Darkness & Hunger 1/?

[hevyyd]

Title: Darkness & Hunger
Author: hevyyd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: none, this is an au verse.
Warnings: Violence, non-con, slavery, dehumanization
Themes: Vampire!Cas (as well as several all the other angels), Werewolf! Dean, Wrewolf! Sam
Word Count: 4,049
Summary: In which we meet our boys, learn the lay of the land, and Castiel makes a "friend"
NOTE: I'm still sorting out the warnings and themes, this is a WiP, if any new content is added that needs it's own warning I WILL be making note of it, so just pay attention. Expect the usual sick, twisted,
& dark perversion my mind brings out.


The stench of the back alley made the inside of Dean's nose sting. A fine mixture of sweat, blood,
alcohol and piss, to his right Sam pretended like the didn't notice, but Dean could tell from the subtle way he twitched his nose that it bothered him to. To think that in this day and age people would choose to live in such squalor.... it made him sick. In one fluid motion Dean reached for the revolver tucked away against the small of his back, the bullets were all in place, no mistakes would be allowed.

Sam and Dean had been tracking the renegades for two nights now, following the trail of blood, death, and destruction that they had left behind. Normally this sort of Hunt would be beneath them, but the grave matter of the assassination attempt of the young lord was another matter entirely. The Hunt must be swift, sure, and above all else, deadly.

As the two men reached a rusted Iron door, the stench of blood and fear grew stronger, almost until reaching a fever pitch, the brothers exchanged a glance, and then kicked the door down in unison. Inside was a young woman, not older than twenty. Her golden hair was matted with fresh blood, her blouse torn open revealing long claw marks across her chest. Scars from a werewolf's claws never heal, and they always infect.

Sam reached her first, kneeling down to feel for a pulse. "She's still alive," He said, his voice low and almost sad, "poor girl, if only we had been here sooner. No helping her now." He looked at Dean for a moment, searching for mercy in the eyes of his older brother where he knew he would find none.

Dean gently placed the gun against the girls forehead as Sam looked away and closed his eyes. A single gunshot rang out as the splat of blood filled the room, the silver bullet embedded in the cement below of what used to be a pretty young woman's head. "We could have brought her back with us," Sam said quietly, pleadingly, "helped her. She didn't have to die, it wasn't her fault."

"You're right." Said Dean in a hollow reply, eyes already lifting towards the rafters of the empty warehouse. He knew that the renegade pack were watching from above, he wondered if they were angered that he didn't accept their bait. "But those weren't the orders we were given, this is a cleanup, not a rescue." Perhaps his tone was a bit too harsh, because Sam winced slightly at the sound of it and shrank into himself, Dean had that effect on others.

"A cleanup, is it?" Came a low growl from above them, several other grumbling voices of dissent joined the first, maybe a dozen in all, a decent sized pack. "I always heard that the Winchester boys were monsters in their own right, even for us, but that's just cruel." A dozen loud thuds echoed through the room as each wolf in turn jumped down from their perch and surrounded Sam and Dean.. "Have you  no pride Winchester?" said the man again, presumably he was the leader, even though he didn't bear the regality of an alpha wolf, "Or are the two of you truly that whipped, that you would hunt and kill your own kind over some pathetic faggot whore of a leech prince."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see the fine hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand on end, his little brother hated being insulted. The rage was already coming off of him in waves while his scent, a rich earthy aroma touched with a hint of spice, rose up to greet Deans nostrils. Sam never could control his scent when he got riled up, Dean noted, but it didn't matter much, by now the renegade wolf pack could smell him too, smell his little brothers strength & pride, smell the alpha wolf in his blood. Winchester blood. As for Dean? He always kept his cool, but after taking a moment to absorb the pungent stench of fear he let his claws slip out, splitting open his fingertips and dripping red blood on the ground.

"This is the twenty-first century," Dean said softly, allowed the corner of his lip to rise in a mirthful smirk, "you should know better than to be homophobic." Beside him, Sam let out a blood curdling  growl as he lunged at the nearest wolf.

*

Gabriel lifted his eyes from his book when he heard a sudden, rough gasp from the bed beside him. The little prince had been in torpor for days as his body tried to fight off the infection to little avail, so seeing him suddenly upright came as a bit of a shock. His little brothers body, normally cold to the touch, was burning hot, and his skin was drenched with sweat as though a fever had broken. "Cassy!" The man exclaimed happily, "It's so good to see that you're back with us!"

"Where..." Castiel tried to begin, but a sudden coughing fit ended his thought momentarily, "where am I Gabriel?"

"The family home." His brother answered simply, and easy smile still spread across his face. "Your apartment in New York was put to the torch, you're lucky one of our dogs was in the area and brought you home, you might not be with us otherwise."

"I see." So he was back in Maine then, not that being back at the Novack estate was a bad thing, Castiel had left on good terms with the family and there was no bad blood between him and his brothers and sisters, he just wasn't quite ready to return from his attempt at modern urban living.

"Ah! Where are my manners, you must be very hungry." With a clap of his hand, a beautiful young woman entered the room. Dark auburn hair spilled over her shoulders and a tight black dress clung to her olive skin. She smiled and offered a polite curtsey to the two men as she entered before kneeling down and baring her neck to Castiel.

The sound of the blood pumping through her veins was intoxicating to be sure, but when he lowered himself to take a bite, but he found he scent to be putrid, and waved her away, giving Gabriel a look to voice his distaste. "Hrm, not her? Oh that's right you always did prefer boys Cassy, I'm sorry." Gabriel smiled at the girl and shooed her out as a handsome young man took her place by the bedside. Again Castiel found that he could not stomach even the thought of feeding from him, despite the ravenous thirst he felt building within.

"Gabriel," he said, his gravel voice low with worry, "I can't drink this blood. The thought of it makes me sick." He paused for a long while as the brothers stared at one another, "What's happened to me?"

*

If the warehouse stank of blood before the fight, it was drenched in vile odor now. Sam and Dean had made short work out of eleven of the renegades, but had left the leader alive for a while longer. Blood and gore from eviscerated bodies was strewn carelessly about, and the walls were covered in red. Before them the leader was kneeling, his skin sliced to ribbons and blood matting his black hair, the floor squeaked with every motion as he tried to back away in a growing pool of his own blood.

"How could you do this?" The man whimpered, sobbing. "How could you kill your own kind, how could you be the slaves the those leeches? Where is your pride, your honor? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" His voice cracked as he backed against a metal beam, he had nowhere left to run and now truly looked the part of a cornered, helpless animal.

Dean walked towards him slowly and knelt before him, retracting his claws back into his fingers while reaching for the gun at his back. "How can you live like this?" he asked, mocking the shivering mess beneath him, "These "leeches", as you call them, are our masters by divine right. They have been since ancient times, you know that. We all know that." His eyes became soft, and he gently placed an open hand on the young wolfs face. "It is our honor to serve them, to safeguard them, for they alone can keep us safe from the real monsters out there."

"Real monsters?" the wolf stuttered, his eyes wide and bewildered.

"Yes," Dean replied, "the monster that is mankind. We may prey upon them, but they outnumber us, and you know what would happen if we were caught, exposed? Torture, experimentation, and death. That is why we entered into our pact so long ago." Dean placed his gun over the young wolfs heart as Sam looked away again, closing his eyes. "But you attacked one of your betters, and royalty at that, so now you die."

The second gunshot was as loud as the first, but after the destruction Sam and Dean had caused, neither could tell if the mess had become even worse.

*

At the sound of the Impala pulling into the driveway, a voice came out from the call box beside the wrought-iron gate. "Welcome back ya idjits," came the southern twang of a middle-aged man, "everything go down alright?"

"Fine Bobby," Sam replied from the open car window, "let us in." The gate opened to reveal an enormous mansion. The complex easily spanned the dimensions of a football field, and was four stories tall. The Novack family home was truly a marvel. Secluded in the heart of the woods, the surrounding hundred acres of land devoid of any human life, it was the perfect retreat for  New England's oldest vampire family. The lavish home, however, was for the masters only, and so Dean drove past the front off the house and parked in the small garage erected next to the servant house off to the side.

"What, I'm not coming in too?" Sam remarked, raising an eyebrow to Dean.

"Only one of us needs to report Sammy," Dean said softly, "Why don't you just take a warm bath, get some food..."

"Dean you don't have to protect me," Sam started, cutting off his older brother, "you don't have to always be the one who talks to the masters, I know what happens in there, I know how they treat you..."

"They treat me no better than I deserve." The younger Winchester held his mouth partially open, half in shock and half to protest, but Dean continued as though he did not notice. "We're werewolves Sammy, and they are the masters. We're slaves, pets, whatever they decide. I know that fact still upsets you, but it doesn't upset me, so you go relax and I'll deal with it."

As Dean got out of the Impala and walk towards the side entrance to the main compound he could hear Sam call after him. "We are still people Dean! When we don't change we are still human!"

We are so much more than that Sammy. Dean thought, and so much less.

The door opened before Deans hand could reach out and touch it, and he was greeted by a large vampire clad entirely in black, his ebony skin making his features almost impossible to read in the darkness. "Master Uriel." Dean intoned, bowing his head to the man.

"You stink and you're covered in filth," came the mans reply, "you aren't setting one foot near your betters like this."

"Even if I had bathed before coming you would have deemed me filthy anyway Sir. Why keep the masters waiting when I could cut out the middleman and only clean up once Sir."

The slap to his right cheek came hard and fast, "Don't get smart with me."

"I apologize Sir, I meant nothing by it, I didn't think-"

"You're right," said Uriel, "you didn't think. But who can blame you, we don't keep your kind around for your brains now do we? Now strip and get inside."

"Sir." Deans cheek stung as blood rushed back to it, vampires were incredibly strong, but the bruise would heal quickly enough. Dean quickly stripped naked and left his clothes at the door, covered in blood as they were Dean knew Uriel would have them incinerated, his obsessive-compulsion for cleanliness was legendary. Once inside Uriel turned on the bright fluorescent lights revealing a large walk-in shower with a tile floor. There were several faucets around the space and a set of manacles hung from the ceiling. Why he wasn't allowed to bathe himself would always be beyond Dean, but Uriel is as Uriel does, so he quickly stepped in and slipped the heavy chains on.

Two humans entered the room and Uriel's command. One hoisted the manacles up so that Deans arms were spread wide while the other started the water, the pressure was intense coming from five sides at once and, as always, the water was piping hot. If Dean weren't a werewolf this would have been painful, but instead it was only mildly annoying. The human servitors produced two long-handled scrubbing brushes and, after dipping them in Uriel's custom made "anti wolf" soap, began the very thorough process of scrubbing him down.

Dean tolerated a great many things, after all he was a good servant to his masters, loyal and obedient. He tolerated being degraded, dehumanized, and insulted by even the lowliest of vampires. He tolerated being spat on, threatened, and beaten. He even tolerated having the intimate parts of his body poked, prodded, and scrubbed far too roughly with hard brushes. But if there was one thing he could not tolerate it was the damn soap. It was one part regular soap and then three parts of some kind of extra strong bleach, with a dash of mistletoe. The chemical burn from the bleach was one thing to endure for his nostrils, but the mistletoe was another. Werewolves hated the herb almost to the point of being allergic, it burns the eyes and skin and strips off their scent, sometimes for days if enough is used.

Uriel, of course, had his own private garden patch of the stuff.

When the bath was finally over Dean was blown dry, because in the eyes of Uriel a werewolf isn't good enough for a nice soft, warm towel. He was then fitted with a thick leather collar adorned with a silver tag and sent inside, finally being deemed "clean."

The inside of the Novack manor was even more beautiful than the outside, the air was warm and the carpet at his feet lush and thick. Every room was richly furnished and every comfort was provided for the multitudes of vampires that called this place home. Walking about, ignored by everyone but Dean himself, were the servants. Other werewolves like himself, men and women kept naked but for the thick collar around their necks, all pleasing to the eye so at the very least the masters might not be offended by an "unsightly" servant. He couldn't smell any of them, couldn't identify, couldn't establish any bond or connection, Uriel and his special soap saw that within the walls of the Novack manor, every werewolf was isolated and alone. Dean hated it.

When Dean reached his destination, a large pair of oak double doors, he knocked and waited patiently to report to his masters.

*

The knock at the door caught Gabriel's attention, who looked away from Castiel for long enough to motion for one of the human servitors to open the door before returning his gaze to his little brother. Castiel himself was rather bewildered by the entire course of his evening. He had awakened to find that he could not drink blood, only to have Gabriel inform him that he had something called a 'refined palate'.

It's something of a condition we suffer from, Gabriel had explained, well, not all of us, but it's really not that rare of a thing either Cassy, so nothing to worry about. The long and the short of it had been that this particular condition plagued almost every member of the royal Novack's in some form or another, and that it meant he could only feed on specific kinds of blood, which varied from vampire to vampire.

When the doors opened and the werewolf entered, all Castiel could do was stare. He had seen others like him before, of course, but never one this.... regal. His build was solid and dense with muscle, short brown and blonde hair with a faint splattering of freckles across his naked flesh, and green eyes. Gabriel noticed his stare and smiled, "Hello there Dean, looks like little Cassy here fancies you!"

Castiel shot his brother a cold, hard glare that only made him laugh aloud.

"Forgive me masters," said Dean, casting his eyes downward and dropping to his knees, "I didn't know the young prince was present, sorry for being so rude."

"Rudeness, shmudeness." Gabriel replied lazily, brushing Deans formality aside, "Cassy is feeling much better now, I trust the renegades who attacked him are dead?"

"Very much so Sir."

"Good! So all is well that ends well." Gabriel smiled again and turned away from Dean and regarded the bedridden Castiel, "Did you know that it was Dean who saved your life and brought you all the way up here?"

"I didn't, no." Replied Castiel, looking over at the kneeling werewolf, "Thank you."

"Please Sir, no thanks are needed," Dean mumbled lowly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly at the floor, "It was a pleasure..." his heart rate increased rapidly as he quickly added on, "a pleasure to perform my duty to serve house Novack Sir." If the two vampires noticed his rapidly beating heart, neither betrayed any signs.

Castiel lowered his voice and leaned in towards his brother, "Why does he seem so, I'm not sure, different? He is not like the other werewolves I've seen around the mansion."

"Well that's because he's not, silly," Gabriel replied, at full volume. Obviously he didn't care that Dean knew they were discussing him, "The Winchester breed is something of a pet project we've been working on for generations, been breeding them you know."

"Breeding?" Castiel asked, flushing, the notion of breeding intelligent people seemed a far-off notion to him.

"Well yeah, you know how in normal dog breeds there are genetic defects, etc. because of inbreeding?" When Castiel nodded he continued, "Well with the Winchesters we can't have that, so we selectively breed the best traits into them, and then iron out everything undesirable. Modern medical techniques have made that so much easier, just by the by. It's a real pity John had to go and die so young though, he was the perfect sire."

"What do you mean?" The younger vampire glanced nervously between Gabriel and Dean, weighing curiosity and compassion in his mind and choosing the former.

"Well he had everything we wanted for the breed. He had strength, stamina, intellect, discipline, & obedient too. He also had a damn near flawless transformation too, which sadly he didn't pass on to any of his pups. If only we could have milked a few more out of him, such a waste of prime genetic material." Gabriel let out a long sigh before finally looking back at Dean, "Oh, you. Why are you still here?"

Castiel watched as Dean edged himself back several paces on his knees and lowered himself further to the ground. "Forgive me Sir," he began, "I didn't know if you still had need of me or not." It felt strange for him to see a werewolf, an alpha at that, to be so cowed by his older brother. Gabriel wasn't an especially imposing individual to begin with, but Dean bowed his head and shrank away as though he were a behemoth.

"I have an idea," Gabriel began, ignoring Dean once again, "how would you like to keep him as a pet?"

"Um, keep who?" Castiel asked.

"Dean , duh." Gabriel stood up before Castiel could give his reply and faced Dean. "Hey you, dog! Over here, now." Dean responded to the sharp crack of his voice instantly and moved over to Castiel's bedside, stopping a few feet away from Gabriel. "Present yourself dog," Gabriel said, "I think it's high time my baby brother was educated on your kind."

Dead quickly settled into parade rest, hands clasped behind his back and feet shoulder width apart. "This is the most important thing Cassy," Gabriel said, pointing to Deans face, "do you see his eyes?" When Castiel nodded he turned back to Dean, "Dog, explain why you cast your gaze the way you do."

"Yes Sir," Dean responded swiftly, "It is a matter of pride that I serve my masters Sir, a good slave maintains a straight, dignified line of sight Sir. He does not look his master in the eyes Sir, that would be disrespectful Sir." Satisfied with the answer, Gabriel roughly turned Dean's head this way and that, showing Castiel the line of his jaw, the condition of his teeth, even prying open Deans mouth so he could examine the inside of his mouth and tongue. Next Gabriel tapped Deans ribcage with his knuckles, grabbed his cock and balls and rolled them over in his hands, examining, and then finally ordered Dean to bend over so that he could examine the curve of his spine.

Castiel wasn't sure if he was ashamed to be watching this, or incredibly aroused.

"It's important to look your dog over Cassy," the older vampire said absentmindedly, "You can catch a lot of things before they happen as well as determine it's general health and condition."

"It?" Castiel asked, immediately wishing he hadn't.

"Your dog, Dean, what did you think I meant? Don't confuse him for a person Cassy, he's property, they all are. it's not often we even bother using proper pronouns with their kind, they're not worth it."

Having heard more than he could bear, Castiel politely thanked Gabriel for his gift and asked that he leave him in peace to rest. Once the older vampire had gone, he turned to the werewolf who knelt before his bedside. "I'm sorry about him," Castiel said softly.

"Master has no reason to apologize." Dean replied curtly.

"Is that really how you feel Dean? You don't care at all about the way your kind is treated?"

"it's fine Cas..." Dean whispered softly, before catching himself and straightening up again, "I mean, it's fine Sir, please don't concern yourself with me."

"If you insist." Castiel then set Dean about the task of cleaning his room while he observed. Watching Dean was fascinating, the muscles rippled beneath his skin from even the most mundane of actions. He was just about to turn his attention to a book when the scent of blood seeped into the air, filling Castiel's nostrils with fire. He looked to find the source and saw Dean sucking on a finger quietly, he had apparently sliced open a wound while picking up one of Castiel's old fencing blades. Castiel had never smelled anything quite like Deans blood, it was rich and full, it made his mouth water. From deep within Castiel felt a hunger stir, darkening his eyes and filling his body with need.

"Dog." Castiel said darkly, he smirked as Dean looked up at him with his green eyes. How like a lamb the mighty wolf looked, all of his muscles and strength nothing but a joke to hide the weakness in his eyes."Come here and kneel before your master, now."

"Yes Sir." Dean responded, quickly moving to Castiel's side and kneeling, head bent and eyes cast downward. Castiel admired the sight, lowering himself to Deans neck, he inhaled deeply. He could almost smell the alpha wolf scent. Uriel did a good job at masking it, but the open wound was just enough to let it seep back out. He ran his tongue along the ripe, prime expanse of Deans neck, breathing in the musky scent, his eyes almost rolling back in ecstasy.

Then he drove his fangs into Deans flesh and drank deeply.