Fic: You Commandeered My Heart (3/?) (SPN, Dean/Castiel)
Title: You Commandeered My Heart (3/?) - Family Don't End With Blood
Author: anoradh
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Pirate!AU, romance
Warnings: Bad Harlequinesque writing, probable factual errors, intentionally stupid plot
Spoilers: None, I think
Word Count: 4774
Author's Notes: I was going to wait until I got home and could use my computer to post this. It's a fairly short part and nothing really happens. Cas meeting Sam is fairly anti-climactic and there's not nearly enough of the crew, so I wanted to revise/rewrite this (and use a spellchecker). I also hate posting via iPhone, but whatever. It'll be too long before I'm home and I can't be bothered to wait. So I'm sorry if this isn't as good as I would have liked and if there are a million mistakes. I'll try to correct the mistakes later.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but to the creators of Supernatural. I’ve just commandeered them for a while to play with them and will gladly return them when I’m done.
Summary: Dean is a dashing English privateer, making life difficult for the Spanish. Castiel is an officer in the Navy Royal. They meet at a ball and sparks fly, but their romantic evening is interrupted by a pirate attack. Dean is taken by the pirates and Castiel has to enlist the help of Dean's crew to save him.
Part 1 - An Officer And A Pirate
Part 2 - The Attack on Port Royal
Part Three - Family Don't End With Blood
Dawn came, grey and gloomy, and revealed in its pale light the destruction wrought by the pirates. It had been years since the town had suffered an attack this severe and hours after the small pirate fleet had left, the citizens were still reeling from the shock.
The buildings near the harbour were naturally the ones that had suffered the most damage; some of them were little more than smoking ruins, while others had gaping holes in their walls from the cannons. There were bloodstains and the odd body part littering the streets, but the thankfully few corpses had already been removed under cover of night. The town was quiet, the inhabitants still too frightened to leave the relative safety of their homes. The only people in the streets were soldiers and town officials, forced outside by duty and the Governor.
Zachariah was furious. His town had been sacked, his party had been ruined and his niece had been kidnapped. If the pirates had been aiming to offend him personally, they could not have done a more effective job. Also, as if this wasn't enough, as a parting gift, the pirates had set fire to some of the warehouses near Fort Walker on the south-western edge of town. Through some miracle, the soldiers had been able to contain it before it spread and ate through all the supplies stored in that area, but in the confusion and the chaos that this had caused, no ships' crews had gathered in time to pursue the pirates and so no one knew where they had gone. The handful of prisoners that had been caught alive were not talking and so far, no one had been able to offer a valid suggestion where to begin the search.
To top it all off, Zachariah's nephew, a Commodore of the Navy Royal and the one the Governor had intended to lead the hunt for the pirates, seemed to have vanished. No one had seen him since the night before, when he had been seen sneaking out from the party through the patio door. Zachariah would almost have been inclined to think that Castiel too had been kidnapped, but he suspected that that would be too much to hope. Undoubtedly, the fool had gone off on some private rescue mission to find his sister and play the hero, and if that were the case, Zachariah would be sure to teach him the consequences of such rebellion, once he found the little twerp.
Struggling to keep calm and not allow his fury to overflow, he turned to the person on his right, a large, beefy man with a bald head and a dour face, who wore the uniform of a naval officer.
"Commander Uriel", Zachariah addressed him, "I want you to assemble a crew and hunt these pirates down. I expect you to find them, using whatever means necessary. I want their leaders brought to me alive. The rest you will show no mercy. Is that understood?"
Uriel nodded gravely and saluted him. As usual, his face revealed nothing of his thoughts, but Zachariah thought he saw a glint of satisfaction in his black eyes.
"Yes, Governor!"
Zachariah nodded. He knew he could rely on Uriel. The Commander, though not the sort of person Zachariah would usually choose to associate with, had always seemed to share the Governor's fundamental values, far more than his nephew did. He knew that Uriel would not allow anything, be it man or conscience, to stand in his way. With Uriel on the job, it was only a matter of time before the pirates were brought to justice.
The Governor had turned to leave when he remembered something.
"Oh, and Commander", he said in the tone of an afterthought, "see if you can't bring back my niece alive. That would be all!"
*****
Sam stood on the quarterdeck of the Impala and looked out across the harbour. Most of the crew had returned to the ship after their time on shore had been cut short by the pirates. Some were a bit worse for wear, having been caught in the fighting, but no one was grievously harmed. In fact, most of them were in a far better state than they usually were after having spent a night in port and even Ash was semi-rational this morning. The only person that was still unaccounted for was the Captain and this made Sam worried.
It wasn't like Dean to stay away from his ship this long. Even on the occasions when he spent the night with one of his many bedfellows, he had always returned to his beloved Impala before dawn, claiming that she was the only lady in whose arms he cared to fall asleep. After a night like this one, he ought to have been among the first to return to ensure the safety of the ship and the crew. That he would voluntarily stay away this long was unthinkable and that meant that something had prevented him.
Surveying the damaged harbour, Sam felt the lump of fear in his stomach grow. What had happened to Dean? Had he been injured too badly to make it back to the ship or was it something even worse? Sam had heard the rumours about the Governor's niece and he knew that Dean had been with her last night. Dean may act all nonchalant and uncouth, but that wasn't who he really was. Dean cared about other people, perhaps too much sometimes, and if he saw someone in danger, he would not hesitate to step in, whether he knew them or not and regardless of the danger to himself. If he had been there when Anna Milton was taken, Sam dreaded to think what he might have done.
"Please don't have let yourself be killed, Dean!" he murmured.
Someone moved up to stand beside him at the rail.
"Looks like we've got a visitor", Bobby said, pointing to a small rowboat that seemed to be headed straight for them. It held a single man, who rowed towards them with strong and steady strokes. His back was towards them, so all they could ascertain about him was that his hair was dark and he wore a white shirt.
Sam frowned.
"Do you recognise him?" he asked.
Bobby shook his head.
"Never seen him before", he said. "By the looks of him, I'd say he's a sailor. No landlubber knows to handle a boat that smoothly. Judging by his posture, he's probably a naval officer."
"What would an officer of the navy want with us?"
Bobby shrugged.
"How should I know? Though I'd be willing to bet my next share of plunder, it has something to do with yer idjit brother. He never was content just to stir up trouble; it always has to be royal trouble. Some days I wonder why he's still the captain."
Sam gave him a reproachful look, but there wasn't much force behind it. Bobby threatened mutiny about once a day, but Sam knew he'd be the first to lay down his life for his captain. The quartermaster was as a father to both him and Dean and there was no one on the ship that Sam trusted more.
"Do you think he brings news about Dean?" Sam asked, trying to sound casual. Judging by the sharp look Bobby threw at him, he failed spectacularly.
"No, Sam!" the older man said. "Don't even think it! Dean's fine. An idjit he may be, but he's a capable one, more than able to get himself out of any mess he's landed himself in. Lord knows he's had enough practice."
Sam gave a weak smile at that, but the lump in his stomach had turned to lead. Something had happened to Dean; he could feel it deep in his gut, and it was no coincidence that on the day that Dean disappeared, a naval officer decided to pay them a visit.
He and Bobby walked over to the Jacob's ladder, which had been rolled up as a small measure of security. The small boat reached them soon afterwards and the man inside stood up on steady legs, confirming Bobby's assessment of him as a sailor. He grabbed the rope hanging from the side of the ship and tied his boat to it to keep it from drifting. Only then did he look up at the two men standing on either side of the rolled up ladder.
The first thing Sam noticed was that the man's eyes were very blue and very bright. The second thing he noticed was that the man's white shirt was very fine and undoubtedly made of silk, although it was torn and dirty well beyond any hope of repair. The third thing, which he noticed only after a motion of the man's free hand drew his attention to it, was that he wore an amulet around his neck. Dean's amulet.
Bobby's arm was across his chest before Sam had even had the time make the smallest move, otherwise he'd just have jumped into the boat with the man and probably sent them both crashing into the water. The strange man just looked up at them with the same calm gaze, as if Sam's attempted lunge and Bobby's prevention of it had been expected. When he finally spoke, it was in a deep, gravelly voice that belied his serene exterior with the urgency in its tone.
"You're Sam", he said, as if Sam hadn't known. "Dean sent me to find you. Please, I must speak with you! Will you allow me to come onboard?"
Sam glanced at Bobby. They were not in the habit of allowing strangers onboard without explicit knowledge of their purpose there, but if this man knew what had happened to Dean...
Bobby merely shrugged.
"You're the first mate", he said. "It's your call."
Sam nodded and looked down at the man again. Now that he knew to look for it, he could see the tension in the man's shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, the drawn lines of his mouth. There was a gash in his left shoulder and a bruise blossoming on his cheek. Whoever he was, he had definitely been involved in the battles of the previous night.
"Fine", Sam said, making his decision. "Come on up!"
He dropped down the ladder and watched as the man swiftly climbed it, until he was nearly at the top. Sam leaned down to grab his hand and pull him up onto the deck. Up close, the man's eyes seemed even brighter, although the rest of his face clearly showed his exhaustion.
"I would have come sooner", he said, "but I kept being - detained." He glanced at the wound in his shoulder.
Sam looked at it too and suppressed a wince. The gash was deeper than he'd thought and still bleeding.
"We should do something about that", he said and turned to his crew. "Has anyone seen the surgeon?"
"I think he's in his quarters", one of the crewmembers offered.
"Conscious?" Bobby asked. He was answered by a shrug. Sam sighed and barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
"Well, don't just stand there! Go and get him! Wake him if you can and tell him to come find us in the Captain's quarters! Tell him to bring his supplies!"
"Aye aye!" The crewman hurried off.
Sam turned to Bobby.
"I think you'd better come with us", he said. "I've a feeling you'll want to hear this."
*****
The Captain's quarters were located in a cabin on the quarterdeck in the aft of the ship. It had a number of small windows overlooking the waters behind the ship, which let in a fair amount of light, compared to the rest of the ship's innards. There were two bunk beds in the cabin, the second having been added when Dean inherited the ship and insisted that his brother would share his quarters. There was also a sort of desk, a table, two stools and a large chest, all of which had been securely nailed to the floor and walls.
Castiel sat on one of the bunks and tried not to grimace too visibly, while the ship's surgeon, a twitchy little fellow by the name of Shurley, sewed up his wound. Shurley had offered to simply clean and bind it until Castiel could return into town and find a real physician, but Castiel had informed him that he did not know when that would be and to just get on with it. He had not failed to notice the look that passed between Dean's brother and his quartermaster at that reply.
Shurley, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to his first mate's concerns. He had shrugged and set about his work, handing Castiel a near-empty bottle of rum from which to drink. Rum wasn't a very good anaesthetic at the best of times and the small amount left in the bottle did little more than quench Castiel's thirst. This certainly wasn't the first time he'd needed a wound sutured, but on the previous occasions, he'd usually had a bit more to drink and the surgeon a bit less. To be fair, Shurley's hands were surprisingly steady, but the same could not be said for his eyes. Castiel knew this scar would not look pretty, but he didn't really care. He simply clenched his jaws and hoped the man would be quick about his work.
"You said Dean sent you", Sam Winchester prompted when it became clear that Castiel would not speak.
Dean's brother was not what Castiel had expected. Dean was by no means a small man; he was tall and broad enough to make Castiel feel shorter and lighter than his average build. He had therefore expected the younger Winchester to be of a similar build to his brother. Naturally, he had heard the rumours stating that young Mister Winchester was a giant of a man, often claimed to be at least seven feet tall, but he'd heard similar rumours of Dean and so had put no credence in them. Now that he was sitting before Sam Winchester, who was towering over him, he could understand where those rumours had come from. It wasn't difficult to imagine the formidable impression this huge man must make on the already terrified sailors of the ships the Impala had captured. Frowning down at Castiel, his skin pale beneath the tan and his eyes dark and stormy, clenching and unclenching his fist as though struggling to contain himself, he was not a man that Castiel would choose to anger.
"He did", he ground out through clenched teeth, " in a manner of speaking."
He took a final swig of the rum as Shurley muttered,
"Almost done, just one more stitch."
The first mate and the quartermaster ignored the surgeon. They were both staring intently at Castiel and their expressions were not friendly.
"What the devil's that supposed to mean?" the quartermaster growled. He was a grizzled man with a lined, weather-beaten face that spoke of years on the sea, but with a warmth in his eyes that belied his rough exterior.
Shurley finished his work, tying and cutting the thread and put a cotton rag over the wound. Castiel nodded his thanks at him and the surgeon gave him a wavering smile, before turning his eyes to the other two men.
"If that would be all?" he said, plainly itching to get out of this tense situation.
His first mate nodded at him.
"Yes, thank you, Chuck!"
The man bowed his head and was out the door a moment later, muttering about rum. Castiel watched him go, wondering how best to explain the situation.
"Where is Dean?"
Sam Winchester made the decision for him, cutting immediately to the heart of the matter.
"I don't know. Gone. Taken."
"By the pirates?"
Castiel nodded.
"Together with my sister Anna", he said.
"The Governor's niece?" Another nod. "You're Castiel?"
Despite the circumstances, Castiel could not suppress a jolt of pleasure and his heart skipped a beat at the idea that Dean must have spoken about him to his brother. A fleeting thought crossed his mind to wonder what Dean had said, but it was quickly driven out by more pressing issues.
"I am", he confirmed and watched as another meaningful look passed between the two men. The younger man turned away, mumbling something that sounded like, "I knew it", while the older man shook his head, muttering, "Bloody idjit!" When they turned back to Castiel, it was the older man who spoke, his face severe and his arms crossed.
"Right!" he said. "I think you'd better tell us everything, starting at the beginning!"
*****
Dean woke up to find himself lying facedown on wooden boards. The gentle rocking motion of his surroundings confirmed that he was still onboard a ship. There was a pounding ache emanating from behind his eyes and his head felt as if it would split open with the slightest movement. The last thing he remembered was climbing up a Jacob's ladder onto the deck of one of the pirate ships and then someone had hit him over the head with something blunt and heavy. After that, everything was black.
With a groan of pain, he lifted his head and tried to open his eyes. His vision was a bit blurry and when he moved his head too quickly, he felt as if he would throw up. He raised a hand to touch the lump on his head and that was when he realised that he was not alone.
A man was sitting on the floor, just inside the angle of Dean's peripheral vision. He was dark and handsome, despite the fact that his head was covered with what looked like a few weeks of outgrowth and his beard could use some serious trimming. He was watching Dean with a strange expression on his face. He looked equal measures resigned and amused. When he saw Dean turn towards him, he spoke.
"It figures", he said. "When I finally get to see the infamous Dean Winchester behind bars, I'm sharing his cell."
Dean had finally managed to get his body into something resembling a sitting position, but he was still clutching his head in an effort to hold it together. He felt as though he was looking at the world through a veil of pain. The ability to think clearly was still a far way off.
"I'm sorry", he said. "Do I know you?"
The man gave a crooked grin.
"No", he replied, "but I know you. I've been hunting you and your crew for the better part of a year. Captain Winchester of the Impala. Privateer in the service of the English crown." He snorted. "Fancy words for the Governor's lapdog pirate."
Dean raised his head and glared at the man.
"I don't know who you are, mate, but you're dead wrong. I'm nobody's lapdog."
"And I'm not your mate", the man replied sharply. "But I notice you don't deny the pirate part."
Dean shrugged.
"I suppose it depends on who you ask. Still, it's a better job than most."
"Robbing poor sailors of their hard-earned money?"
"Robbing wealthy merchant companies of the profit they make through other men's sweat and labour", Dean corrected.
"It's still robbery", the man said, "not to mention murder."
Dean sighed and closed his eyes. This was not a conversation he wanted to have while he felt as if there were a hundred drummers using his brain to beat out different rhythms.
"I only kill the ones I have to", he replied, "and the ones who deserve it."
"The ones you have to? You wouldn't have to kill anyone if you had an honest job?"
Dean glanced at him with one eye.
"Pot? Kettle? Black? If you've spent the better part of the last year hunting me, I doubt your job is much more honest."
This seemed to provoke the man, who glared at him darkly.
"I hunt men like you to protect people from the grief and the suffering that you bring. I have dedicated my life to bringing pirates to justice and defending the innocent. I am nothing like you."
"And yet here you are, sharing my cell. Funny how life works, isn't it?"
The man stared at him for a moment, before turning away.
"Hilarious", he said.
"What ship are we on anyway?" Dean asks after a moment of silence. He doesn't like the fact that he has no idea who his capturers are. It gives them an unfair advantage.
The man eyes snapped back to his face and his expression was incredulous.
"You mean to say you don't know?"
Dean shrugged.
"I was at a party when these pirates barged in and took me and my lady. They didn't exactly stop to introduce themselves and I thought it might be rude to ask."
Still staring in disbelief, the man shook his head.
"So you seriously don't know who they are?"
"That's what I said."
The man shakes his head again.
"You're in such deep trouble; you have no idea. This is the Lilith, captained by the most fearsome man ever to sail the seven seas. Even you appear as a benevolent man in comparison. He'll torture you just for the pleasure of hearing you scream, has turned mutilation into an art form and knows how to keep his victims alive for days as they beg him to kill them. Murder gives him no satisfaction; it's too quick and painless. His fury is nothing; it's when he's happy you're doomed. I've heard rumours about him that would freeze the blood in yours veins and the worst part is they don't even come near the truth."
"He sounds charming", Dean said, struggling to keep his expression neutral. This was the man that had Anna? "I hope you'll be so kind as to introduce us."
The man chuckled grimly.
"Oh, don't worry, Winchester! I'm sure you'll make his close acquaintance."
"And does this charmer have a name?"
"His name is White. Captain Alistair White."
*****
Sam's frustration was mounting with every moment that passed without bringing them closer to finding Dean. He was standing in the captain's quarters looking out through one of the windows at the open sea beyond the harbour and wondering where his brother was. Shouldn't there be some brotherly bond to pull him in the right direction or at least to tell him if Dean was all right?
Behind him, Bobby was arguing with Castiel. It was weird having the Commodore aboard, talking about Dean as if he had a claim on him, as if he was part of Dean's family. Castiel hadn't told them anything about his and Dean's relationship besides letting them know that he had been with Dean when the pirates attacked, only to then be separated, but Sam wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines, and knowing what Dean's feelings were towards the other man, coupled with Castiel's tone, spelled out clearly exactly what they had been doing. It was typical of Dean to get involved with a man as headstrong and unrelenting as he himself was. Sam was not looking forward to having to deal with Dean during what he was sure would be numerous lovers' spats, if the two of them managed to beat the odds and actually be together. Then again, if he had to do that, it would mean that Dean was safe and happy, so maybe he wouldn't mind all that much.
The argument behind him continued. Castiel was adamant that they should speak to the Governor. It wasn't that he had some misplaced sense of trust in Zachariah that he would supply them with aid in their search, but after his brief conversation with his other uncle last night, he was convinced that his family knew more than they let on about the attack. He was all for interrogating them through any means necessary to get answers, but Bobby thought it too unlikely that they would know enough to make it worth the time and effort. Sam suspected that the older man's innate disdain for government officials might also have contributed to his refusal to go ashore.
Castiel was equally set against Bobby's suggestion, which involved trusting to the rumour mill. The quartermaster claimed that someone must know where the pirates made berth or at least have seen in which direction they had been headed; it was only a matter of asking the right people. During his many years on sea, he had made many contacts and he was prepared to make use of them, but just as he distrusted men of office, Castiel was mistrusting of pirates and averse to relying on their information. Thus their current situation of impasse.
"I don't care who the hell you are", Bobby growled, "but this ain't one of your ships, Commander, so you don't get to give the orders here."
Castiel's face remained as blank as it had been since he came onboard, but eyes blazed with fury.
"It's Commodore", he corrected in a cool voice, "and as far as I'm aware, it isn't your ship either. It's Dean's ship and in his absence, his brother gives the orders."
"You think I don't know that, you knuckleheaded mule? But this is our ship, our crew,
our captain we're talking about and you've no part in any of that. So why should we listen to anything you have to say?"
"Because my sister's life is also at stake and you're the only hope I have of finding her."
This reply, spoken in a quiet tone that seemed to reverberate in following silence far more than their hitherto raised voices, very effectively shut Bobby up. The older man may be crusty and irritable, but that didn't mean he was without empathy. Beneath his rough exterior beat a heart of purest gold and this reminder that Castiel had just as much reason as them to worry, as well as the implicit appeal in his statement, would be all that was needed to ensure Bobby's sympathy, if not his agreement.
"Fine", he muttered. "Why don't we leave the decision up to our acting captain? Sam?"
Sam sighed. He had known they would turn to him sooner or later and that he would have to make the decision. That didn't make it any easier. If he chose the wrong path to pursue, it could mean losing Dean - forever. Through their conversation with Castiel, it had become clear that the pirates had taken Dean on purpose; Sam just didn't know what that purpose could be. The only thing he was sure of was that it wouldn't end well for his brother, if they didn't find him soon. They had already wasted too much time arguing. It was time to act.
He turned to the two men. They were both watching him. Bobby stood with his arms crossed, trying to look unconcerned, but Sam knew how worried he was. Knowing the quartermaster as he did, he could see the tension in his body, the anxiety in his eyes. Castiel was harder to read. He looked calm, but his gaze was intense and his fingers kept moving where they hung by his side. Sam felt bad, knowing that held in his hands not just Dean's fate, but also that of Castiel's sister. Still, it couldn't be helped. He could only trust his instincts and they were telling him to put his faith in the man who had long been his only father figure and who had never let him down.
He turned to the two men, who were both watching him, trying to appear calm, but with apprehension and expectation clear in their eyes.
"I'm sorry, Castiel", he said. "We simply haven't the time to come up with a plan to get to the Governor or his brother, especially since we don't even know how much they could tell us. We're going with Bobby's plan. You're still welcome to come along, however, unless you'd rather try your luck on your own."
Castiel's shoulders seemed to slump even more and he lowered his gaze. He shook his head and Sam thought he was about to tell them that he was leaving, but when he raised his eyes again, there was a look of determination on his face.
"Very well", he said. "If you believe answers can be found in that... that den of iniquity, I can only pray that you are right. To Tortuga, then."
Part 4 - A Den of Iniquity
Author: anoradh
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Pirate!AU, romance
Warnings: Bad Harlequinesque writing, probable factual errors, intentionally stupid plot
Spoilers: None, I think
Word Count: 4774
Author's Notes: I was going to wait until I got home and could use my computer to post this. It's a fairly short part and nothing really happens. Cas meeting Sam is fairly anti-climactic and there's not nearly enough of the crew, so I wanted to revise/rewrite this (and use a spellchecker). I also hate posting via iPhone, but whatever. It'll be too long before I'm home and I can't be bothered to wait. So I'm sorry if this isn't as good as I would have liked and if there are a million mistakes. I'll try to correct the mistakes later.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but to the creators of Supernatural. I’ve just commandeered them for a while to play with them and will gladly return them when I’m done.
Summary: Dean is a dashing English privateer, making life difficult for the Spanish. Castiel is an officer in the Navy Royal. They meet at a ball and sparks fly, but their romantic evening is interrupted by a pirate attack. Dean is taken by the pirates and Castiel has to enlist the help of Dean's crew to save him.
Part 1 - An Officer And A Pirate
Part 2 - The Attack on Port Royal
Part Three - Family Don't End With Blood
Dawn came, grey and gloomy, and revealed in its pale light the destruction wrought by the pirates. It had been years since the town had suffered an attack this severe and hours after the small pirate fleet had left, the citizens were still reeling from the shock.
The buildings near the harbour were naturally the ones that had suffered the most damage; some of them were little more than smoking ruins, while others had gaping holes in their walls from the cannons. There were bloodstains and the odd body part littering the streets, but the thankfully few corpses had already been removed under cover of night. The town was quiet, the inhabitants still too frightened to leave the relative safety of their homes. The only people in the streets were soldiers and town officials, forced outside by duty and the Governor.
Zachariah was furious. His town had been sacked, his party had been ruined and his niece had been kidnapped. If the pirates had been aiming to offend him personally, they could not have done a more effective job. Also, as if this wasn't enough, as a parting gift, the pirates had set fire to some of the warehouses near Fort Walker on the south-western edge of town. Through some miracle, the soldiers had been able to contain it before it spread and ate through all the supplies stored in that area, but in the confusion and the chaos that this had caused, no ships' crews had gathered in time to pursue the pirates and so no one knew where they had gone. The handful of prisoners that had been caught alive were not talking and so far, no one had been able to offer a valid suggestion where to begin the search.
To top it all off, Zachariah's nephew, a Commodore of the Navy Royal and the one the Governor had intended to lead the hunt for the pirates, seemed to have vanished. No one had seen him since the night before, when he had been seen sneaking out from the party through the patio door. Zachariah would almost have been inclined to think that Castiel too had been kidnapped, but he suspected that that would be too much to hope. Undoubtedly, the fool had gone off on some private rescue mission to find his sister and play the hero, and if that were the case, Zachariah would be sure to teach him the consequences of such rebellion, once he found the little twerp.
Struggling to keep calm and not allow his fury to overflow, he turned to the person on his right, a large, beefy man with a bald head and a dour face, who wore the uniform of a naval officer.
"Commander Uriel", Zachariah addressed him, "I want you to assemble a crew and hunt these pirates down. I expect you to find them, using whatever means necessary. I want their leaders brought to me alive. The rest you will show no mercy. Is that understood?"
Uriel nodded gravely and saluted him. As usual, his face revealed nothing of his thoughts, but Zachariah thought he saw a glint of satisfaction in his black eyes.
"Yes, Governor!"
Zachariah nodded. He knew he could rely on Uriel. The Commander, though not the sort of person Zachariah would usually choose to associate with, had always seemed to share the Governor's fundamental values, far more than his nephew did. He knew that Uriel would not allow anything, be it man or conscience, to stand in his way. With Uriel on the job, it was only a matter of time before the pirates were brought to justice.
The Governor had turned to leave when he remembered something.
"Oh, and Commander", he said in the tone of an afterthought, "see if you can't bring back my niece alive. That would be all!"
*****
Sam stood on the quarterdeck of the Impala and looked out across the harbour. Most of the crew had returned to the ship after their time on shore had been cut short by the pirates. Some were a bit worse for wear, having been caught in the fighting, but no one was grievously harmed. In fact, most of them were in a far better state than they usually were after having spent a night in port and even Ash was semi-rational this morning. The only person that was still unaccounted for was the Captain and this made Sam worried.
It wasn't like Dean to stay away from his ship this long. Even on the occasions when he spent the night with one of his many bedfellows, he had always returned to his beloved Impala before dawn, claiming that she was the only lady in whose arms he cared to fall asleep. After a night like this one, he ought to have been among the first to return to ensure the safety of the ship and the crew. That he would voluntarily stay away this long was unthinkable and that meant that something had prevented him.
Surveying the damaged harbour, Sam felt the lump of fear in his stomach grow. What had happened to Dean? Had he been injured too badly to make it back to the ship or was it something even worse? Sam had heard the rumours about the Governor's niece and he knew that Dean had been with her last night. Dean may act all nonchalant and uncouth, but that wasn't who he really was. Dean cared about other people, perhaps too much sometimes, and if he saw someone in danger, he would not hesitate to step in, whether he knew them or not and regardless of the danger to himself. If he had been there when Anna Milton was taken, Sam dreaded to think what he might have done.
"Please don't have let yourself be killed, Dean!" he murmured.
Someone moved up to stand beside him at the rail.
"Looks like we've got a visitor", Bobby said, pointing to a small rowboat that seemed to be headed straight for them. It held a single man, who rowed towards them with strong and steady strokes. His back was towards them, so all they could ascertain about him was that his hair was dark and he wore a white shirt.
Sam frowned.
"Do you recognise him?" he asked.
Bobby shook his head.
"Never seen him before", he said. "By the looks of him, I'd say he's a sailor. No landlubber knows to handle a boat that smoothly. Judging by his posture, he's probably a naval officer."
"What would an officer of the navy want with us?"
Bobby shrugged.
"How should I know? Though I'd be willing to bet my next share of plunder, it has something to do with yer idjit brother. He never was content just to stir up trouble; it always has to be royal trouble. Some days I wonder why he's still the captain."
Sam gave him a reproachful look, but there wasn't much force behind it. Bobby threatened mutiny about once a day, but Sam knew he'd be the first to lay down his life for his captain. The quartermaster was as a father to both him and Dean and there was no one on the ship that Sam trusted more.
"Do you think he brings news about Dean?" Sam asked, trying to sound casual. Judging by the sharp look Bobby threw at him, he failed spectacularly.
"No, Sam!" the older man said. "Don't even think it! Dean's fine. An idjit he may be, but he's a capable one, more than able to get himself out of any mess he's landed himself in. Lord knows he's had enough practice."
Sam gave a weak smile at that, but the lump in his stomach had turned to lead. Something had happened to Dean; he could feel it deep in his gut, and it was no coincidence that on the day that Dean disappeared, a naval officer decided to pay them a visit.
He and Bobby walked over to the Jacob's ladder, which had been rolled up as a small measure of security. The small boat reached them soon afterwards and the man inside stood up on steady legs, confirming Bobby's assessment of him as a sailor. He grabbed the rope hanging from the side of the ship and tied his boat to it to keep it from drifting. Only then did he look up at the two men standing on either side of the rolled up ladder.
The first thing Sam noticed was that the man's eyes were very blue and very bright. The second thing he noticed was that the man's white shirt was very fine and undoubtedly made of silk, although it was torn and dirty well beyond any hope of repair. The third thing, which he noticed only after a motion of the man's free hand drew his attention to it, was that he wore an amulet around his neck. Dean's amulet.
Bobby's arm was across his chest before Sam had even had the time make the smallest move, otherwise he'd just have jumped into the boat with the man and probably sent them both crashing into the water. The strange man just looked up at them with the same calm gaze, as if Sam's attempted lunge and Bobby's prevention of it had been expected. When he finally spoke, it was in a deep, gravelly voice that belied his serene exterior with the urgency in its tone.
"You're Sam", he said, as if Sam hadn't known. "Dean sent me to find you. Please, I must speak with you! Will you allow me to come onboard?"
Sam glanced at Bobby. They were not in the habit of allowing strangers onboard without explicit knowledge of their purpose there, but if this man knew what had happened to Dean...
Bobby merely shrugged.
"You're the first mate", he said. "It's your call."
Sam nodded and looked down at the man again. Now that he knew to look for it, he could see the tension in the man's shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, the drawn lines of his mouth. There was a gash in his left shoulder and a bruise blossoming on his cheek. Whoever he was, he had definitely been involved in the battles of the previous night.
"Fine", Sam said, making his decision. "Come on up!"
He dropped down the ladder and watched as the man swiftly climbed it, until he was nearly at the top. Sam leaned down to grab his hand and pull him up onto the deck. Up close, the man's eyes seemed even brighter, although the rest of his face clearly showed his exhaustion.
"I would have come sooner", he said, "but I kept being - detained." He glanced at the wound in his shoulder.
Sam looked at it too and suppressed a wince. The gash was deeper than he'd thought and still bleeding.
"We should do something about that", he said and turned to his crew. "Has anyone seen the surgeon?"
"I think he's in his quarters", one of the crewmembers offered.
"Conscious?" Bobby asked. He was answered by a shrug. Sam sighed and barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
"Well, don't just stand there! Go and get him! Wake him if you can and tell him to come find us in the Captain's quarters! Tell him to bring his supplies!"
"Aye aye!" The crewman hurried off.
Sam turned to Bobby.
"I think you'd better come with us", he said. "I've a feeling you'll want to hear this."
*****
The Captain's quarters were located in a cabin on the quarterdeck in the aft of the ship. It had a number of small windows overlooking the waters behind the ship, which let in a fair amount of light, compared to the rest of the ship's innards. There were two bunk beds in the cabin, the second having been added when Dean inherited the ship and insisted that his brother would share his quarters. There was also a sort of desk, a table, two stools and a large chest, all of which had been securely nailed to the floor and walls.
Castiel sat on one of the bunks and tried not to grimace too visibly, while the ship's surgeon, a twitchy little fellow by the name of Shurley, sewed up his wound. Shurley had offered to simply clean and bind it until Castiel could return into town and find a real physician, but Castiel had informed him that he did not know when that would be and to just get on with it. He had not failed to notice the look that passed between Dean's brother and his quartermaster at that reply.
Shurley, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to his first mate's concerns. He had shrugged and set about his work, handing Castiel a near-empty bottle of rum from which to drink. Rum wasn't a very good anaesthetic at the best of times and the small amount left in the bottle did little more than quench Castiel's thirst. This certainly wasn't the first time he'd needed a wound sutured, but on the previous occasions, he'd usually had a bit more to drink and the surgeon a bit less. To be fair, Shurley's hands were surprisingly steady, but the same could not be said for his eyes. Castiel knew this scar would not look pretty, but he didn't really care. He simply clenched his jaws and hoped the man would be quick about his work.
"You said Dean sent you", Sam Winchester prompted when it became clear that Castiel would not speak.
Dean's brother was not what Castiel had expected. Dean was by no means a small man; he was tall and broad enough to make Castiel feel shorter and lighter than his average build. He had therefore expected the younger Winchester to be of a similar build to his brother. Naturally, he had heard the rumours stating that young Mister Winchester was a giant of a man, often claimed to be at least seven feet tall, but he'd heard similar rumours of Dean and so had put no credence in them. Now that he was sitting before Sam Winchester, who was towering over him, he could understand where those rumours had come from. It wasn't difficult to imagine the formidable impression this huge man must make on the already terrified sailors of the ships the Impala had captured. Frowning down at Castiel, his skin pale beneath the tan and his eyes dark and stormy, clenching and unclenching his fist as though struggling to contain himself, he was not a man that Castiel would choose to anger.
"He did", he ground out through clenched teeth, " in a manner of speaking."
He took a final swig of the rum as Shurley muttered,
"Almost done, just one more stitch."
The first mate and the quartermaster ignored the surgeon. They were both staring intently at Castiel and their expressions were not friendly.
"What the devil's that supposed to mean?" the quartermaster growled. He was a grizzled man with a lined, weather-beaten face that spoke of years on the sea, but with a warmth in his eyes that belied his rough exterior.
Shurley finished his work, tying and cutting the thread and put a cotton rag over the wound. Castiel nodded his thanks at him and the surgeon gave him a wavering smile, before turning his eyes to the other two men.
"If that would be all?" he said, plainly itching to get out of this tense situation.
His first mate nodded at him.
"Yes, thank you, Chuck!"
The man bowed his head and was out the door a moment later, muttering about rum. Castiel watched him go, wondering how best to explain the situation.
"Where is Dean?"
Sam Winchester made the decision for him, cutting immediately to the heart of the matter.
"I don't know. Gone. Taken."
"By the pirates?"
Castiel nodded.
"Together with my sister Anna", he said.
"The Governor's niece?" Another nod. "You're Castiel?"
Despite the circumstances, Castiel could not suppress a jolt of pleasure and his heart skipped a beat at the idea that Dean must have spoken about him to his brother. A fleeting thought crossed his mind to wonder what Dean had said, but it was quickly driven out by more pressing issues.
"I am", he confirmed and watched as another meaningful look passed between the two men. The younger man turned away, mumbling something that sounded like, "I knew it", while the older man shook his head, muttering, "Bloody idjit!" When they turned back to Castiel, it was the older man who spoke, his face severe and his arms crossed.
"Right!" he said. "I think you'd better tell us everything, starting at the beginning!"
*****
Dean woke up to find himself lying facedown on wooden boards. The gentle rocking motion of his surroundings confirmed that he was still onboard a ship. There was a pounding ache emanating from behind his eyes and his head felt as if it would split open with the slightest movement. The last thing he remembered was climbing up a Jacob's ladder onto the deck of one of the pirate ships and then someone had hit him over the head with something blunt and heavy. After that, everything was black.
With a groan of pain, he lifted his head and tried to open his eyes. His vision was a bit blurry and when he moved his head too quickly, he felt as if he would throw up. He raised a hand to touch the lump on his head and that was when he realised that he was not alone.
A man was sitting on the floor, just inside the angle of Dean's peripheral vision. He was dark and handsome, despite the fact that his head was covered with what looked like a few weeks of outgrowth and his beard could use some serious trimming. He was watching Dean with a strange expression on his face. He looked equal measures resigned and amused. When he saw Dean turn towards him, he spoke.
"It figures", he said. "When I finally get to see the infamous Dean Winchester behind bars, I'm sharing his cell."
Dean had finally managed to get his body into something resembling a sitting position, but he was still clutching his head in an effort to hold it together. He felt as though he was looking at the world through a veil of pain. The ability to think clearly was still a far way off.
"I'm sorry", he said. "Do I know you?"
The man gave a crooked grin.
"No", he replied, "but I know you. I've been hunting you and your crew for the better part of a year. Captain Winchester of the Impala. Privateer in the service of the English crown." He snorted. "Fancy words for the Governor's lapdog pirate."
Dean raised his head and glared at the man.
"I don't know who you are, mate, but you're dead wrong. I'm nobody's lapdog."
"And I'm not your mate", the man replied sharply. "But I notice you don't deny the pirate part."
Dean shrugged.
"I suppose it depends on who you ask. Still, it's a better job than most."
"Robbing poor sailors of their hard-earned money?"
"Robbing wealthy merchant companies of the profit they make through other men's sweat and labour", Dean corrected.
"It's still robbery", the man said, "not to mention murder."
Dean sighed and closed his eyes. This was not a conversation he wanted to have while he felt as if there were a hundred drummers using his brain to beat out different rhythms.
"I only kill the ones I have to", he replied, "and the ones who deserve it."
"The ones you have to? You wouldn't have to kill anyone if you had an honest job?"
Dean glanced at him with one eye.
"Pot? Kettle? Black? If you've spent the better part of the last year hunting me, I doubt your job is much more honest."
This seemed to provoke the man, who glared at him darkly.
"I hunt men like you to protect people from the grief and the suffering that you bring. I have dedicated my life to bringing pirates to justice and defending the innocent. I am nothing like you."
"And yet here you are, sharing my cell. Funny how life works, isn't it?"
The man stared at him for a moment, before turning away.
"Hilarious", he said.
"What ship are we on anyway?" Dean asks after a moment of silence. He doesn't like the fact that he has no idea who his capturers are. It gives them an unfair advantage.
The man eyes snapped back to his face and his expression was incredulous.
"You mean to say you don't know?"
Dean shrugged.
"I was at a party when these pirates barged in and took me and my lady. They didn't exactly stop to introduce themselves and I thought it might be rude to ask."
Still staring in disbelief, the man shook his head.
"So you seriously don't know who they are?"
"That's what I said."
The man shakes his head again.
"You're in such deep trouble; you have no idea. This is the Lilith, captained by the most fearsome man ever to sail the seven seas. Even you appear as a benevolent man in comparison. He'll torture you just for the pleasure of hearing you scream, has turned mutilation into an art form and knows how to keep his victims alive for days as they beg him to kill them. Murder gives him no satisfaction; it's too quick and painless. His fury is nothing; it's when he's happy you're doomed. I've heard rumours about him that would freeze the blood in yours veins and the worst part is they don't even come near the truth."
"He sounds charming", Dean said, struggling to keep his expression neutral. This was the man that had Anna? "I hope you'll be so kind as to introduce us."
The man chuckled grimly.
"Oh, don't worry, Winchester! I'm sure you'll make his close acquaintance."
"And does this charmer have a name?"
"His name is White. Captain Alistair White."
*****
Sam's frustration was mounting with every moment that passed without bringing them closer to finding Dean. He was standing in the captain's quarters looking out through one of the windows at the open sea beyond the harbour and wondering where his brother was. Shouldn't there be some brotherly bond to pull him in the right direction or at least to tell him if Dean was all right?
Behind him, Bobby was arguing with Castiel. It was weird having the Commodore aboard, talking about Dean as if he had a claim on him, as if he was part of Dean's family. Castiel hadn't told them anything about his and Dean's relationship besides letting them know that he had been with Dean when the pirates attacked, only to then be separated, but Sam wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines, and knowing what Dean's feelings were towards the other man, coupled with Castiel's tone, spelled out clearly exactly what they had been doing. It was typical of Dean to get involved with a man as headstrong and unrelenting as he himself was. Sam was not looking forward to having to deal with Dean during what he was sure would be numerous lovers' spats, if the two of them managed to beat the odds and actually be together. Then again, if he had to do that, it would mean that Dean was safe and happy, so maybe he wouldn't mind all that much.
The argument behind him continued. Castiel was adamant that they should speak to the Governor. It wasn't that he had some misplaced sense of trust in Zachariah that he would supply them with aid in their search, but after his brief conversation with his other uncle last night, he was convinced that his family knew more than they let on about the attack. He was all for interrogating them through any means necessary to get answers, but Bobby thought it too unlikely that they would know enough to make it worth the time and effort. Sam suspected that the older man's innate disdain for government officials might also have contributed to his refusal to go ashore.
Castiel was equally set against Bobby's suggestion, which involved trusting to the rumour mill. The quartermaster claimed that someone must know where the pirates made berth or at least have seen in which direction they had been headed; it was only a matter of asking the right people. During his many years on sea, he had made many contacts and he was prepared to make use of them, but just as he distrusted men of office, Castiel was mistrusting of pirates and averse to relying on their information. Thus their current situation of impasse.
"I don't care who the hell you are", Bobby growled, "but this ain't one of your ships, Commander, so you don't get to give the orders here."
Castiel's face remained as blank as it had been since he came onboard, but eyes blazed with fury.
"It's Commodore", he corrected in a cool voice, "and as far as I'm aware, it isn't your ship either. It's Dean's ship and in his absence, his brother gives the orders."
"You think I don't know that, you knuckleheaded mule? But this is our ship, our crew,
our captain we're talking about and you've no part in any of that. So why should we listen to anything you have to say?"
"Because my sister's life is also at stake and you're the only hope I have of finding her."
This reply, spoken in a quiet tone that seemed to reverberate in following silence far more than their hitherto raised voices, very effectively shut Bobby up. The older man may be crusty and irritable, but that didn't mean he was without empathy. Beneath his rough exterior beat a heart of purest gold and this reminder that Castiel had just as much reason as them to worry, as well as the implicit appeal in his statement, would be all that was needed to ensure Bobby's sympathy, if not his agreement.
"Fine", he muttered. "Why don't we leave the decision up to our acting captain? Sam?"
Sam sighed. He had known they would turn to him sooner or later and that he would have to make the decision. That didn't make it any easier. If he chose the wrong path to pursue, it could mean losing Dean - forever. Through their conversation with Castiel, it had become clear that the pirates had taken Dean on purpose; Sam just didn't know what that purpose could be. The only thing he was sure of was that it wouldn't end well for his brother, if they didn't find him soon. They had already wasted too much time arguing. It was time to act.
He turned to the two men. They were both watching him. Bobby stood with his arms crossed, trying to look unconcerned, but Sam knew how worried he was. Knowing the quartermaster as he did, he could see the tension in his body, the anxiety in his eyes. Castiel was harder to read. He looked calm, but his gaze was intense and his fingers kept moving where they hung by his side. Sam felt bad, knowing that held in his hands not just Dean's fate, but also that of Castiel's sister. Still, it couldn't be helped. He could only trust his instincts and they were telling him to put his faith in the man who had long been his only father figure and who had never let him down.
He turned to the two men, who were both watching him, trying to appear calm, but with apprehension and expectation clear in their eyes.
"I'm sorry, Castiel", he said. "We simply haven't the time to come up with a plan to get to the Governor or his brother, especially since we don't even know how much they could tell us. We're going with Bobby's plan. You're still welcome to come along, however, unless you'd rather try your luck on your own."
Castiel's shoulders seemed to slump even more and he lowered his gaze. He shook his head and Sam thought he was about to tell them that he was leaving, but when he raised his eyes again, there was a look of determination on his face.
"Very well", he said. "If you believe answers can be found in that... that den of iniquity, I can only pray that you are right. To Tortuga, then."
Part 4 - A Den of Iniquity