Folsom Prison Blues (8/11)
If Dean didn’t know better he would have thought that the night before had been a dream. But he did know better, mostly thanks to a very crusty pair of coveralls balled up in the corner. Apparently spunk showed up like a bastard on the prison suits. Figured. Dean woke up too early as usual; the sun had just started to peek over the tall redwoods off in the distance, illuminating the cell in the soft morning light. Cas was snoring peacefully, sleeping like the dead thanks to their pretty rigorous activities last night. A smile snuck its way across Dean’s face. Last night had been real, and it was amazing. A little short, rushed and uncomfortable towards the end, but definitely worth it. Especially since Dean was finally going to get the 411 on Cas’ imprisonment.
Only twenty minutes later, Cas woke up rubbing his eyes blearily with the back of his hand. Dean tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his grin. It was like Christmas morning.
“How long have you been up?”
“I dunno. What time is it now?”
Castiel checked his digital watch. Weird, he struck Dean as an old school watch kind of guy. “It’s 7:23, Dean.”
Dean scratched his stubble. “An hour and a half. Just before six.”
“Freak.” Cas grumbled, eyeing the bed, tempted to return to the mattress. “I suppose you’re waiting to hear my story.”
“Yeah, no shit. You’re just lucky you’re exceptionally good with those hips.” Dean waggled his eyebrows. “You pretty much rerouted all my wires last night.” Dean was pleased to see Cas color slightly. “Or else I would have been on your ass like white on rice.”
“I can’t say I object to that scenario.” Cas replied mildly.
“Stop trying to distract me. God, and you thought that I was the tease.”
“Alright.” Cas sighed, sitting up on the bed and swinging his legs over the edge. “Come here, Dean.” He patted the mattress next to him. Dean obeyed, but not before bringing his own blanket over. The nights and mornings were getting colder; winter was on its way.
“I think it goes without saying, that it would be much appreciated if you did not spread the news around the prison.” Cas started, watching the wall opposite. “I do not mind if you discuss it with Sam, but please refrain from telling the fellow prisoners. I-I’m not sure how well it would be received.”
Dean’s brow furrowed. Cas was making this out to be really serious. Which, granted, they were in a maximum security prison; it was pretty likely that Cas wasn’t in Folsom for shoplifting.
“Read ya loud and clear.” Dean agreed.
Cas nodded firmly. It was clearly taking a lot out of the guy, and the better part of Dean wanted to tell Cas to forget it. But the more flawed and infinitely larger part of Dean wanted to know why Cas was in the slammer.
“The first thing you should know is that I had a very average upbringing. I had no history of abuse, neglect, sociopathic tendencies or brainwashing.” This intro was doing nothing to soothe Dean’s nerves. “By all accounts my parents were, are, good people. Same with our friends, neighbors, my teachers. None of them are to blame for my actions.” The speech sounded slightly rehearsed, and Dean wondered how many times Cas had repeated it in the past. How many times the lawyers and cops made him run through it over and over looking for discrepancies.
“Until I attended college at USC-”
“No way!” Dean interrupted. “I didn’t know you were a Trojan!” Castiel looked slightly surprised at the outburst. He nodded slightly.
“Yes, I attended USC immediately after graduating high school; I was even awarded a scholarship.” Cas smiled softly, clearly still proud of that accomplishment. “Although I have lived in California my entire life, going to school in Los Angeles proved to be a shock to my system.” Dean grimaced in sympathy; L.A. could turn any sane man crazy. The town was full of lunatics and social climbers. “I quickly became disillusioned with my heteronormative past, fueled by my recent realization that I had no interest in the opposite sex. Like many college students, I turned to drugs and alcohol but found that they weren’t giving me the inspiration and purpose that I desired. And then I met Meg.”
Dean swallowed. There was not a story in the world that ended up well after a lost and impressionable guy met a bad girl. To be fair, Dean didn’t know for sure that Meg was a bad person. But he had a feeling that if she had set Castiel on the straight and narrow, he wouldn’t be brushing thighs with him at the moment.
“Meg was different than anybody I had ever met before.” Dean figured that ‘different’ was code for ‘bat shit insane’. “She spoke more surely of revolution than anybody I had ever met. Meg was committed to ‘shaking things up’, as she called it. Soon after I had met her in my Philosophy of Modern America course, she introduced to me to her friends. I would later find out that I had met the founding members of the Morning Star’s Coven.”
He stifled a groan, barely. The Morning Star’s Coven was bad news bears. As far as cults go, they weren’t particularly big, but for what they lacked in size they more than made up for in tenacity. Dean was by no means an expert on their freak ways, but he knew that one of their core beliefs was that the end of days was fast approaching and it was their duty to choose who would make it into the second phase of human life. There were lots of disappearances that had been tied to the group, but none of the charges had stuck, leaving them scot free.
“Judging by your face, I can tell you are familiar with them.” His eyes flickered over to Dean’s face before returning to the wall. “After a couple of months I became fairly involved in the organization, still not fully realizing to what extent they were willing to go to in order to ‘bring judgment’.” Castiel sighed and paused, collecting his thoughts. “I ended up dropping out of school, telling my parents that I had found my direction and had devoted my life to a cause.” He smiled ruefully. “You have no idea how much I wish that they didn’t trust my decision and forced me to stay at USC. Anyways, at this point I had been steadily climbing through the ranks of the group, and soon I was chosen to take place in my first judgment.”
Dean sucked in an involuntary gasp of air. This was seriously fucked up. He was now kind of wishing that Cas would stop, he didn’t know if he wanted to hear this. But the guy was clearly on a roll and not able to internalize it any longer.
“When they first mentioned it to me, I immediately agreed. I mistakenly thought that it was more of a symbolic gesture, that I would perform an incantation and damn a third of the earth to damnation. It wasn’t until they brought me to an abandoned warehouse with a can of gasoline and a lighter, did I realize that they were actually more literal than I had previously thought. I knew that arson was wrong, but we were in the middle of nowhere and the fellow Morning Stars assured me that they owned the land so they were the only ones who were getting hurt in the deal. Of course, I should have realized that they were lying. It wasn’t until I had dropped the lighter into the puddle of gasoline did they tell me the second half of the ritual. They had chosen somebody who was fit to be judged in their eyes, and they had been tied up unconscious on the floor of the warehouse.”
Dean felt sick. This was Cas. Quiet, sarcastic, mild-mannered, Castiel. Not an arsonist, not a murderer of innocents.
“Who was it?” He managed to croak out.
“Meg.” Castiel answered. “She angered the higher-ups, and they decided that her fate lay in my unknowing hands. “
He let it soak in; it was a lot to process. “What happened after that?”
“I turned myself in. I was tempted to end my own life, but I wanted to bring justice to Meg’s senseless death and help the authorities tear apart the Coven. However, the authorities unfortunately could not look past my crimes and were forced to try me for arson and manslaughter.” Castiel sighed. “I shouldn’t complain, my sentence was considerably lessened once I cooperated with the LAPD and spilled the secrets of the Morning Stars. And once I have my parole hearing, I will have a letter of recommendation from the police chief herself. Chief Mills was most understanding of my situation, but it was beyond even her control.”
They were quiet for a while after that. Cas, tired out from the mostly one-sided conversation, and Dean simply processing all the new information. Dean knew he should feel angry; as far as he was concerned arsonists were the scum of the earth. But he couldn’t bring himself to be upset at Castiel; the man was manipulated and lied to. Hardly a criminal mastermind. In fact, it was a miracle that he had lasted this long in jail. He clearly belonged on the other side of the tracks, literally. Despite the silence, Dean didn’t move from Castiel’s bed. They weren’t quite touching, but Dean wasn’t moving away. It wasn’t until the other prisoners started to wake up did Dean talk.
“My mom was killed in a house fire, you know.” He started, staring at his socks. “One of Alastair’s men started it. Me and Sammy barely got out alive.”
“I know.” Cas whispered, sounding absolutely broken. “I understand if you wish to transfer, Dean.”
“What?” Dean asked, confused. “No, Cas. I’m not going to transfer. You didn’t let me finish.” He grumbled. “The dick that burned my house didn’t give a shit that everybody inside was completely innocent, he was just got off on it. A little firebug that wanted to ruin people’s lives. But you, Cas. You’re different. You weren’t trying to hurt anybody.” He explained. “You aren’t the same breed as them. You’re a good person.”
And then completely against form, Castiel hugged Dean. Burying his face in Dean’s neck, Cas squeezed tightly. He let out something that sounded like a ‘thank you’, but Dean couldn’t be sure. Dean would have liked the hug to go on a lot longer, but Cas’ hair was tickling his nose. “No problem, Cas. I told you before, I’m not that big of a douchebag.” He said gruffly, awkwardly patting Castiel’s back.
Castiel pulled back, frowning slightly. “Does this mean that you would also like to continue our-” He paused, waving his hand around in the air.
Dean rolled his eyes, happy for the mood change. “Yes, you big nerd. I’d definitely be down with getting a little thunder down under in the near future.” When Cas blushed something fierce, Dean just laughed and slapped his back. They were going to be okay, he could feel it.
He’d be lying if he said he was 100% okay with Castiel’s situation. It killed him to know that somebody had taken advantage of his Castiel and twisted him into something unrecognizable. Cas had lost his family and friends because of that goddamned cult and Dean would be a monkey’s uncle if Cas lost Dean because of those jag weeds too.
NEXT PART