SPN: Starfish Club 1/1 (MaryJohn AU)
Written for spn_reversebang from this magnificent picture by the talented ladyamarra. Her art post is here - go give her some love!
SUMMARY: Kidnapped, altered, and forced into a life he didn't want on a world he never dreamed existed, Dean Winchester lives each day with the hope of rescue. All the while, a countdown is ticking down -- after a certain amount of time, the alterations become permanent. Will he be found in time? Will he be a member of the Starfish Club forever?
There was always that moment of crystalline, razor-sharp terror when he first opened his eyes and found himself submerged in his cell. There was always that split-second stab of horror and the instinctual urge to hold his breath.
But then, he would remember that he had been breathing just fine while he was sleeping. He would take his first conscious breath of the day and feel the weirdalienwrong rush of the water moving into his lungs and being converted to oxygen by the new structures there.
He would kick himself from his sleeping couch and move around the large cell, making certain his fellow prisoners were all alive and well. Once assured that none had died in the night - for one had, not so very long ago - he would return to his couch and curl under the covers, feeling the cold water caress his body even as it pressed down on him. And only then would he allow himself the luxury of the one thought that had sustained him thus far and kept him alive and fighting.
Come on, Sammy --- Come on, Cas --- find me, already!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had started off innocently enough. Life aboard ship was often routine, and there were many stations in the Alliance that held recreation facilities as well as restocking ones. It wasn't unusual for the MaryJohn to dock overnight at one of these.
After all, the three brother crew needed refreshing as much as the larders did.
Once the three got over the shock at seeing their first non-humanoid alien - which Dean immediately and irreverently nicknamed a Horta, after one of his favourite characters in Star Trek -- the beings merged into the background of the stations. Dean's translation transponders were proving invaluable in their trading and recreation.
"Dude, we've walked straight onto the set of Star Wars," Dean quipped as they walked into a bustling bar with a non-human band. "Cantina, anyone?"
Sam rolled his eyes and ordered the best drink with the lowest alcohol suitable for humans. He brought three large glasses of what looked like fruit punch to the table, and all three drank.
Immediately, all three choked. Apparently this bar didn't see many humans, and their 'low alcohol' drink had the kick of a mule.
Nonetheless, the drinks disappeared steadily as the conversation and being-watching flowed. Sam's eyes slowly began to droop, and he endured a few minutes of good-natured ribbing from Dean about not being able to hold his liquor before those eyes slid closed and stayed closed.
"Sammy?" Dean struggled to stand, but his legs wouldn't co-operate. He crashed to the ground and lay still.
Cas cursed, belatedly realising something was very wrong. He lurched to his feet and his hand went to his concealed knife.
The crack of something hard and heavy across the back of the ex-angel's head was enough to send him to his knees. A second blow sent him sprawling over Sam, unconscious.
"Well done," a creature that looked like a snake with arms and legs hissed, nodding its head on its very long neck. "You will be well compensated for this one."
"One?" the bartender asked, frowning. "I drugged all three!"
"And we only require one this cycle," the snake-man said. "No worries - send the other two on their way. They'll miss their crewman awhile, but they'll find a replacement soon enough." He ran his cool fingers down Dean's cheek. "Yes," he cooed. "This one is perfect. Bring him!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam woke to a mouth that tasted like something furry had crawled in it and died, and to a head that rang like a whole chorus of bells. Groaning, he turned his head to try to avoid the brilliance attempting to carve his eyeballs out of his face and slowly peeled the leaden weights that had replaced his eyelids open a sliver.
"Here," a welcome voice said and the brilliance was replaced with a cooler shadow that rippled like....
Feathers? "....Cas?"
"Yeah. You've been drugged."
"Feels like it. You... You okay?" As he spoke, Sam rolled onto his side and found the warm, hard surface he was sprawled on was the hood of the Impala.
"My head hurts. I fear I may be concussed. Are you stable now?" At Sam's shaky nod, Cas retracted his wings and slid his t-shirt back on.
Sam rubbed his face, spitting onto the sun-baked ground and grimacing when that did nothing to alleviate the feeling of fuzz that had invaded his mouth. "What happened?" He looked around, belatedly realising they were alone. ".....where's Dean?"
Cas shook his head. "I don't know. We were ambushed - you two were clearly drugged and I was more quickly dispatched when the druggers realised it wasn't working as quickly on me."
"And we woke alone," Sam swore, looking around again. "And the bar's gone."
"It must be mobile - like the Roadhouse." Cas groaned, a hand going to his head.
Sam opened the Impala's door. "Let's get back to the MaryJohn -- we need healing and we need her resources to find Dean."
Cas nodded and sank gratefully into the passenger seat, leaning back and closing his eyes.
Sam found the keys in the dust beside the car - more proof Dean had been taken, as he would never have willingly left the car keys - but used the new biometric controls to start the car and said, "The MaryJohn, Baby," using the name Dean always called the Impala.
Instantly a transparent map flared before his eyes, with the route clearly marked.
Sam nodded and shakily began to drive.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean woke to pain. It flared, bright and hot, across every nerve ending in his body.
"He has a language translation transponder," a strange voice said.
"Leave it," a second replied. "A slave that can speak and understand everyone is a commodity that will fetch a handsome price."
Slave? ....what the hell?
"Genetic modification proceeding as - ay, Great Mother, he is conscious!"
....genetic what?
Before he could think beyond that - or even move a muscle - the pain increased to the point where Dean's mind and body simply could not bear any more, and he sank back into unconsciousness.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The rare sound of Cas turning the air blue with curses met Sam's ears as he walked onto the MaryJohn's bridge, freshly showered after their quick double stints in the Infirmary. "No luck?"
"Plenty of luck," Cas snarled. "All of it bad." He looked up at Sam from where he sat at the pilot's seat. "Dean isn't on this planet."
Sam swore. "Offworld. Lovely."
Cas's expression turned stricken. "It's a big Alliance, and an even bigger quadrant, Sam. Where do we even start?"
"Well, they can't take him out of the quadrant, right? Only the B'Shain motherships can make that trek?"
"By Divine design, yes," Cas said. "But that is still a lot of territory to cover! So my question stands - where do we start?"
"Like this." Sam sank into the co-pilot's seat and activated one of the communications consoles. "MaryJohn to Roadhouse. MaryJohn to Roadhouse - this is Sam, come in, please!"
Seconds later, a voice came from the speakers. Roadhouse, Ash speaking. What can we do for you, Sam?
Sam turned to Cas - and smiled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean had been raised a Hunter. He had long ago lost the childhood fears of what lurked in the dark, conquered by knowledge of what each was and how it could be defeated, if not outright destroyed. Dean could count on both hands the times in his entire life he had truly been terrified.
Waking fully after his abduction to find himself at the bottom of an enormous filled tank of water was definitely on that list. Terror rapidly turned to shock when he found he could breathe easily.
Swallowing convulsively revealed something around his neck. Exploring with his fingers -- webbed, what the HELL -- showed it to be some kind of a collar, reinforced with metal. That thing wouldn't be coming off anytime soon.
His clothing had been changed as well, into some kind of filmy tunic that he couldn't immediately tell the colour of over leggings - he absolutely refused to think he was wearing tights, Dean Winchester didn't do tights - the same colour, with his feet left bare.
Shaking slightly, he ran a hand over his face and found yet another surprise. Instead of stubble, he felt fine scales running down his cheeks. What the hell did they DO to me? he yelped inside his own head, followed swiftly by each change he'd found slotting into place and forming a pattern that gave him his answer.
He remembered hearing his captors say that they had altered him genetically. They had - very obviously - transformed Dean into a water-breather.
But why? Where was he? What did his captors want?
Dean swallowed again as an unpleasant thought trickled its way into his mind.
Dean understood machines. The human body was a complex machine. Dean understood - thanks to the MaryJohn's Infirmary computers while he had been building the translation transponders - that genetic tampering was a re-writing of the "software" of human beings: DNA.
And it could be reversed - so long as a certain amount of time had not passed. Once that mark was gone, the overwriting became permanent.
He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself.
Come on, Sammy - come on, Cas - find me, already!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Upset was far too mild a word for how Sam was feeling. Enraged didn't even begin to scratch the surface.
Add helpless to the mix, and that came somewhat closer.
Two weeks. Two long, agonising weeks since Dean had vanished without a trace.
Sam woke screaming every night. This was too damned close to what he'd gone through at Gabriel's hands in Broward County, and the nightmares of that time had started up again.
Finally, he told Cas everything about Broward County. He wasn't really sure what reaction the tale of his older brother's misdeeds was going to elicit from Cas.
Which was probably why he startled slightly at Cas's slight frown and calm, "Huh. That certainly explains your trigger-happy reaction at seeing him on the mothership."
Sam found himself chuckling slightly. "Yeah - I guess it does."
A buzz sounded and the green light above the door lit. Sam rose to his feet. "I'll get it."
Cas watched him exit their quarters to answer the incoming communication, and then lay back on Sam's bed, where they had been sitting.
Sam's tale had given Cas an idea, though, of how they might locate Dean. Closing his eyes, Cas took a very deep breath.
And began to silently, fervently pray.
He opened his eyes and sat up when he sensed the doors open. Sam leaned in, grinning. "Rufus found where the bar went."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When his captors finally showed themselves, Dean learned why he had been converted into a water-breather.
The world he had been kidnapped to was an aquatic one. The whole time the transport carried Dean to where he was to "work", Dean didn't see a lick of dry land.
Once the transport stopped, and Dean and the rest of the slaves - for that was what Dean and those collared like him were - were led from it, Dean was visibly surprised to find the water receding.
"First day, huh?" one of the girls whispered once they were out of the water and thus could physically speak again. "Just do your job and get through your shift and we'll soon be in the water again."
"Silence!" one of the overseers barked, and Dean suddenly knew why their collars were studded with metal.
Punishment was delivered with electric shock. The girl who had spoken to him arched as it arced, then fell, gasping, to the ground.
Dean ran to help her, only to be knocked to the ground by his own taste of agony.
...shit, that hurts....was all he could think for a long few moments as he was herded backstage and made presentable for his "shift".
Once the pain receded, he found himself staring at his overseer in mute shock as his duties were laid out. "...you want me to do what?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Yeah," Sam confirmed as they walked in. "This is the place - Star Wars Cantina Band and all."
Rufus nodded. "Okay, then. You two go sit - let Bob an' me handle this."
Sam shook his head. "Rufus, they took Dean from here--"
Bobby put a hand on his shoulder. "And they drugged you and Cas. They know you, boy. They don't know me and Rufus from Adam."
Cas tugged on Sam's sleeve. "He's right, Sam. Come on."
Blowing the air out of his cheeks, Sam followed Cas to a dim corner. "I hate this."
"As do I," Cas said. "But they have more of a chance at gaining the information we seek."
After what seemed like five minutes shy of forever, Rufus and Bobby joined them. "Well," Rufus sighed. "That was...." Trailing off, he shook his head.
Bobby met Sam's eyes and softly laid it all out. "Dean was sold to slavers. They come every few weeks, looking for fresh slaves. If they get enough, they leave this establishment alone."
Sam's jaw twitched. "Where can we find them?"
"Here," Rufus said, his voice thick with tension. "The bartender's sick of his clientele vanishing. Bad for business, and all. He said they'll be here in a couple of hours."
Cas nodded. "Then we wait."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean's new duties threatened to make him physically ill. He had been taken to be something that translated to "pleasure slave". As such, he was to bring the club's patrons entertainment.
In any way they desired.
Dean's instant reaction of "Oh, hell no!" led to such a vicious shocking that he ended up huddled on the floor, heaving in great gulps of air.
But when a second vicious shock refused to "persuade" Dean, the overseer began to suspect something else was going on, and he took Dean to the on-site physician. The result was one that even Dean hadn't seen coming.
After nothing had been able to break through Dean's shields of fury and intense desire to return to his family enough to cause a physical reaction in the new slave, Dean saw the physician pull the overseer aside and heard him whisper, "I hope your mind was not fixed on that one performing sensually."
"What?" the overseer gasped. "Why?"
"Because he cannot," the physician informed him. "Nothing rouses him. There is no physical reason for no physical reaction - so I can only conclude that he is utterly incapable of giving physical pleasure."
Dean nearly choked on his own spit, overhearing that.
The overseer breathed a word that didn't translate. "Then what do we do with him?"
Suddenly nervous, Dean began to hum to calm himself.
About ten bars in, he suddenly became aware that the overseer was staring at him. "What?" Dean asked, even more nervous.
The smile that slowly spread across the overseer's face did nothing to help that feeling.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When the slave traders - a different pair than earlier, one human and one not -- entered the bar, they expected to find their usual cowed pawns and oblivious patrons. They expected to find the targets already drugged and ready to be spirited away to their new lives.
The last thing either of them expected was to have a weapon jammed into their back. But as one walked to the bar and another headed toward an empty table, that was exactly what happened.
"You're making the biggest mistake of your shortened lives," the one interrupted at the bar snarled as they were headed out of the building.
"I don't think so," a voice that promised agony hissed in his ear before a crack across the back of his skull sent him straight into silent darkness.
"Now," Sam said as he holstered the weapon that had been used to cold-cock the arrogant slaver and the brothers, Bobby and Rufus then turned to face the other slaver. "We need answers, and you're gonna be the one to prove them."
The other slaver swallowed hard and slowly raised his hands in surrender.
All six of them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean found himself actually feeling a little bit sorry for the overseer. Through no fault of his own, the man had been saddled with a "pleasure slave" that was incapable of physical pleasure, an incompetent dancer, and only a passable singer!
Dean walked off the rehearsal stage, relieved that particular torment was over. He hadn't wanted to taint any of his personal favourite songs with the memory of having had to perform it under duress, so he'd groped for and found one of his ex-girlfriend Cassie's favourite songs.
He could only hope he'd truly murdered Air Supply's "All Out Of Love" as badly as he thought he had.
When he saw the overseer's frustrated expression, he knew he'd succeeded. "That was the most awful piece of --" the next few words didn't translate, but Dean got the point. "-- I have ever heard in my entire life! You may be a pretty one, but you're the most incompetent pleasure slave I have ever seen!" He threw up his hands. "Is there anything you're good at?"
Dean licked his lips. "You need to promise me you won't shock me for what I'm about to say."
The overseer's eyes narrowed. "And why would I promise that?"
"Because it is not a threat - just an honest answer to your question."
After a tense moment, the overseer nodded. "You've my word. For the honest answer, you will not be shocked."
Nodding, Dean took a deep breath. "I'm good at killing. I've been trained from four years old to hunt and kill things that prey on human beings. I'm also pretty good with machines."
The overseer studied him for a few moments, silent and still. Then he asked - as if testing Dean - "Do you know anything about environmental systems interfaces?"
Dean smiled. "Mechanical, electronic, biometric or hydroponic?"
The overseer broke into a smile. "You may be useful after all, Dean. Come, follow me."
As they walked, it suddenly struck Dean that that was the first time any non-slave here had actually used his name.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You're kidding," Sam said, his jaw dropping open.
"No, sir," their captive said, twisting his six hands together in agitation. "I am not."
"The Starfish Club?" Sam looked at Bobby. "Seriously?"
"Ain't what you're thinkin' it is, Sammy," Rufus piped up from the corner, where he was keeping watch over the unconscious other captive. "Right, Bob?"
"Right," Bobby said. "Boys, there's a legend out here of fish the size of a giant starship that float lazily between the stars. They're supposed to be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and their songs are supposed to bring joy and fortune."
Sam nodded in sudden comprehension. "So, actual Star Fish, not the five-armed fish I'm used to." He then turned to their captive. "And where is this Starfish Club that you sold my brother to?"
"Camarna," the captive said. "The club is on Camarna." He suddenly chuckled. "Matter of fact, it's the only thing on Camarna!"
"Camarna," Cas said, firing up Rufus's navigation console - and swearing.
"Uh-oh," Rufus mumbled to Bobby. "You know it ain't good when an angel curses."
Ignoring Rufus's attempt at humour, Bobby asked, "What'd you find?"
Cas turned in the chair. "Camarna is in the data base, all right. It's all the way on the other side of the quadrant."
Sam dropped heavily into a chair, letting his head fall into his hands as a groan of sheer frustration crawled from his throat.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Life at the Starfish Club had gotten better since the overseer - whose name, Dean found out, was Paratan - had stopped trying to make Dean into a pleasure slave and had put him to work as a tech-monkey.
Dean had only been shocked twice since that fateful conversation. One had been at Paratan's hands, a lower level jolt to wake up an unnaturally sluggish Dean. Once it came to light that Dean had been drugged by a patron to force him into her bed - thwarted by Dean's stubborn determination to finish his tasks and go straight to his sleeping tank in case Sammy and Cas found him - the patron was banned from the club for life.
The second time had been a severe shock delivered by a different patron in a classic case of "Ooohh, what does thisbutton do?" After that, Paratan kept the controller on his person at all times.
Dean learned that his new biology meant that he had to spend at least an hour a day in water or he began to grow weak and ill.
And constantly, in Dean's mind, a mental hourglass ran. The outcome of this countdown wasn't as severe as the one that had led them to the stars - Dean wouldn't die at the end of this one - but it was still a stressor, knowing that if he wasn't found in time the changes to his physiology would be permanent.
Every day and every evening, he would mentally whisper to himself what was increasingly feeling like a dream.
C'mon, Sammy.... C'mon, Cas.... find me, already!
One evening, as the slaves were being loaded into their tranpsorts, Dean thought he caught a glimpse of a vaguely familiar dark-skinned human talking with Paratan.
That evening was one of the rare times in his entire life that Dean Winchester felt like crying himself to sleep, though he stubbornly let no tears fall.
The sand in his mental hourglass had run out.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Dean," Paratan said as he stepped from the transport. "Follow me."
Frowning, Dean followed. They rode to the top level in the Starfish Club. Before they exited the lift, Paratan swallowed. "I shall miss you, Dean."
"....oh, that's not ominous at all," Dean muttered as the doors slid open.
Dean stepped out into a massive room. Behind a desk sat the owner of the club, whom Dean had only seen twice. In front of the desk stood---
"Sammy! Cas!" Dean rushed forward and the brothers all hugged, laughing and talking and maybe crying just a little, all at the same time.
"This is him, then?" the owner asked.
"Yes," Paratan said, watching the reunion. "This is Dean."
"Dean Winchester," the owner said, turning to the men who stood on the other side of his desk, silent and sullen, with Bobby and Rufus holding weapons on them. "You erred severely this time," the owner growled at the slavers.
"We didn't know," the six-armed one said.
"I believe youdidn't know," the owner said. "As such, you will take Dean's place in our ranks and will be free from the life of a slaver."
The six-armed one bowed deeply and Rufus turned him over to another overseer, who led him away.
The owner turned to the remaining slaver. "As for you -- I believe you knew exactly who you had taken - because of your past."
The slaver spat at the owner, and an overseer backhanded him. He snarled, "My only regret is I could not kill him, after what he did to me and my family!"
Dean glared at him. "Did to you? Mister, I've never seen you before in my life!"
"You led the expedition!" he shouted at Dean. "Because of you, my sister was put in a home for the criminally insane! Ferri was a fine woman and a better general - till you three came along!"
Cas's eyes widened. "You're from Lankeer."
"I've heard enough," the owner snarled. "Remove him from my sight."
The slaver was led away, struggling and cursing.
Only when he was gone did Bobby and Rufus holster their guns.
The owner smiled at the brothers. "I apologise for any distress, Winchesters. You've done so much good out here, that this seems wrong." He leaned over and pressed a button on his desk.
Dean's metal-studded collar fell from his neck to the floor.
"You're free," the owner said. "And, because I know how closely you have worked with Dean - and befriended him - I am not unreasonable. You are free, as well."
A second press of the button, and suddenly Paratan's collar fell into his hands.
Paratan stared at it. "....free? But.... to do what?"
Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered them back toward the lift. "I happen to know of a certain Roadhouse that can always use a reliable, loyal bouncer."
As the lift closed behind them, Paratan asked, "But, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"....what's a bouncer?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean sat alone on the MaryJohn's bridge, looking through the viewscreen at the blackness of space. It felt wonderful to be home again.
It felt wonderful to look in the mirror and see his very human face again, as well. Though the genetic alterations were now a permanent part of him, the MaryJohn's infirmary had been able to restore his former appearance.
Dean would always be a water-breather, however. Cas had pointed out that now they had one for the air, one for the water, and one for the land.
"All the bases covered, huh?" Sam had quipped, and they all had laughed.
Dean laughed softly at the memory, and sipped his water. He had just decided to return to bed when something appeared in the viewscreen.
"What the...." Dean watched in awe as a large fish -- easily the size of a starship -- glided peacefully from the lower left of the viewscreen to the upper right and then slowly sailed out of view.
"Huh," Dean smiled, realising he had just seen one of the Star Fish the club had been named for.
With a feeling of contentment, happy to be home and feeling as though he'd been granted a gift, Dean turned off the viewscreen and went to bed.
Sitting on top of the MaryJohn, gazing into space, Gabriel smiled and snapped his fingers. The creature he'd conjured vanished, and he focused on Dean, touching his mind just enough to give him good dreams.
After a moment, Gabriel did the same for Sam and Cas.
It was the least he could do to make up for his miscalculation that had led them arriving too late to change Dean all the way back.
Oh, well - Gabriel was positive that there was a reason for this. Perhaps that water-breathing would come in handy one day.
END
SUMMARY: Kidnapped, altered, and forced into a life he didn't want on a world he never dreamed existed, Dean Winchester lives each day with the hope of rescue. All the while, a countdown is ticking down -- after a certain amount of time, the alterations become permanent. Will he be found in time? Will he be a member of the Starfish Club forever?
There was always that moment of crystalline, razor-sharp terror when he first opened his eyes and found himself submerged in his cell. There was always that split-second stab of horror and the instinctual urge to hold his breath.
But then, he would remember that he had been breathing just fine while he was sleeping. He would take his first conscious breath of the day and feel the weirdalienwrong rush of the water moving into his lungs and being converted to oxygen by the new structures there.
He would kick himself from his sleeping couch and move around the large cell, making certain his fellow prisoners were all alive and well. Once assured that none had died in the night - for one had, not so very long ago - he would return to his couch and curl under the covers, feeling the cold water caress his body even as it pressed down on him. And only then would he allow himself the luxury of the one thought that had sustained him thus far and kept him alive and fighting.
Come on, Sammy --- Come on, Cas --- find me, already!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had started off innocently enough. Life aboard ship was often routine, and there were many stations in the Alliance that held recreation facilities as well as restocking ones. It wasn't unusual for the MaryJohn to dock overnight at one of these.
After all, the three brother crew needed refreshing as much as the larders did.
Once the three got over the shock at seeing their first non-humanoid alien - which Dean immediately and irreverently nicknamed a Horta, after one of his favourite characters in Star Trek -- the beings merged into the background of the stations. Dean's translation transponders were proving invaluable in their trading and recreation.
"Dude, we've walked straight onto the set of Star Wars," Dean quipped as they walked into a bustling bar with a non-human band. "Cantina, anyone?"
Sam rolled his eyes and ordered the best drink with the lowest alcohol suitable for humans. He brought three large glasses of what looked like fruit punch to the table, and all three drank.
Immediately, all three choked. Apparently this bar didn't see many humans, and their 'low alcohol' drink had the kick of a mule.
Nonetheless, the drinks disappeared steadily as the conversation and being-watching flowed. Sam's eyes slowly began to droop, and he endured a few minutes of good-natured ribbing from Dean about not being able to hold his liquor before those eyes slid closed and stayed closed.
"Sammy?" Dean struggled to stand, but his legs wouldn't co-operate. He crashed to the ground and lay still.
Cas cursed, belatedly realising something was very wrong. He lurched to his feet and his hand went to his concealed knife.
The crack of something hard and heavy across the back of the ex-angel's head was enough to send him to his knees. A second blow sent him sprawling over Sam, unconscious.
"Well done," a creature that looked like a snake with arms and legs hissed, nodding its head on its very long neck. "You will be well compensated for this one."
"One?" the bartender asked, frowning. "I drugged all three!"
"And we only require one this cycle," the snake-man said. "No worries - send the other two on their way. They'll miss their crewman awhile, but they'll find a replacement soon enough." He ran his cool fingers down Dean's cheek. "Yes," he cooed. "This one is perfect. Bring him!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam woke to a mouth that tasted like something furry had crawled in it and died, and to a head that rang like a whole chorus of bells. Groaning, he turned his head to try to avoid the brilliance attempting to carve his eyeballs out of his face and slowly peeled the leaden weights that had replaced his eyelids open a sliver.
"Here," a welcome voice said and the brilliance was replaced with a cooler shadow that rippled like....
Feathers? "....Cas?"
"Yeah. You've been drugged."
"Feels like it. You... You okay?" As he spoke, Sam rolled onto his side and found the warm, hard surface he was sprawled on was the hood of the Impala.
"My head hurts. I fear I may be concussed. Are you stable now?" At Sam's shaky nod, Cas retracted his wings and slid his t-shirt back on.
Sam rubbed his face, spitting onto the sun-baked ground and grimacing when that did nothing to alleviate the feeling of fuzz that had invaded his mouth. "What happened?" He looked around, belatedly realising they were alone. ".....where's Dean?"
Cas shook his head. "I don't know. We were ambushed - you two were clearly drugged and I was more quickly dispatched when the druggers realised it wasn't working as quickly on me."
"And we woke alone," Sam swore, looking around again. "And the bar's gone."
"It must be mobile - like the Roadhouse." Cas groaned, a hand going to his head.
Sam opened the Impala's door. "Let's get back to the MaryJohn -- we need healing and we need her resources to find Dean."
Cas nodded and sank gratefully into the passenger seat, leaning back and closing his eyes.
Sam found the keys in the dust beside the car - more proof Dean had been taken, as he would never have willingly left the car keys - but used the new biometric controls to start the car and said, "The MaryJohn, Baby," using the name Dean always called the Impala.
Instantly a transparent map flared before his eyes, with the route clearly marked.
Sam nodded and shakily began to drive.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean woke to pain. It flared, bright and hot, across every nerve ending in his body.
"He has a language translation transponder," a strange voice said.
"Leave it," a second replied. "A slave that can speak and understand everyone is a commodity that will fetch a handsome price."
Slave? ....what the hell?
"Genetic modification proceeding as - ay, Great Mother, he is conscious!"
....genetic what?
Before he could think beyond that - or even move a muscle - the pain increased to the point where Dean's mind and body simply could not bear any more, and he sank back into unconsciousness.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The rare sound of Cas turning the air blue with curses met Sam's ears as he walked onto the MaryJohn's bridge, freshly showered after their quick double stints in the Infirmary. "No luck?"
"Plenty of luck," Cas snarled. "All of it bad." He looked up at Sam from where he sat at the pilot's seat. "Dean isn't on this planet."
Sam swore. "Offworld. Lovely."
Cas's expression turned stricken. "It's a big Alliance, and an even bigger quadrant, Sam. Where do we even start?"
"Well, they can't take him out of the quadrant, right? Only the B'Shain motherships can make that trek?"
"By Divine design, yes," Cas said. "But that is still a lot of territory to cover! So my question stands - where do we start?"
"Like this." Sam sank into the co-pilot's seat and activated one of the communications consoles. "MaryJohn to Roadhouse. MaryJohn to Roadhouse - this is Sam, come in, please!"
Seconds later, a voice came from the speakers. Roadhouse, Ash speaking. What can we do for you, Sam?
Sam turned to Cas - and smiled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean had been raised a Hunter. He had long ago lost the childhood fears of what lurked in the dark, conquered by knowledge of what each was and how it could be defeated, if not outright destroyed. Dean could count on both hands the times in his entire life he had truly been terrified.
Waking fully after his abduction to find himself at the bottom of an enormous filled tank of water was definitely on that list. Terror rapidly turned to shock when he found he could breathe easily.
Swallowing convulsively revealed something around his neck. Exploring with his fingers -- webbed, what the HELL -- showed it to be some kind of a collar, reinforced with metal. That thing wouldn't be coming off anytime soon.
His clothing had been changed as well, into some kind of filmy tunic that he couldn't immediately tell the colour of over leggings - he absolutely refused to think he was wearing tights, Dean Winchester didn't do tights - the same colour, with his feet left bare.
Shaking slightly, he ran a hand over his face and found yet another surprise. Instead of stubble, he felt fine scales running down his cheeks. What the hell did they DO to me? he yelped inside his own head, followed swiftly by each change he'd found slotting into place and forming a pattern that gave him his answer.
He remembered hearing his captors say that they had altered him genetically. They had - very obviously - transformed Dean into a water-breather.
But why? Where was he? What did his captors want?
Dean swallowed again as an unpleasant thought trickled its way into his mind.
Dean understood machines. The human body was a complex machine. Dean understood - thanks to the MaryJohn's Infirmary computers while he had been building the translation transponders - that genetic tampering was a re-writing of the "software" of human beings: DNA.
And it could be reversed - so long as a certain amount of time had not passed. Once that mark was gone, the overwriting became permanent.
He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself.
Come on, Sammy - come on, Cas - find me, already!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Upset was far too mild a word for how Sam was feeling. Enraged didn't even begin to scratch the surface.
Add helpless to the mix, and that came somewhat closer.
Two weeks. Two long, agonising weeks since Dean had vanished without a trace.
Sam woke screaming every night. This was too damned close to what he'd gone through at Gabriel's hands in Broward County, and the nightmares of that time had started up again.
Finally, he told Cas everything about Broward County. He wasn't really sure what reaction the tale of his older brother's misdeeds was going to elicit from Cas.
Which was probably why he startled slightly at Cas's slight frown and calm, "Huh. That certainly explains your trigger-happy reaction at seeing him on the mothership."
Sam found himself chuckling slightly. "Yeah - I guess it does."
A buzz sounded and the green light above the door lit. Sam rose to his feet. "I'll get it."
Cas watched him exit their quarters to answer the incoming communication, and then lay back on Sam's bed, where they had been sitting.
Sam's tale had given Cas an idea, though, of how they might locate Dean. Closing his eyes, Cas took a very deep breath.
And began to silently, fervently pray.
He opened his eyes and sat up when he sensed the doors open. Sam leaned in, grinning. "Rufus found where the bar went."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When his captors finally showed themselves, Dean learned why he had been converted into a water-breather.
The world he had been kidnapped to was an aquatic one. The whole time the transport carried Dean to where he was to "work", Dean didn't see a lick of dry land.
Once the transport stopped, and Dean and the rest of the slaves - for that was what Dean and those collared like him were - were led from it, Dean was visibly surprised to find the water receding.
"First day, huh?" one of the girls whispered once they were out of the water and thus could physically speak again. "Just do your job and get through your shift and we'll soon be in the water again."
"Silence!" one of the overseers barked, and Dean suddenly knew why their collars were studded with metal.
Punishment was delivered with electric shock. The girl who had spoken to him arched as it arced, then fell, gasping, to the ground.
Dean ran to help her, only to be knocked to the ground by his own taste of agony.
...shit, that hurts....was all he could think for a long few moments as he was herded backstage and made presentable for his "shift".
Once the pain receded, he found himself staring at his overseer in mute shock as his duties were laid out. "...you want me to do what?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Yeah," Sam confirmed as they walked in. "This is the place - Star Wars Cantina Band and all."
Rufus nodded. "Okay, then. You two go sit - let Bob an' me handle this."
Sam shook his head. "Rufus, they took Dean from here--"
Bobby put a hand on his shoulder. "And they drugged you and Cas. They know you, boy. They don't know me and Rufus from Adam."
Cas tugged on Sam's sleeve. "He's right, Sam. Come on."
Blowing the air out of his cheeks, Sam followed Cas to a dim corner. "I hate this."
"As do I," Cas said. "But they have more of a chance at gaining the information we seek."
After what seemed like five minutes shy of forever, Rufus and Bobby joined them. "Well," Rufus sighed. "That was...." Trailing off, he shook his head.
Bobby met Sam's eyes and softly laid it all out. "Dean was sold to slavers. They come every few weeks, looking for fresh slaves. If they get enough, they leave this establishment alone."
Sam's jaw twitched. "Where can we find them?"
"Here," Rufus said, his voice thick with tension. "The bartender's sick of his clientele vanishing. Bad for business, and all. He said they'll be here in a couple of hours."
Cas nodded. "Then we wait."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean's new duties threatened to make him physically ill. He had been taken to be something that translated to "pleasure slave". As such, he was to bring the club's patrons entertainment.
In any way they desired.
Dean's instant reaction of "Oh, hell no!" led to such a vicious shocking that he ended up huddled on the floor, heaving in great gulps of air.
But when a second vicious shock refused to "persuade" Dean, the overseer began to suspect something else was going on, and he took Dean to the on-site physician. The result was one that even Dean hadn't seen coming.
After nothing had been able to break through Dean's shields of fury and intense desire to return to his family enough to cause a physical reaction in the new slave, Dean saw the physician pull the overseer aside and heard him whisper, "I hope your mind was not fixed on that one performing sensually."
"What?" the overseer gasped. "Why?"
"Because he cannot," the physician informed him. "Nothing rouses him. There is no physical reason for no physical reaction - so I can only conclude that he is utterly incapable of giving physical pleasure."
Dean nearly choked on his own spit, overhearing that.
The overseer breathed a word that didn't translate. "Then what do we do with him?"
Suddenly nervous, Dean began to hum to calm himself.
About ten bars in, he suddenly became aware that the overseer was staring at him. "What?" Dean asked, even more nervous.
The smile that slowly spread across the overseer's face did nothing to help that feeling.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When the slave traders - a different pair than earlier, one human and one not -- entered the bar, they expected to find their usual cowed pawns and oblivious patrons. They expected to find the targets already drugged and ready to be spirited away to their new lives.
The last thing either of them expected was to have a weapon jammed into their back. But as one walked to the bar and another headed toward an empty table, that was exactly what happened.
"You're making the biggest mistake of your shortened lives," the one interrupted at the bar snarled as they were headed out of the building.
"I don't think so," a voice that promised agony hissed in his ear before a crack across the back of his skull sent him straight into silent darkness.
"Now," Sam said as he holstered the weapon that had been used to cold-cock the arrogant slaver and the brothers, Bobby and Rufus then turned to face the other slaver. "We need answers, and you're gonna be the one to prove them."
The other slaver swallowed hard and slowly raised his hands in surrender.
All six of them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean found himself actually feeling a little bit sorry for the overseer. Through no fault of his own, the man had been saddled with a "pleasure slave" that was incapable of physical pleasure, an incompetent dancer, and only a passable singer!
Dean walked off the rehearsal stage, relieved that particular torment was over. He hadn't wanted to taint any of his personal favourite songs with the memory of having had to perform it under duress, so he'd groped for and found one of his ex-girlfriend Cassie's favourite songs.
He could only hope he'd truly murdered Air Supply's "All Out Of Love" as badly as he thought he had.
When he saw the overseer's frustrated expression, he knew he'd succeeded. "That was the most awful piece of --" the next few words didn't translate, but Dean got the point. "-- I have ever heard in my entire life! You may be a pretty one, but you're the most incompetent pleasure slave I have ever seen!" He threw up his hands. "Is there anything you're good at?"
Dean licked his lips. "You need to promise me you won't shock me for what I'm about to say."
The overseer's eyes narrowed. "And why would I promise that?"
"Because it is not a threat - just an honest answer to your question."
After a tense moment, the overseer nodded. "You've my word. For the honest answer, you will not be shocked."
Nodding, Dean took a deep breath. "I'm good at killing. I've been trained from four years old to hunt and kill things that prey on human beings. I'm also pretty good with machines."
The overseer studied him for a few moments, silent and still. Then he asked - as if testing Dean - "Do you know anything about environmental systems interfaces?"
Dean smiled. "Mechanical, electronic, biometric or hydroponic?"
The overseer broke into a smile. "You may be useful after all, Dean. Come, follow me."
As they walked, it suddenly struck Dean that that was the first time any non-slave here had actually used his name.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You're kidding," Sam said, his jaw dropping open.
"No, sir," their captive said, twisting his six hands together in agitation. "I am not."
"The Starfish Club?" Sam looked at Bobby. "Seriously?"
"Ain't what you're thinkin' it is, Sammy," Rufus piped up from the corner, where he was keeping watch over the unconscious other captive. "Right, Bob?"
"Right," Bobby said. "Boys, there's a legend out here of fish the size of a giant starship that float lazily between the stars. They're supposed to be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and their songs are supposed to bring joy and fortune."
Sam nodded in sudden comprehension. "So, actual Star Fish, not the five-armed fish I'm used to." He then turned to their captive. "And where is this Starfish Club that you sold my brother to?"
"Camarna," the captive said. "The club is on Camarna." He suddenly chuckled. "Matter of fact, it's the only thing on Camarna!"
"Camarna," Cas said, firing up Rufus's navigation console - and swearing.
"Uh-oh," Rufus mumbled to Bobby. "You know it ain't good when an angel curses."
Ignoring Rufus's attempt at humour, Bobby asked, "What'd you find?"
Cas turned in the chair. "Camarna is in the data base, all right. It's all the way on the other side of the quadrant."
Sam dropped heavily into a chair, letting his head fall into his hands as a groan of sheer frustration crawled from his throat.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Life at the Starfish Club had gotten better since the overseer - whose name, Dean found out, was Paratan - had stopped trying to make Dean into a pleasure slave and had put him to work as a tech-monkey.
Dean had only been shocked twice since that fateful conversation. One had been at Paratan's hands, a lower level jolt to wake up an unnaturally sluggish Dean. Once it came to light that Dean had been drugged by a patron to force him into her bed - thwarted by Dean's stubborn determination to finish his tasks and go straight to his sleeping tank in case Sammy and Cas found him - the patron was banned from the club for life.
The second time had been a severe shock delivered by a different patron in a classic case of "Ooohh, what does thisbutton do?" After that, Paratan kept the controller on his person at all times.
Dean learned that his new biology meant that he had to spend at least an hour a day in water or he began to grow weak and ill.
And constantly, in Dean's mind, a mental hourglass ran. The outcome of this countdown wasn't as severe as the one that had led them to the stars - Dean wouldn't die at the end of this one - but it was still a stressor, knowing that if he wasn't found in time the changes to his physiology would be permanent.
Every day and every evening, he would mentally whisper to himself what was increasingly feeling like a dream.
C'mon, Sammy.... C'mon, Cas.... find me, already!
One evening, as the slaves were being loaded into their tranpsorts, Dean thought he caught a glimpse of a vaguely familiar dark-skinned human talking with Paratan.
That evening was one of the rare times in his entire life that Dean Winchester felt like crying himself to sleep, though he stubbornly let no tears fall.
The sand in his mental hourglass had run out.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Dean," Paratan said as he stepped from the transport. "Follow me."
Frowning, Dean followed. They rode to the top level in the Starfish Club. Before they exited the lift, Paratan swallowed. "I shall miss you, Dean."
"....oh, that's not ominous at all," Dean muttered as the doors slid open.
Dean stepped out into a massive room. Behind a desk sat the owner of the club, whom Dean had only seen twice. In front of the desk stood---
"Sammy! Cas!" Dean rushed forward and the brothers all hugged, laughing and talking and maybe crying just a little, all at the same time.
"This is him, then?" the owner asked.
"Yes," Paratan said, watching the reunion. "This is Dean."
"Dean Winchester," the owner said, turning to the men who stood on the other side of his desk, silent and sullen, with Bobby and Rufus holding weapons on them. "You erred severely this time," the owner growled at the slavers.
"We didn't know," the six-armed one said.
"I believe youdidn't know," the owner said. "As such, you will take Dean's place in our ranks and will be free from the life of a slaver."
The six-armed one bowed deeply and Rufus turned him over to another overseer, who led him away.
The owner turned to the remaining slaver. "As for you -- I believe you knew exactly who you had taken - because of your past."
The slaver spat at the owner, and an overseer backhanded him. He snarled, "My only regret is I could not kill him, after what he did to me and my family!"
Dean glared at him. "Did to you? Mister, I've never seen you before in my life!"
"You led the expedition!" he shouted at Dean. "Because of you, my sister was put in a home for the criminally insane! Ferri was a fine woman and a better general - till you three came along!"
Cas's eyes widened. "You're from Lankeer."
"I've heard enough," the owner snarled. "Remove him from my sight."
The slaver was led away, struggling and cursing.
Only when he was gone did Bobby and Rufus holster their guns.
The owner smiled at the brothers. "I apologise for any distress, Winchesters. You've done so much good out here, that this seems wrong." He leaned over and pressed a button on his desk.
Dean's metal-studded collar fell from his neck to the floor.
"You're free," the owner said. "And, because I know how closely you have worked with Dean - and befriended him - I am not unreasonable. You are free, as well."
A second press of the button, and suddenly Paratan's collar fell into his hands.
Paratan stared at it. "....free? But.... to do what?"
Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered them back toward the lift. "I happen to know of a certain Roadhouse that can always use a reliable, loyal bouncer."
As the lift closed behind them, Paratan asked, "But, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"....what's a bouncer?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean sat alone on the MaryJohn's bridge, looking through the viewscreen at the blackness of space. It felt wonderful to be home again.
It felt wonderful to look in the mirror and see his very human face again, as well. Though the genetic alterations were now a permanent part of him, the MaryJohn's infirmary had been able to restore his former appearance.
Dean would always be a water-breather, however. Cas had pointed out that now they had one for the air, one for the water, and one for the land.
"All the bases covered, huh?" Sam had quipped, and they all had laughed.
Dean laughed softly at the memory, and sipped his water. He had just decided to return to bed when something appeared in the viewscreen.
"What the...." Dean watched in awe as a large fish -- easily the size of a starship -- glided peacefully from the lower left of the viewscreen to the upper right and then slowly sailed out of view.
"Huh," Dean smiled, realising he had just seen one of the Star Fish the club had been named for.
With a feeling of contentment, happy to be home and feeling as though he'd been granted a gift, Dean turned off the viewscreen and went to bed.
Sitting on top of the MaryJohn, gazing into space, Gabriel smiled and snapped his fingers. The creature he'd conjured vanished, and he focused on Dean, touching his mind just enough to give him good dreams.
After a moment, Gabriel did the same for Sam and Cas.
It was the least he could do to make up for his miscalculation that had led them arriving too late to change Dean all the way back.
Oh, well - Gabriel was positive that there was a reason for this. Perhaps that water-breathing would come in handy one day.
END