Fic: Keep Me In the Light, and I'll Save You From the Dark (Chapter Two)

[darkbluesharpie]

Chapter warnings: masturbation, kidnap, use of a taser, mentions of implied kidnap and gang-rape, mentions of cannon minor character death, attempted rape/non-con (not between our babies)
There is a graphic attempted rape scene in his chapter, so heads up on that if it's your trigger. I really just wanna get the angst out of the way so we can get closer to Dean and Castiel having consensual and fun smut, you feel me? Also, there is some Dean giving himself affection in here, so yay!
Author's Note: Thank you all so much for all of your encouragement! This was really just supposed to be some short adorable fluff with some glow-in-the-dark smut, but the whole thing just kind of got away from me. Anyway, I hope you all like it, and bear with me while I try and figure out this plot thing.

Despite all of the things that had happened, how different everything now was between the Winchesters, things went back to how they were within a month of Dean's departure. John stayed home and went to work, Sam returned to Stanford, and Dean continued his travels, picking up odd jobs along the way, and never staying in one spot for too long.

There were some differences, though. Once a week, every week, he placed a call to Sam and his father. He had to change out his phone every now and then, but if it meant contact with his family, Dean was more than willing to do it. Sure, last month had held a bad argument and a terrifying moment, but it had all worked out in the end, and the Winchesters were all the better for it.

He pulled into another motel on his last night in Iowa, where he had been a part time janitor at some independent pet store, and he was glad to be heading out, though the cash was pretty sweet. The warm shower did him a lot of good, and though he was tired from all of the driving, he was finding it hard to fall asleep.

There were a good handful of things that could help him when sleep avoided him; alcohol, late night TV, some combination of the two- but they weren't what he had in mind this time.

Dean was a healthy grown man with a healthy libido. He had urges and needs, even more than the average 24-year-old because of his virginity. Having to constantly suppress and deny himself physical pleasure every time there was an interest or an offer made him feel pent-up, and there was really only one way for him to safely unwind.

He had a whole system of safety measures. It was always better to take precaution, especially for him, and how much would it suck to get discovered for what he was while touching himself? So as to avoid such a fate, he went about with his pre-masturbatory routine; he double checked the curtains for any holes or gaps, and turned on all of the lights; he folded the comforter and placed it on the floor beside the bed before stripping completely and laying down in it, grabbing the other blanket from the mattress and throwing it over himself like a sleeping bag.

Setting himself on the floor behind the bed blocked him from view of the window, where as the lights ensured that he wouldn't stand out in the dark. But the blanket covering him- it had started out as a safety measure, but really, it was for his own enjoyment.

Deep arousal always made his skin thrum with light. Even now, with just the anticipation of what he was about to do make his skin itch with the urge to glow. Once he was completely concealed, he stopped holding back, and reveled in the pleasant sensation that was a Luministia's most notable feature. He looked down at himself and watched with wonder as his body lit up the darkness under the blanket.

He didn't know if it was some instinct that was instilled in all Luministia, or if it was just some weird kink of his, but Dean loved to watch himself glow in the dark, loved to see things covered in his light, especially when he did this. He took a few more moments to bask in his radiance, to enjoy the arousal singing in his veins and crawling on his skin before turning his full attention to his cock.

Dean's erection lay flat and heavy against his stomach, and he ghosted his fingertips over it, making him gasp lightly. Having no personal knowledge or experience, he could only guess, but he speculated that he was a bit more sensitive than most people at his age. With a few more feather light strokes, he teased himself until he couldn't stand it, and he reached down past his cock to between his legs to where he could already feel himself leaking.

Ever since puberty, whenever he got sexually excited, he produced some kind of slick from his entrance. It had surprised him when he found out not everyone did this- yet another thing he now knew that he could thank the internet for. Apparently, it was a trait reserved only for women and Luministia men, but it didn't bother him. Actually, he loved the feel of it, warm and slippery between his fingers, but the real pleasure came from using it on himself.

Biting his lip to keep back a moan, he placed his slick-drenched palm against his erection and gripped himself. At the first touch of the slick to his heated and bright cock, he felt an erotic tingling sensation, not unlike the kind he felt on his skin when he glowed, but far more pleasurable. Slowly, he started to move his fist up and down his length, gasping as the feeling of it grew with each movement.

While he worked himself over, his other hand took to teasing at his nipples, switching between light caresses and sharp pinches. Within moments, he was writhing on his make-shift bed, moaning from the pleasure his hands were bringing out of him.

The hand stroking him started to pump faster, twisting when it got to the tip, and Dean watched the head of his cock vanish and reappear in his wet fist. When he felt himself start to thrust up into his hand, he knew he was getting too close, and he reluctantly loosened his grip and slowed down; he wanted to draw this out, always finding the end result to be far more amazing when he built himself up longer.

He abandoned the assault on his nipples to reach down and grip himself at the base of his cock, pointing it up towards himself as the fingers on his other hand teased at the head. With his thumb, he gently worked into the slit at the tip, circling and pressing until he couldn't keep his sounds back anymore. His eyes went half-lidded as he groaned through his open mouth, and when he felt a rush of fresh slick drip from him, he reach down to catch some of it with his fingers.

There was a small smirk on his face at the anticipation before he pressed his slick-covered thumb back against the head of his cock, his other finger lightly massaging the sensitive underside as the sensation from his slick shot through him. He was moaning freely now, chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted, his skin brighter than it had been in what felt like forever. God, he loved the way this felt- there were few things he had ever experienced that felt as good as a natural glow, especially one this bright.

He looked down at himself, seeing the way his light reflected off of the blanket, the way his hands brought him so close to the edge, and he just felt. There were so few moments he had like this, where he could lay back and just enjoy himself.

Suddenly, his breath hitched, he felt his chest tighten, and he couldn't hold back anymore. Taking himself fully in his slicked fist again, he began to work himself fast and hard, his hips unable to keep from rocking up into it. He squirmed and he moaned and then finally, he threw his head back and his body spasmed as he came hard over his stomach.

And there was his reward.

It took him a moment to come back down from the high of his orgasm, but when he did, Dean smiled and took in the aftermath- no matter how many times he saw it, the sight of his come always amazed him. Just like his skin, it had a glow to it, the color opalescent and shimmery. He ran a finger over his abdomen, swiping some of it up and bringing it to his face. There were different colors in it when he moved his finger and it caught his glow, and after a little more admiration of the way it looked, he decided to appreciate it's taste.

Internet research had described the taste of semen as bitter and salty, and was said to be unpleasant. If that were true, then it must be another difference between the average male and a Luministia. Dean swirled his tongue around his finger, licking up every drop it held; it was hard to describe the taste of it as other than sweet. Once his finger was clean, he quickly reached down to get the rest of it before it had a chance to dry.

Why there was such information on the Luministia page on Wikipedia, Dean had no idea, but from it he learned that a Luministia's come was very good for the skin. It could even be used to treat rashes or infection, and it was rumored that women used to pay Luministia men to give them facials, because it reduced wrinkles and made them look younger. Dean had laughed so hard at that, his beer shot through his nose. But it did make him think- if only Luministia were allowed to live in peace, they could help so many people. Hell, Dean would gladly jerk off in a plastic cup if it meant someone didn't have to live with a life-long skin condition.

But he didn't want to dwell on things like that now. No, right now, he wanted to bask in his literal afterglow, as he cleaned his bright, shining stomach of his pretty, sparkly come.

He had been in good spirits when he went to the local bar a few days later. Passing through a small town in South Dakota, he thought he would treat himself to some socialization and drinks. It was your typical Saturday night bar scene, people crowding at the bar and around pool tables. He couldn't place his call to Sam until the nerd got back from the library, so he had some time to kill. He walked up to a table that had just ended a game, and after an hour, he had hustled more than two hundred dollars.

So it was turning out to be a good night.

Not wanting to push his luck or cause a drunken fight, he walked to the bar and ordered a beer. Tomorrow he would be heading to another town. Or maybe he would stick around here for a while- he had seen a help wanted sign in front of the local auto repair, and he knew a thing or two about being a mechanic; it would be good money doing something he enjoyed. Either way, the month wasn't as terrible as he thought it would be. Things were looking up. Everything was coming up Dean.

In his good mood, he hadn't noticed the man who joined him at the bar until he glanced at him.

"Please don't run," the man said, just as he had been about to sprint off towards the door.

Dean didn't know what kept him in place, kept him from knocking the tan coat-wearing stalker to the ground, and dashing to the safety of his Impala. Maybe it was the honest look in his desperate blue eyes, maybe it was the fear that this man knew what he was and could blow the whistle on him should he take off, turning one threat into a dozen. Either way, Dean stayed on his stool, keeping the stranger in his line of sight as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

"What do you want?" Dean said, surprised that he was able to keep his voice even.

"I just want to talk," the man said. He gave a small glance to the couple standing on the other side of Dean, who were too busy making it to second base to be eavesdropping on them, but he continued in a whisper. "I know what you are."

Dean gripped his beer bottle harder.

"Do you, now," he said with a forced smirk. "And what does that have to do with you?"

"It's not safe here," the man continued, ignoring Dean's question. "The hunter from the woods has been tracking you as well, and he's close. Please, you have to come with me."

It took actual effort not to laugh out loud at the man suggestion. How stupid did he think Dean was? He wasn't some gullible kid who would run into a man's van if he was promised candy.

"I know you don't believe me-"

"Good, then you can fuck off," Dean said.

"Please," he begged. "Please, he's on his way, you can't stay here-"

"I don't plan to," Dean growled at him. He placed a large bill on the counter for the bartender, and started to stand when the stranger's hand gripped his shoulder.

"Wait-"

He reacted instinctively, elbowing behind him hard in the direction of the man's face, and breaking his hold so he could take off out of the bar. He headed straight for the lot behind the building where he had parked his beloved car. There was no question, now- he couldn't stay here. Now that he knew he was being tailed by someone- possibly two someones- this town was no longer a potential, albeit temporary, home.

It was a shame, he might have liked it here.

The car keys slid into the lock to open the door, but before he could twist them, a heavy hand suddenly grabbed him from behind, covering his mouth with a cloth. In his shock, Dean had unwittingly gasped, breathing in the thin fumes coming from the rag. Everything went black as Dean passed out.

Tracking the Luministia had not been an easy task, but Castiel had kept at it vigilantly, fueled by the idea that there was someone else out there who might also be chasing him. He couldn't give up and leave him to the mercy of a hunter.

He knew better than to get too close- he didn't want to scare him off. He had to wait for the right moment to approach him, had to plan what he would say to convince the man to come with him.

So far, he was coming up short.

The Luministia, it turned out, was rather smart. He was always on the move, and covered his tracks well. There were a few times when he had vanished from Castiel's sight, and he had only managed to relocate him with of a combination of luck, instinct, and license plate tracking.

It was back in Iowa, when the Luministia was hiding out in yet another cheap motel, with Castiel watching from the parking lot, that he saw him.

Even though he hadn't gotten a good look at him in the dark that night, there was no mistaking the hunter from the woods. On alert now and wary, Castiel watched the man approach the Luministia's car, and held his breath when he walked up to the motel door.

Then the hunter left. Just like that.

The next day, Castiel followed the Impala and it's driver North, stopping at another motel in South Dakota. He watched carefully from a distance, and sure enough, and hour later, the hunter reappeared. Castiel was out of time. It was now or never.

It had been a long shot, but he had to try talking to him. The gesture of warning and the offer for help had earned him a sharp blow to the jaw. Cursing, he watched as the Luministia ran from the bar, and with a scowl and a quick adjustment to his coat, he followed.

Castiel ran out to the parking lot, but did not see the man right away. Scanning the area carefully for where he might have disappeared to, he heard a gasp and a brief struggle from somewhere behind him. Following the sound around the corner behind the bar, he watched as his quarry was subdued by the hunter he had tried to warn him about. With his arm pulled around the man's shoulder, the Luministia looked like he might be just another one who had had too much to drink as he was dragged to an unmarked white van.

There was a sick feeling in his stomach as he watched the scene unfold. His options were few and far between; he could run after him, try and fight him off, but there was no doubt that he would be armed, where as Castiel was not; he could call out that the man was being kidnapped, but the hunter might reveal the Luministia's true identity to the crowd; the safest bet he had was to follow them, without tipping off the driver, and hope that he got there in time.

Dean was in that dazed state of not-awake-but-not-quite-asleep. His head was throbbing, and something kept moving him. He wanted it to go away, he wanted to fall asleep, he wanted to keep his shirt on.

Green eyes snapped open as Dean's last memories came back to him- the blue-eyed man, the chloroform, the kidnapping- and he looked around. Or, at least, he tried to.

He was lying face down on a large bed shirtless, with his hands bound together and fastened to a thick and sturdy slat in the headboard. The effect of the knock-out drug was fading, but was still making him dizzy and lightheaded. Panic coursed through him and he shifted up onto his elbows on the bed to try and undo the bindings with his teeth. The rope was an inch away from his mouth when something gripped his ankle and yanked him back down the bed.

Turning his head, he watched as a man came into view- except it wasn't the one he had been expecting. The hunter from the lake climbed onto the bed, and Dean flinched away from him.

"Don't fucking touch me," Dean growled at him. The hunter only chuckled condescendingly at him before straddling the back of Dean's thighs. His strength was starting to come back to him, and he lashed out by kicking his heels up hard into the man's back. There was a satisfying grunt of pain as his foot connected with his attacker, who quickly moved and flipped Dean onto his back before he could kick out again.

"Hey, now," the man chided. "None of that." The hunter resumed his position on his thighs, and Dean watched with contempt as he fished into his pocket and pulled out two capped syringes. His eyes widened at the sight of them, and hard as he could, he struggled fruitlessly against his bonds.

"Easy, now," his captor shushed him. "This is just something to help you relax." Placing one of the needles on the nightstand beside the bed, the hunter uncapped the other and aimed in at Dean's upper arm. There was a sharp, cold sensation as the needle penetrated his skin, and the fluid shot into him. The effect of it was instant, and he felt himself involuntarily go lax.

When he felt it safe to do so, the man rolled Dean back over onto his stomach without him being able to resist.

"There, that's better."

The weight of his captor returned to his legs, and Dean tried to move his- something, anything, but his body continued to lay dormant and defenseless. He cringed when he felt rough hands flatten over his shoulder blades before running up and down his back.

"I know you're scared," he told Dean, sounding as if he were trying to comfort and soothe him while he continued molesting Dean's back. "But I'm not like the other hunters out there, I won't kill you. I don't wanna hurt you any more than I have to, any more than is necessary. Okay?"

This guy wasn't just evil, he was fucking crazy, Dean thought bitterly. He felt the bed shift as the man moved back and wrapped his fingers under the waistband of his jeans before pulling them down and off along with his boxers, leaving him fully exposed. When he resettled, he reached over him for the other syringe, and Dean whimpered, knowing what it must be.

The hunter only shushed him again before pinching a thick part of his thigh, and sticking the needle into the bunched skin. This one hurt a lot more than the muscle relaxant, and he hissed from the pain of it as the man rubbed firm circles over the injection site.

It took less than a minute for the effect of the drug to kick in, even with Dean doing everything he could to suppress it. The pins-and-needles sensation erupted all over his body, feeling artificial and stale compared to how it usually did, as his skin hummed with bright, silvery light.

"So beautiful," the man whispered, his voice thick with awe and amazement and his fingers traced over every inch of Dean he could reach. Dean felt like he was gonna throw up, his nausea growing with each touch.

The small click of a bottle opening caught his attention then, and he strained his ears to pick up on what might be coming next for him. When a hand placed a bottle of lube on the nightstand next to the used syringes, fresh fear ripped through him.

"Please," he begged, and he realized he was crying then. "Please don't do this. You don't have to do this."

"Don't worry, Angel," the man crooned at him. "I'm gonna make this good for you, don't worry."

He choked out a sob when he felt the first finger slide in, wet and cold against his warm and radiant skin. It didn't hurt so much as it made him feel sick when the hunter pumped it in and out of his paralyzed body. As he wasn't aroused, he wouldn't be able to produce his own slick, and the lube being used on him felt so different from his own natural lubricant- everything about this felt so unnatural, and he hated it. The movements were slow, the cruel man being gentle with him for the time being, and soon, another finger was pushed into him, working him open for the horrific act that was to come.

Tears streamed freely down Dean's face and his body shook around stuttered breaths. Dean had never been the romantic type, never believed his first time would be with someone who swept him off his feet, someone who would understand what he was and would want him, not his powers, not just any Luministia.

He never imagined much about his first time, never really believed he would even have one, but when he did, it was gentle and perfect and with a lover. Not a rapist. He would rather die a 150-year-old virgin than experience what was happening to him.

The insertion of the third finger forced him out of his thoughts, the stretch of his rim painful now. After a few more movements, the hand was removed, and the body left the bed, and for the smallest moment, he thought it might be over. He didn't have long to hope, however, before he heard the ruffling of clothing being removed.

"I can't wait anymore," the man said breathlessly. "I have to have you now."

Dean trembled as the man climbed back onto the bed and settled between his knees, spreading his legs farther apart. Rough hands gripped his ass cheeks hard and pulled them open. This was it. Dean shut his eyes tight and buried his face into the pillow, gritting his teeth as he tried to block out everything around him. He tried to concentrate on a happy thought for distraction, a memory that he could focus on until the moment was over, but nothing was coming to him. Memories of his mother were tainted by guilt, while thoughts of Sam and his father made Dean feel bitter for making him ever go to the cabin in the first place.

There was nothing. It was like being empty, not having a single happy moment that he could recall on when he so desperately need one.

He held his breath and grit his teeth as he felt the head of the man's cock nudge his slick and stretched hole. Every inch of his body froze in anticipation for the inevitable penetration.

The pressure against his entrance grew as his rapist leaned forward, and then, with a loud grunt, he suddenly spasmed as a sharp, crackling noise rent the air. The hunter fell on his face beside Dean before he rolled off of the bed.

Confusion over took his gripping fear as he looked over his shoulder at where the hunter disappeared. Sudden movement from behind him caught his eye and he struggled to turn towards it before he froze again.

His glow reflected off of the blue-eyed man's body, standing beside the bed as he looked down at Dean's helpless form, and it was all Dean could do to stare up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He knew better by now than to let himself hope, knew better than to entertain the thought that his attack was over, that this other man might want to save him, and not want to commit the horrific act himself. He knew better than that, but still...

They stayed like that for a fleeting moment, each just staring at the other, before the stranger seemed to come to his senses.

"I'm sorry," he said as he stepped closer to Dean. "But I have to do this."

Dean watched as he reached towards him with a small black device, and terror shot through him as with a whimper, he tried to squirm away from the taser. Electricity jolted through him, making him he spasm until everything went black and he welcomed unconsciousness.

Dean did not want to move. The whole world was soft and warm and safe. He felt too heavy and too light at the same time, like he could float away if only someone would untether him. Sleep still tugged defiantly at his brain, despite the feeling that he had been unconscious for a long time. He sighed softly, and shifted where he laid.

Without opening his eyes, he could tell he was glowing faintly, his skin warm and humming pleasantly with light, and something at the back of his mind was insisting he stop it immediately, but he felt so warm, and he was so tired, and this bed was so soft-

With a small sound, he forced his eyes to open and focus- because Dean was in a bed. A big, soft, not-in-a-motel, bed. But what...?

Suddenly, the last twenty-four hours came back to him in a whirlwind of panic and fear, and he sat bolt-upright. The fast movement cause his vision to go temporarily hazy with the sudden blood rush, and he pressed his hand to his forehead with a groan, going still for a moment until his sight came back to him. With a few blinks, the room came into focus and he glanced around.

With a start, he realized he wasn't alone. The blue-eyed stranger sat in a chair next to the bed, watching him warily a few feet away. His brain screamed at his body to jump into action, to search for a weapon, to get up and run the hell away, but he couldn't move for fear. It was made even worse by the fact that he was still glowing, not as brightly as before- and it had dimmed considerably since he had woken up- but there was still a faint shimmer to his skin just enough to be noticeable.

He watched with trepidation as the blue-eyed man started to lean towards him.

"Stay the hell away from me," Dean whispered, trying to sound as threatening as he could while folding in on himself to make him look as small as possible.

The blue-eyed man sighed, and Dean thought he sounded tired.

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you," he said, keeping sad and honest eyes on Dean, who just watched him with a frown. "I had tried to protect you from that- from him. I was so worried that I had gotten there too late." The man gave him a small barely-there smile. "But that's over- you're safe now."

"Safe?" Dean snapped? "I'm supposed to be safe here? With the freak whose been stalking me for the past month, the guy who used a fucking stun-gun on me?"

Blues eyes darted to Dean's side, and he looked down. It was only then that he realized he was wearing clothes- not his own, these were loose and comfortable like pajamas, and when he shifted he could feel a bandage covering where there was surely a burn mark.

"That," the man said ruefully, not meeting Dean's resentful gaze. "Was unfortunate."

There was a small pause at that.

"'Unfortunate.'" Dean repeated with a deadpanned voice. "Really, that's what you're going with?"

"I had no choice-"

"Oh," Dean put his hands up in mock surrender, his voice radiating anger and barely disguised fear. "Well then that just makes it okay, doesn't it?"

There was another still moment as the blue-eyed man looked at him in consideration, assessing him, before he suddenly stood up. Dean sputtered and flinched at the movement, but instead of lunging towards him, or moving to strike Dean, he simply walked towards the door.

"Where are you...?" Dean started, but he lost his nerve and the sentence tapered out.

"It is clear to me that I will not be able to speak with you while you are like this," he said matter-of-factly. "You have just been through a great personal trauma, both emotionally and physically. I believe you will benefit from a second alone with your thoughts."

His hand started to twist the door nob, but he turned to face Dean before opening the door.

"I want you to know that you are not a prisoner here," he said. "You are free to leave at any moment should you choose to do so. I am confident that this is the safest place that you could be, but if you do not wish to stay, I will not make you. All I ask is that, before you leave, you come and speak with me. When you are ready, I will be downstairs with breakfast."

With that, the blue-eyed man turned and left the room, leaving Dean with his mouth hanging open as he closed the door.

It had been such a long night. What Castiel really wanted to do as he walked into the kitchen and scrambled some eggs, was go back upstairs to his master bedroom, and go to sleep. But while his body ached with exhaustion, his mind was alert and ecstatic. He had done it- after a long month of (he cringed at the word) stalking, he had finally brought the Luministia here.

It wasn't in the way he had hoped for, but he didn't have the patience to be upset about that now. There were a lot of ways last night could have gone, and though the reality of what had transpired was far from favorable, he knew personally that it could have been so much worse. Now, the Luministia was upstairs in his guest bedroom, safe and alive, and that was something to be grateful for.

He had almost gotten there too late. The white van had taken a sharp corner, and Castiel couldn't catch up to it before getting stuck at a stop light. There were several minutes of panic where he had thought he had lost them, but he followed his instinct, and took a chance turn down a secluded dirt road that lead to a small house far from anywhere. When he saw the white van in front, he had been so relieved, but his night was far from over.

Turned out he had gotten there just in time. When he opened the bedroom door and saw what was being done, a rage shot through him, and he may or may not had stunned the hunter a lot longer than was absolutely necessary. And then again before leaving, just in case.

The look of fear and desperation the Luministia had fixed him with was one that would stay with him for a long time. He hated that he had had to stun him too, but he just didn't see anyway he was going to be able to convince the bright man to come with him, especially not when he was so frightened, and stuck in a glow. Castiel was so careful with him when he undid his bindings, wrapped him in his overcoat, and carried him to his SUV, the tinted windows in the back guarding him from view of potential threats.

From there, he treated him- the bruises, and the burn mark from his taser, wrapping each injury as gently and quickly as he could. Castiel had witnessed for himself that Luministia healed much faster than the average human, that he didn't really need to treat and bandage his wounds, but he couldn't leave him like that. After he was finished, he laid him in the back seat, fastened a seat belt around his waist, and got them both out of there- time was an issue, and he wanted to be as far away from here as possible before the hunter woke up.

There was a hope, a small one, that the hunter would assume Castiel had taken the Luministia and claimed him for himself before his glow dimmed, and thus would stop hunting him, but he was taking no chances. His house was far in the mountains of Colorado, secluded and protected, the perfect safe haven for a Luministia, though it hadn't been used as such in years. It was here that he brought the radiant, beautiful man, still unconscious from all of the physical exertion that night.

The sky was just starting to turn brighter with sunrise still a few hours away when he laid the Luministia down in his guest bedroom. Castiel knew that he would be terrified when he woke up, knew that he would fear the man who had saved him, and he couldn't blame him; after spending so many years on the run, living his whole life afraid of being assaulted, of course he would be reluctant to trust- to believe- that someone wanted to help. He didn't know how he was going to convince him that he only wanted to do just that, but he would worry about that later. For now, the Luministia was asleep and peaceful, safe and warm.

Castiel had decided to stay in the room and watch over him, not wanting him to wake up alone not knowing where he was. God, he was so beautiful, he couldn't help but stare at him. Even without his glow, when Castiel had watched him from afar, he had thought him attractive, but like this- he knew it wasn't genuine, that it was an artificial glow caused by some drug, but he was so bright, and the whole room was illuminated by his presence. It was a breathtaking sight.

Hours crept by, and sleep called to Castiel but he didn't leave. He had to wait. Sure enough, around ten in the morning, the Luministia stirred on the bed, and Castiel almost smiled at the sound of contentment he made before he awoke with a jolt.

As he had predicted, his rescue did not get the thank you it deserved, but he couldn't be upset. If anything, he was glad he wasn't attacked- Luministia were naturally strong by nature, and this one looked like he had some muscle on him. The drugs would have worn off by now, so it wasn't like he would have been too weak.

Castiel hated the way he looked at him, with resentment through swollen tear-stained eyes that had expected the worst from him. He could see his inner struggle, especially when the Luministia saw that he was still glowing, and he could only imagine how unsettling and unnatural it must have felt. There was so much the young man had to deal with, so much to think about.

So Castiel went downstairs and made eggs, giving him the offer, and leaving him to think about it. There was a tight ball in his chest that he identified as anxiety, and he hoped with all of his might that the Luministia would choose to stay. If he still did such things, he might have even prayed for it.

His mind was reeling. What had just happened? Did his kidnapper just offer him a safe haven? Was he supposed to be serious? There were so many conflicting thoughts in his head, he felt like it was going to explode.

Dean couldn't move. He stayed on the bed and tried to clear his head so he could think this through properly. Last night... that was surely a nightmare. But as he recalled, no permanent physical damage was done- he might be scarred mentally, but his virginity was still intact. And that stranger, the one who brought him here- he had been the one to stop it. He had rescued him.

Not that that meant anything if he was going to keep Dean here, and attack him later. But then a little voice of reason played devil's advocate- if the blue-eyed man was going to hurt him, why didn't he do it last night? Dean was unconscious, so it wasn't like he could have fought back, and he had already been forced into a glow... Even now, as Dean looked at his hands, he could still see a weak light. If he was going to be attacked, it would have already happened. Ergo, the blue-eyed man was not going to hurt him. He had even told Dean that he could leave if he wanted to.

But then why even bring him here? If the stranger wasn't interested in a Luministia's powers, why kidnap one and bring it to his house? Why follow one across states? Why risk his life saving one from a hunter?

Dean had questions, and he wanted answers. There was only one place he was going to get them, and it was sitting downstairs with breakfast.

He couldn't go down, though, not yet. Quietly as he could, he got up and tiptoed to the door, peaking out, and when he saw no one around, he inched over to the bathroom near by. Once inside, he closed and locked the door.

He almost didn't recognize himself when he looked into the mirror. He was paler than usual, his eyes slightly swollen from the crying, and everything about his expression showed how tired he felt. Turning on the tap, he splashed from water over his face, hoping it would make him feel more awake and alert.

If he was being honest, he didn't see the harm in talking to the guy, and he was pretty hungry. That's what he would do- eat and ask his questions, and once he got the answers he was looking for, he would leave. Years of distrusting strangers had caused him to develop certain habits, however; he was not naive, and he wouldn't simply take this guy at his word- just because he promised Dean's freedom, didn't mean he would be allowed to walk out of here with no conditions. Looking around the bathroom, he spotted a pair of scissors in a drawer, and he tucked them into his waistband; if Dean decided to leave, he was prepared to fight his way out. He was never going to experience a repeat of last night, he would make sure of that.

When his glow finally went out a few minutes later, he took a deep breath, and left the bathroom.

It was a pretty nice house. Even in his unease, Dean could appreciate the spaciousness and the easy decor. This was a place of comfort over looks, which he could respect, and though everything was clean, it had a very lived-in look. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he caught the smell of eggs and bacon, and he followed his nose through a few rooms until he found the breakfast sitting on a wooden dinning table.

The blue-eyed man could be heard moving around in the kitchen, until his footsteps grew louder and he appeared in the walkway between the rooms. He froze when he saw Dean, as if surprised to have seen him there so soon. Dean watched him with wariness- ready to take off at a moment's notice should he make any sudden moves- as the stranger set two mugs next to the plates. He seemed to sense Dean's unease, and he moved with slow and easy to predict motions.

"I hope you like coffee," he said clearly, as if kidnapping people and making them breakfast the next morning was perfectly normal for him. "But if you don't, I also have different teas, and orange juice and milk-"

"Um," Dean interrupted. "Coffee's fine."

The man nodded at him before taking a seat and offering a gesture for Dean to do the same. Apprehension in every movement, Dean pulled out a chair and took a seat behind a plateful of scrambled eggs. There were also five stripes of bacon, and a side plate of toast. At the sight of so much food, his stomach rumbled, and he was suddenly reminded that his last meal had been yesterday afternoon, and consisted of a cheap burger on-the-go.

There was an awkward pause while the blue-eyed man across the table stared at him, and for a moment, Dean thought he was about to ask him to say grace. Despite his hunger, he waited until his host took a bite himself before taking a forkful of egg. He had entertained the idea that his food and drink might have been tampered with, but he reasoned, as he took a large gulp of delicious black coffee, there would have really been no point in him knocking Dean out with poison if he had a perfectly effective taser on hand.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Questions upon questions lined themselves up in his head, each one wanting to be asked first, but he didn't know where to start. Luckily, the decision were made for him. With a sigh, the blue-eyed man sat up straight and looked at him.

"You must have many questions for me," he started. Dean just watched him, and waited for him to continue. "I will answer anything you ask."

Dean stood still for another moment, regarding and assessing him before he put his fork down.

"Alright," he said, and he started with the first thing that came to his mind. "I'm guessing you've been following me since I ran into you back in Kansas." The stranger stayed quiet, and Dean took that as confirmation. "Which means you've been stalking me for a month, and now you've kidnapped me. But you don't seem to be much interested in my, uh- abilities. So I guess... what do you want?"

The man stayed quiet for a moment, eyes eyes moving down in thought, before looking back at him as he answered.

"I want you to be safe," he said. "I know how dangerous and difficult it can be for Luministia out there, especially those who have been discovered, who are being hunted. I wanted to find you so that I could offer you a safe place to stay."

"And what, you couldn't just say that?"

"If you recall," the blue-eyed man responded with raised eyebrows. "I tried to, right before you were grabbed. You elbowed me in the face."

Oh, yeah.

"Well, how was I supposed to know you weren't another hunter?"

"There is no need to be defensive. I understand why you reacted the way you did, especially after what was happening to you when you first saw me."

Dean remembered it perfectly, that night at the lake; the tainted dart that had forced his glow, causing him to shine like a beacon in the darkness of the woods, the hunt that had made him run for his life until he nearly trampled the tan coat wearing stranger.

When the same man approached him at the bar, he had assumed the worst- another hunter, ready to take him, to claim him, to force him down and bend him over and grant himself 'worthy' of a Luministia's powers. But instead, here he was- making him breakfast. After saving him from a real hunter. And offering him a safe haven. And asking for nothing in return.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry?" the blue-eyed man furrowed his eyebrows at him in confusion.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, and even though his stomach was twisting with uncertainty, his voice was steady. "Why are you helping me? You can't be doing it for nothing- you have to want more than just my safety. That can't be it. No one does everything you've done just to be nice."

The blue-eyed man went quiet for a long moment at that, and this time he kept his eyes down when he spoke.

"My brother was a Luministia."

Dean did not miss that past-tense of that statement. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but empathy wasn't it, and he stayed silent as he waited for the man to continue.

"His name was Samandriel. We were close," the blue-eyed man looked up at him then. "Would you like to see a picture of him?"

At Dean's small nod, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, retracting a small piece of paper from one of it's folds. He watched as the blue-eyed man smiled at it, and there was so much affection in that brief expression before he handed it over to Dean.

It was a small picture of two boys. The man sitting in front of him was easy to identify on the right, his mess of near black hair almost the exact same as it was now. He was smiling nervously in the old photo, as if camera shy.

The other boy in the picture was the exact opposite; he was grinning widely at the camera, mouth open in a permanent laugh, with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of his brother. Dean saw he had the same bright, blue eyes as the man in front of him, but it wasn't the most noticeable feature of the photo. It was the unmistakeable glow. The younger boy with the confident, laughing face was shining, bright and happy.

And suddenly, Dean understood.

"He was always so happy, even when he knew the risks, knew he had to live a sheltered life in case someone saw," he took the photograph back when Dean handed it to him. There was another pause as he stared at it, and Dean thought he saw something broken in his expression when he returned it back to his wallet. His voice was quiet but steady when he continued.

"I don't know what happened, not really. I knew there were hunters involved." Dean winced at the plural. "We were traveling, and they broke into our house in the middle of the night. I was knocked unconscious, and when I woke up... it was too late. He was gone." The man paused as he swallowed, and his voice grew angry, and bitter. "He was only fourteen."

A long silence followed as the blue-eyed man composed himself, and Dean stayed quiet out of respect. He imagined it had been a long time since the man had talked about this. Dean felt sick to his stomach at the story, and he tried not to think about what might have been done to the happy, glowing boy from the picture. When he had finished gathering himself, the blue-eyed man continued, looking Dean in the eyes.

"I'm not helping you just because I want to be nice," he said calmly. "I'm helping you because of my brother. I couldn't protect him, but maybe, if you'll let me, I can protect you, keep you safe. It's what he would have done, what he would have wanted me to do."

He didn't need anymore explanation, didn't need to ask for any proof. It was enough.

Dean believed him.

"Just one more question," Dean said.

"Of course, anything."

Dean gave him a small smile. "What's your name?"

The blue-eyed man returned his smile as he replied.

"My name is Castiel."

"Hey there, Cas," Dean said, offering his hand. "I'm Dean."

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replied, taking his hand in his own and shaking it.

They finished their breakfast quietly, and sure it was still a little awkward, and Dean had no idea how this was going to play out, or if was going to work. But for the first time in far too long- since a blonde haired, kind faced woman baked him pie and read him bedtime stories- he felt safe. He didn't have to run, and he wasn't being chased. If there was even the smallest possibility that he could have what he was being promised, it was worth a try, right?

Masterpost I  Chapter One I  Chapter Three