Stockholm Syndrome ch. 1/?
Title: Stockholm Syndrome
Author: earth_heart
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter
Genre: Dark!fic, kidnapping, demons and angels
Warnings: Slight abuse, weakened angel, D/s themes
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters do not belong to me, they belong to Eric Kripke and the CW/WB. I make no profit from this story.
Summary: Stockholm Syndrome: -noun Psychiatry . an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival. In which Dean is a demon who kidnaps the angel Castiel because he wants him, and Castiel comes to love Dean because he can’t remember anything but the demon.
--------------------------
Chapter 1: The angels lose a soldier
Dean lay sprawled across the ground, his green eyes half-shut as a contented purr rumbled up from his throat. Behind the demon a long tail twitched and twined through the grass. It had a pointed tip, and was covered in short soft fur the same color as his dirty blonde hair. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of specially-made jeans, which had a clasp and ties that went up around his tail to give it complete and free movement.
A sound nearby stirred him from his doze, and he looked up in time to see his brother melt out of the ground nearby. Sam looked exactly as a demon should; large and heavily muscled, taller than most of the others. Of course, his hazel eyes were too wide, his smiles too gentle and innocent. He had strength, though, and in a battle Dean was proud to have his younger brother on his side.
“Anything?” Dean hummed, rolling over to scratch idly at his stomach as he grinned up at Sam. The larger demon looked down at him, his shoulders tense. It was a sure sign of trouble, and Dean stopped smiling. “What happened, Sammy?”
“Angels.” the demon growled, his face twisting into a scowl as he sat beside Dean and glared up at the sky. “Some of Azazel’s minions met up with angels. Ava, Andy, Max, and Jake are all dead.”
Dean whistled, his eyebrows rising. Those four were some of Azazel’s favorites, and they were powerful. To hear that they were gone was not a reassuring thing. “Damn. I feel bad for old Yellow-Eyes.” he murmured, shaking his head. At least Azazel still had Sammy, and his brother was the fallen angel’s favorite pupil; and with good reason.
The sun was bright despite it being the middle of December on earth. There was a definite chill in the air, but no snow on the ground. Cold was not something the brothers had to deal with, however; being demons meant that their internal temperatures were high, and they never got cold.
“What are you even doing up here, Dean?” Sam asked scornfully, glaring around at the dead landscape that rolled away before them. “Why come to such a dead place, full of so many weak, useless souls?”
In response, Dean rolled his shoulders in a shrug as he scratched at the side of his face. “Dunno, Sammy. Sometimes it’s just nice to get away from all the Hellfire. The souls on the rack can get really, really annoying with all their whining and bitching. Alistair might enjoy it, but I’d rather not have to listen to that, thank you.” Alistair was Dean’s teacher, and the master torturer of Hell. Not to say that Dean didn’t enjoy his job, because any new demons were always welcome and the process of making them was quite enjoyable. He had his moments though- like now- where he liked to just get away and enjoy some peace that wasn’t brought from the screams of the Damned.
“Well, Alistair’s looking for you.” Sam retorted; his tail coming around to curl with Dean’s in an obvious sign of affection. “Azazel sent me to bring you back.”
“Of course.” Dean rumbled, rolling back over to shove himself up. Standing, he was at least four inches shorter than the other demon, but that never stopped him from being the older brother. He was stronger than Sam, and while he wasn’t as large, he still had muscle and strength. “He probably has some new toy he wants me to help him carve up.”
“Which you never will.” a voice rumbled from behind them, high-pitched and dangerous. The brothers winced at the trill and whirled around to face the angel who was suddenly standing there. He glared at them with blue eyes filled with hate, his wings unfurled behind him and spread in an obvious display of aggression. He was dressed as all angels, in an elegant white shirt and white slacks, the hemlines trimmed in gold.
He was beautiful. Dean stared at the creature, his breath stuttering to a halt in his throat as he looked him over. Sam’s shout of his name snapped him out of his daze and he looked at his brother. The larger demon was eyeing him, waiting for his silent signal to attack, or go and fetch reinforcements.
Flicking his tail in an intricate pattern that meant ‘go get others’, Dean waited for his brother to vanish back through the ground before he turned to the angel. The creature had lunged forward when Sam left, and Dean darted to block his path. The angel snarled and pulled a blade from nowhere, and Dean smiled as he unsheathed his own weapon.
Their swords met and clashed, and the demon purred in delight as he caught his attacker’s scent. He smelled like rain and storms, underlain by a rich, earthy scent. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he smirked, using his strength to force the angel back. He caught sight of the sigil scrawled into the sleeve of the angel’s shirt, and grinned even wider. So, this was a Seraph, all the better.
“You will perish, demon.” the Seraph hissed, his true voice almost enough to make Dean cringe. He didn’t, though, gritting his teeth and blocking another thrust. Expertly he twisted their blades together, causing them to both stand chest-to-chest.
“Aw, that’s cute, pumpkin.” he purred, rubbing his nose over the angel’s slightly-stubbled cheek, both to drag in another whiff of his smell and to anger his foe more. “Thinking you can defeat me. ‘M a little above your pay grade, angel.” He wasn’t, but there was no reason for the angel to know that. Dean was a powerful demon, but he wasn’t as powerful as the Seraph.
The angel snorted in disbelief. “You lie horribly, filth. I am a weapon of God, and I am an angel. I know exactly how strong you are, and you are not above me.”
Dean grinned. “Worth a shot.” he chuckled. He may not be stronger than the Seraph, but he was pretty sure he could outsmart him. The angel was so busy deflecting his attacks and bristling at his taunts that he wasn’t paying attention to Dean’s tail. The demon snuck it around, wrapping it tightly around the celestial being’s waist and spinning out of the way as he sent him flying through a nearby sapling.
The angel had not expected this maneuver, and was momentarily stunned. Dean was on him before he could recover, pinning him down and muttering quickly under his breath. Blood-iron chains clamped down around the angel’s wrists and ankles, binding him as completely as a devil’s trap bound a demon.
Blue eyes glared up at him, full of hate as the Seraph stilled. “You will release me.” he demanded haughtily.
Laughing, Dean ran his nose along the line of the angel’s jaw, inhaling deeply and growling in arousal. “No, I don’t think so, angel.” he whispered into the creature’s ear before he drew away and stood. He had the angel, now he needed a place to put him where none of the others would find him in Hell. A place specially warded so that no one, demonic or angelic, could find his prize. Only Dean.
Nodding to himself, Dean reached down and gripped a fistful of the celestial being’s shirt, hauling him up as well. They vanished from earth, sinking into the ground and wiggling their way down to Hell. Dean’s mind was already re-shaping his room, adding a trap-door that would lead to the room where the angel would be kept. It was a trap-door only he would be able to see, protected by sigils and runes.
They appeared in the new room, which Dean had furnished with a lavish bed and whatever else he felt the angel might need. He had just enough time to place his captive in this hide-away before returning to earth; appearing moments before Sam burst free with several demons following him.
“Where’s the angel?” Sam demanded, looking around wildly as if the creature was about to spring from behind a tree.
Dean shrugged, grinning as his tail twined around his leg. “Ran away. Couldn’t take it that I was whooping his feathery ass.” Dean replied easily.
The demons hollered and cheered in delight, clapping Dean on the back and yelling insults to the sky. Sam was eyeing his brother, but Dean just grinned at him, and the larger demon eventually grinned as well. They returned to Hell to celebrate, none of them any the wiser about what Dean had done.
By the time Dean returned to his room, many hours had passed since he’d captured the angel. In that time, the demon had become short-tempered and snappy, wanting to get away from Alistair and return to his rooms. His mentor had watched him closely while he worked, his milky white eyes cold and calculating, but he said nothing about Dean’s supposed victory over the angel. The older demon cared nothing for such news, he only wished to torture.
When Dean slipped into his room, he turned and locked the door behind him. The trap-door appeared at once and he eagerly slipped through it, automatically ducking the basin that was hurled at his head.
Before the angel could throw something else, Dean growled and tackled him. The manacles greatly reduced the Seraph’s powers, so now Dean was stronger than him. He held the squirming creature down with ease, smiling as the angel glared hatefully up at him.
“Now, now, is that any way to behave?” he purred, leaning down to rub his nose over his captive’s neck. “You should play nice, or I’ll get angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
“I wouldn’t like you no matter what.” the angel spat, his voice much more rough and gravelly without the high trill of his true voice laced in.
Grinning, Dean sat back, straddling the angel’s hips as he shook his head. “Aw, you shouldn’t say such things. You’re mine now, angel. Might as well get used to me, because I’m never letting you go. This is your home now, and I’m your companion.”
Paling, the angel’s stared up at him in shock, his blue eyes wide. “You wouldn’t do that. Why would you? I’m your enemy. Best to kill me. You know if I ever got free, I’d kill you.”
Chuckling, Dean gripped a handful of the angel’s dark brown hair, jerking his head back and drawing his tongue along the creature’s Adam’s apple. “No, you wouldn’t.” he purred, rubbing himself against his angel and feeling how he stiffened below him. “You’ll learn to want me too, angel. You’ll learn.” he promised, drawing back and looking down at his captive. “Are you hungry?” he asked, suddenly thinking of it. “I can get you some food.”
“Angels do not eat.” the Seraph spat, beginning to shift. He almost looked pain, and Dean suddenly realized that he was crushing the creature’s wings beneath him. He pulled back, letting the angel lurch into a sitting position. The wings rustled as they settled into a more comfortable position, and the demon eyed them. They were large, the feathers glossy and the same dark color as his hair.
“You’re gorgeous.” he murmured, stroking the angel’s cheek gently and smiling as he stiffened in response. “My gorgeous angel.”
“I will never be yours.” the angel retorted, though Dean could see the nervousness in his large blue eyes. He knew that the demon had him. There was no way for him to get free unless Dean willingly released him from his shackles.
“You’re already mine.” Dean growled, suddenly angry. He tackled the angel and sent them both sliding across the floor. The angel’s head slammed into the bed post, and before he could do anything else Dean dug his nails into the creature’s chest and dragged them down without mercy. His claws easily ripped into the angel’s skin, leaving jagged bloody lines. He listened with relish to his angel’s cry of pain, licking the blood from his fingers as the wounds healed over. When the Seraph’s chest was just as perfect and unblemished as before, he did it again; and again, drawing strangled screams and cries from the creature beneath him. Usually the angel wouldn’t be able to feel such pain, but the shackles did their job well.
“You are mine.” Dean said again, staring sternly down at the angel who was whimpering and panting beneath him. The creature’s beautiful eyes were hazy with pain and fear. When Dean reached for him, the angel flinched away from him, so he made soft, soothing sounds at the back of his throat. He gathered the angel to him, letting him bury his face into Dean’s shoulder while the demon stroked his lower back and rocked him. “Shh, it’s okay, angel, its okay. You’re my good boy. I don’t wanna hurt you, but you have to listen. Bad angels get punished. Okay?”
The angel whimpered and nodded slightly, clinging to Dean despite the shackles. Dean continued to coo and murmur how good his angel was until the Seraph finally relaxed. Then he pulled back, using one hand to tip the angel’s chin up so he could look into those watery eyes. “Will you be a good angel for Dean?”
“Yes.” the Seraph whispered, still trembling. There was a lingering defiance in his eyes, so Dean knew that there would be more trouble, but for now his angel was listening to him. Then the creature tilted his head to the side. “Dean?”
“Yes.” the demon said, smiling as he nuzzled the angel’s ear. “My name is Dean. What’s your name, angel?”
He felt the angel hesitate and narrowed his eyes. “Castiel.” the Seraph finally whispered, not looking at the demon. Dean smiled.
“Castiel.” he repeated, liking the way how the name rolled off his tongue. The angel’s wings drooped and he nodded. “My Castiel. My angel.”
When the celestial being did not protest, Dean purred in delight, standing and pulling the angel up with him. He stroked Castiel’s cheek briefly. “Sleep, angel. I will come and visit you tomorrow before I must go work.” Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss over Castiel’s forehead before slipping out of the room and securely shutting the door behind him. He made sure the sigils were strong and would hold before making the door vanish.
Crawling into bed, Dean burrowed under the blankets, his tail twining around his leg as he smiled sleepily to himself. He had his very own companion, one that no one knew about and no one would try to take from him. Castiel was beautiful, and he was his. With these happy thoughts in mind, Dean succumbed to slumber.
Castiel watched in despair as the door vanished before the angel crawled onto the large bed that was in the room, curling up on top of the soft blue silk. He wrapped his arms around his legs and drew them up against his chest, one dark wing folding over him to hide his body as he shook.
Pain was not something the Seraph was used to feeling so strongly, and Dean’s savage attack had been very painful. It also made him afraid, because with the blood-iron shackles there was nothing he could do to protect himself against the demon. If Dean wanted to kill him, there was nothing stopping him.
Unused to being afraid, the strange feeling made Castiel angry. Wrath, he knew very well. It cleared the fear from him, and he decided to act. Silently he called out to his brothers, trying to reach them. His mental call hit a barrier, though, and no matter how much he beat against it he could not get through. For a demon, Dean was smart. He knew exactly what to do to keep anyone from finding Castiel.
The thought made him even more afraid. He was cut off from his home, bound, and at the mercy of this demon. As much as he knew dying would be the honorable thing to do, the Seraph knew that suicide was frowned upon by God and His angels. The only way for him to die was for Dean to kill him, and Dean would not.
For now, there was nothing for Castiel to do, but the angel refused to become complacent. He wasn’t called one of the smartest in his garrison for nothing, and he was the best at building traps and solving puzzles. He would find a way out of this.
Angels did not sleep, but Castiel still allowed himself to relax upon the soft bed, rubbing his cheek against the silk sheets. Closing his eyes, he let out a soft sigh and allowed his mind to drift and rest. It was as close as he was going to get to sleep.