it was
you who saved me.”
“I beg to differ,” Cas takes Dean in his arms again and swings him in a circle,
“we should watch Flubber.”
Dean snorts, “Our children are never going to see that movie, if I have any
say.”
“You’re an amazing father.”
“And you’re too kind.”
“And you’re the best husband anyone could ever ask for.”
“And you’re...wow! You’re right! I’m fantastic.”
Laughing again, they close the distance and kiss once more. Dean inhales the
scent of Castiel’s aftershave, relishing in the feeling of his hands at his
waist and their mouths colliding.
“Your lips are the same as always,” Dean breathes, “unchanging, beautiful and
addictive.”
“Just like you Newbie.”
Chapter End Notes
     Lol the major character death was Missouri. I'm a sneaky little shit
     but I love happy endings!!! <3
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