FIC: R&R snippet, SPN!Pirate!AU
OKAY GUYS JUST LET ME POST THE FIRST TINY PART OR SO AND YOU TELL ME IF YOU WANT MORE. I'm getting close to the third half of what I assume would be the first book in this little pirate trilogy, and guys, this pirate thing is getting disgustingly out of hand. (YES I MIGHT BE PLANNING A WHOLE THING AROUND THIS IDEFK)
Working Title: Raiders and Rebels: The Capture
Author: lilchibibunny
Rating: The whole thing is R; this section is safely PG-13.
Word Count: This snippet is 4,549.
Characters/Pairing: No pairings as of yet. Heavy emphasis on Castiel. Zachariah, Dean, and Sam also appear.
Disclaimer: Characters to Kripke and the CW.
Spoilers: THEY ARE PIRATES.
Warnings: Obviously this is an AU. Cursing, mild violence, things of a sexual nature and eventual slash in later chapters.
Summary: Castiel's been raised in Zachariah's inner circle, so it's no wonder that the first time Zachariah leaves, pirates wash ashore.
Author's Note: I have no idea how this got so out of hand. In case you haven't heard, this is a weirdly serious pirate!AU.
Once the entire thing is finished I'll go back and revise it and hopefully get my wonderful beta who has been following it every time I update it to give it a look over, and I'll go ahead and do a masterpost. This is a draft of the the first few words; I will probably go back and add more detail when I've got the whole thing completed.
You have oywidapoodles to blame for inspiring this, and allhisengines and belledewinter for always being on AIM for me to moan about how ridiculous I am about this AU.
Castiel does not remember a lot of his childhood before he was thrust into Zachariah’s world. His father must have not been around a lot, for all his memories are of his mother. On top of a horse’s saddle while his mother smiled. Splashing water while she washed his hair, laughing. All good memories, luckily.
He once asked Zachariah why his mother gave him up. He merely replied, “Your father belonged to this society, and your mother was a dirty whore who had the fortune of capturing his heart. And although she did have his heart,” he felt the necessity to add, “you are rightfully ours.”
He vaguely recalls his mother holding his hand as they went up what seemed like the biggest staircase in the world, as it twirled upwards in a white, marble heaven.
“Castiel,” his mother murmurs, “this man is going to take care of you. He’s going to give you a better future."
“Mama,” Castiel, five years old, cries, clinging to her skirt. Tears coming from his eyes, wetting the material. He doesn’t sob like normal children, he just sniffles when his nose starts to run.
“Please, darling. He’s going to give you a future."
“I want Mama, please," the little boy says, looking up at his mother with impossibly blue eyes. She smiles gently, kneels down.
Wiping the tears from his lashes, she kisses both of his eyes closed. “We’ll see you soon, lovely." She takes off a necklace and a silver band, putting the ring on the thin metal before clasping it around his neck. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he parrots, waiting until the necklace is safely resting on his chest before trying to bury himself in his mother’s skirts.
“Take the woman away.” And suddenly his mother is gone and Castiel is screaming her name, his little legs not getting to the door in time and it shuts, landing heavily in place. “Put the boy in the green room. I think I’ll send him to Uriel until he’s ready."
Castiel doesn’t sob, he just lets the tears run down his face as his sniffles echo down the large staircase.
And here he is, twenty years later, studying to work under Zachariah, one of the most powerful men in his area. The governor of the colony, Zachariah is connected to almost all of the ports in the area, and holds quite a iron grip of them. Zachariah is ruthless, enjoying having such a position of power and the sadistic nature to do beyond what is needed to keep them in line and out of pirates’ hands.
Castiel doesn’t share Zachariah’s passion for bloodshed and torture. He’s escaped most of the “lessons” by hiding out in the library, telling Zachariah he’s learning about the bloody history of the colony but instead studying ancient Greek and Roman culture. Castiel did in fact brush himself up on the current situation by dressing down and roaming around the local taverns and even made friends with the local blacksmith, Andrew. Andrew had apparently just moved in the area within a few months, but he did fine work. When Castiel asked about his background, Andrew just smiled. “What about your background?” he remarked, and when Castiel didn’t answer, Andrew said, “Perhaps we can leave the past where it belongs.”
When Castiel is supposed to be in the dungeons, questioning the outlaws about pirates, he instead goes to the blacksmith to hear Andrew’s stories. Andrew’s father used to be a pirate until he was hung for his activities; when he’d settle into port, he would tell Andrew all about what had happened since he was gone. Obviously, the stories were embellished, but they were exciting and much better than whipping a man in a cobwebbed-filled dungeon. (Castiel had made friends with most of the staff in Zachariah’s residence, so it was no big affair to convince them to lie to Zachariah’s officers.)
Castiel stares out of the window until Zachariah hisses, “Castiel. Stop standing there and come to attention.”
He obediently does so. “Yes, sir?”
“I need to show you my daily ritual before I’m off.” He raises an eyebrow. “Also, I’m having you meet my head officer. Then dinner and I will make preparations for tomorrow.”
Castiel just nods. Despite having lived most of his life under Zachariah’s rule being groomed for this position so Zachariah can move higher up the ladder, the governor still doesn’t feel comfortable leaving Castiel in charge.
It’s understandable.
________________________________________
“And I always take a run-through of the dungeons before I go to bed,” Zachariah finishes, watching as Castiel nods. “Did you get all of that, boy?”
“Yes, sir.” Zachariah paces in the library, watching Castiel as he goes from left to right. Beady eyes trace his breathing as Castiel stands in place, waiting for Zachariah to continue.
“I will be gone for two weeks. Business should not take me that long, perhaps I’ll be back sooner.”
Castiel nods.
Zachariah watches for more of a reaction, and when none is given, he huffs, shaking his head as he walks up to the glass container of brandy. “If something happens when I’m gone, you are to first send a letter my way, and then to Uriel.”
“What if I am unable to correspond?” Castiel inquires, tilting his head to the side.
Zachariah’s laugh is more like a bark. “Then you will find a way to get in contact with me. Nothing is more important than keeping my manor safe.” He takes a long drink of his brandy, and Castiel’s lip twitches in contempt. No, he thinks, nothing is more important than keeping these people safe. Sure, he’ll keep the manor in good condition. But when push comes to shove, Castiel is going to make sure the town is secure. Zachariah may not care who dies and who lives, but Castiel sure as hell does.
“You need to stop daydreaming,” Zachariah barks, bringing Castiel from his thoughts. “Stupid boy, how are you to run a town when you can’t pay attention to me for five seconds?”
“Apologies, sir.”
Zachariah sighs. “When I come back, we are to arrange a wedding date.”
“Wedding date?”
“I have offered you to the governor of a colony on Hispaniola.” Zachariah practically preens as he talks about it. “His daughter is quite beautiful, and when I showed her a picture of you, she was happy to have your hand.” He snorts. “Apparently she also has a soft spot for blue eyes.”
Castiel already wants to drown himself. He was hoping to avoid an arranged marriage. His first experience with romance was a whore in a room above the tavern, and he was loath to repeat the experience. Not that he wasn’t attracted to people, it was just…he preferred reading about the experience of love to the actual thing. Besides, most women he had known in Zachariah’s circle often had different intentions and had affairs behind their husband’s back. Or sometimes they were frigid and the husbands had affairs. Either way, Castiel was fine unmarried. Not like he could say that. “I would like to meet my future bride, at least.”
Zachariah scoffed. “We start preparations for the marriage when I return.”
Castiel touched the thin metal that hung around his neck. Perhaps it was time to get married, have a wife. Perhaps she wasn’t that bad.
“Although perhaps I should have gotten you a husband by the enthusiasm you seem to be having for a future wife.”
Castiel again kept silent. The gender of the person didn’t matter, it was the fact that they would still probably be either completely dull or power-hungry that turned him off of the idea.
Castiel didn’t think that he was pigeon-holing the entire upper class. He was just basing it off of what he knew. (Of course, he didn’t consider himself part of the upper crust.)
________________________________________
Zachariah has a few minor melt-downs before actually getting on his ship. Castiel sees him off, and when he is gone, he tells the head officer to check on the house.
Andrew seems surprised to see Castiel. “I thought you had business at the manor?” Andrew says with a smile.
“I am tired of the manor,” Castiel moans, taking a seat in one of the crude chairs not completely covered in soot.
“Perhaps you would like it more out in the world?” Andrew leans against the iron rod he’s been using to stoke the fires, grinning at Castiel.
Castiel stares at Andrew and his lip quirks. “I wouldn’t survive out there, Andrew. I only know that manor. Reading about the world is much different than living it.”
Andrew shrugs, and puts the iron rod aside, picking up his tongs. “You’d be surprised, Castiel. From what I understand of you, you’re a fighter. As much as you’d like to deny that,” he adds, chuckling.
“Why…what makes you say that?” Castiel says, frowning.
“You try and pretend to be the bookish-type, but we’ve practiced with swords and you picked up pretty well.” Andrew places a large metal rod in the coals, both of them watching the fire as it licks the air. “I’ve seen your temper, and you move fast for someone who claims to read all day long. You have good reflexes for a bookworm,” Andrew teases.
Castiel opens his mouth, and closes it. There had been one day in the town market where a man was abusing a slave child, and Castiel’s temper rose quickly. He had the man kneeling in pain with two swift moves, and the child took residence in the manor for a couple days until Castiel could find him a respectable home. Andrew must have seen the altercation. “I have been raised by a man who appreciates the rougher side of power,” Castiel says carefully. “I’ve probably picked up a few things along the way.”
Andrew glances at him and shakes his head. “You’ll probably need them.” Before Castiel can comment, Andrew grins. “So since you’re here, would you like a story?”
Castiel asks for a short one (since he does have responsibilities to tend to later), and Andrew instead opts for the beginnings of Anne Bonney, a ruthless female pirate said to rule the seas with her lover, Calico Jack. Andrew shouts the words, grinning as he beats the heated rod into a flatter shape. Castiel asks a few questions, but he likes the way Andrew spins a tale.
________________________________________
Castiel lets the officers go ahead and check the dungeons. He gives them express orders just to check and if there were any problems to fetch him immediately.
They come back disappointed that everything is fine. Castiel nods and sends them to their night duties. He then went to the kitchen and had dinner with the cooks as usual, enjoying their gossip as a smile played on his lips.
It was quiet without Zachariah. Peaceful. If this was the way he could run his own colony, Castiel would be okay with that.
________________________________________
It must be at least one in the morning when Castiel awakens to a small chambermaid clutching his shoulder and shaking it violently. He mumbles, still half-sleep, but she keeps on with her motions.
It’s only until he sees the other men standing at the doorway which causes him to bolt upright in his bed.
“Little miss said you was the one in charge,” the one holding the torch sneers, and even in the dim firelight it’s obvious the man has very few teeth.
“I am.” Castiel is strangely calm, mostly worried for the little chambermaid shaking beside him.
The other dirty man with dredlocks motions with his sword. “You’re needed.”
Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “May I get dressed first?”
The two men exchange glances and whispers. Then the dredlocked one replies, “A minute to throw a jacket on and then we leave.” Castiel nods, quickly flipping the covers off of him. As he quickly dresses and throws a jacket on, he kisses the chambermaid on the forehead and tells her to hide in the closet in case one of the men stays behind.
But they don’t. Both of them escort Castiel out of Zachariah’s residence, although they do seem rather indignant about it.
________________________________________
“May I as where you are taking me?”
“No,” the one holding the torch replies.
“We got orders to bring you,” the other with the sword adds, “not to explain.”
They are crossing the town. Castiel sees the huge ship at port. The flag they fly is as black at the night. It’s obviously got other symbols on it, but it is much too dark to see them. Even so, the colors give them away.
Pirates.
________________________________________
The tavern is in quite a mood tonight, debauchery and mayhem rampant both outside and inside the building. Girls squeal, holding their skirts as ragged men chase after them, growling and laughing. There are drunk men getting sick, others singing loudly.
When the cat’s away, the mice will play.
The back of the tavern is where Castiel is lead. There’s a table in the back, surrounded mostly by women and a couple of more serious looking men than the drunk ones outside. As the group of Castiel and the ruffians approach, the women are waved away. One of the men whispers in a woman’s ear, winks at her, and laughs as she scuttles off.
Castiel just stares.
“Leave us,” the other says, and the two men who brought Castiel quickly go for the bar (and presumably the women who are standing beside it). The attention goes back to the blue-eyed gentleman in the nice jacket. “Please, take a seat,” voice smooth like the fancy whiskey Zachariah would pawn off at parties.
Castiel does so, his movements careful and fluid.
The man with the lighter hair speaks up first, almost impulsively. His green eyes watch Castiel closely, wandering over his face and his jacket quickly. Sizing me up, Castiel thinks. “Tell us your name, sailor.”
“My name is Castiel,” he replies evenly, “and I am not a sailor.”
The man laughs, leaning back on his elbows. “My mistake. Not often you see a stare like that from someone who doesn’t skim the water every once in a while.” He has a rip of fabric on his head, a bright red. Some of it is stained dark with sweat, and his hair, on the shorter side, flops over the top edge. His freckles still stand out despite his sun-damaged skin, marking his nose and on his cheeks. His smile is easy and friendly, easy to trust. Dangerous.
“What’s your last name?” the other one asks. He has darker, longer hair, wearing a Napoleon-like hat tipped to the side. It’s obviously seen better days, fraying around worn edges, but it still looks fine, a couple of feathers jutting from the right brim. He has a torn piece of red fabric loosely tied around his neck several times, also dark with sweat.
“Does it matter?” Castiel asks.
The one with the hat smiles a bit, and a dimple shows. “Why would you think that?”
“I assume that you are pirates,” Castiel says, “which means that once I give you the information you obviously seek, you will kill me.” He states it like a fact, and surprisingly saying it aloud makes him calmer about the situation. As if stating it automatically made it inevitable, so he should no longer be afraid of it being a mere possibility.
Both men stare at him for a few seconds before the lighter-haired one breaks out into a hearty laugh. “Did you hear that, Sam?” he says, clapping the man with the hat on the back. “He assumes we will kill him!” He looks to Castiel and actually winks. “I like you. I like him, Sam.” He says it like they are friends, and Castiel is having a little bit of a hard time. Pirates are supposed to be more menacing than this, aren’t they? With missing limbs and peg legs and eye-patches. Not obviously attractive and acting as if Castiel is a new friend they brought to have a few drinks with.
Sam, the man with the hat, is grinning as well. “Well, you did assume correctly that we are, in fact, pirates. But we won’t kill you.” His stare goes behind Castiel and his eyes-also a strange blend of brown and green-light up. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“…Have you now,” Castiel replies, eyebrow quirking upward and the lighter-haired man laughs again.
“Oh, I really like this one, Sam.” He meets Castiel’s eyes, obviously amused. “Our inside man has told us about you, and he thinks you’re worth saving.”
“Inside man?”
Sam nods. “We don’t like to go in blind on a job like this. After all, Zachariah is a huge name around these parts. We had to be careful.” He waves in a forward motion, looking behind Castiel. “C’mon, Andy, have a drink with us.”
When Castiel looks behind him, it’s definitely his friend Andrew who walks up, almost bashfully. “Hello, captains. It’s good to see you again.”
Sam frowns. “C’mon, Andy, you don’t have to call us ‘captain’.”
“Yeah, Andy,” the other man says, patting the seat next to him, “you have known us for a pretty goddamn long time.”
“Sorry, Dean,” Andrew replies, his grin getting more relaxed, “I just thought that you might want to keep up the whole high-and-mighty captain thing you obviously have going.”
Dean grins, and quickly pours Andrew-Andy-a drink, shoving it at him. Then he brings his green eyes back to Castiel. “Would you like a drink as well?”
“No.”
Dean grins and pours one anyway, sliding it over to him.
Sam’s the one who speaks up. “How did you figure we were pirates, Castiel?”
Castiel shrugs, pushing the drink ever-so-slightly to the side. “The flag when I was dragged by the port by your associates.” His words get larger and his tone gets more clipped. Castiel is fighting between anger and anxiety and he’s keeping a fairly cool head. “Unusually black.”
“Told you the flag is a dead giveaway, Dean.”
“And that’s why we agreed to fly it at nighttime, Sam,” Dean replies, elbowing his brother.
Sam turns his attention back to Castiel. “You’re an educated man.”
“Yes,” Castiel answers, sending a small glare to Andy.
“We’d like to know a few things.”
“I’ll tell you what you want to know.” Castiel isn’t up for arguing. Besides, if they raid the town now, Castiel will be dead anyway when Zachariah returns. He really doesn’t have any allegiance to Zachariah.
Dean puts on a pout, and Castiel can’t believe this man is captain of a pirate ship right now. “We haven’t even threatened torture yet.” He takes off the shock of red fabric on his head, placing it on the table. “You’re taking all the fun out of this interrogation.”
“However, I do want to know something first.” Castiel is keeping his eyes on Sam, who actually seems to be taking this seriously.
Dean grins at Sam. “Ooh, Sam, maybe these are his demands.”
“Go on,” Sam says, scowling at his brother when he laughs and takes a shot with Andy.
“I don’t care what happens to the officers or Zachariah, but I do care about the people in this town.” Castiel doesn’t realize he’s staring at Sam. “You can raid the town for everything you’d like. I’ll even tell you where the important documents are held. Just keep the people safe.”
Sam is quiet, and then looks over to Andy. “You weren’t lying,” and his tone is practically unreadable.
Andy nods. “Told you.”
“What did you tell them, Andrew?” Castiel demands. He can’t believe he didn’t see it. All the pirate stories, those weren’t his father’s, they were his.
Dean is actually serious when he answers Castiel. “He told us you weren’t meant for the uppity assholes of the rich class. He said you were more comfortable down at our level.” When Dean grins, it’s slow and almost seductive. Castiel blushes, which thankfully is masked by the candlelight in the tavern. “Andy said you liked the pirate stories, practically begged for them.”
“I-I-”
“We’re bringing you with us,” Sam says, standing up.
Castiel immediately begins, “What will happen to the tow-”
“The pillaging won’t happen tonight,” Dean answers, elbowing Andy to stand. “We’re just scoping out the area. We’ll wait until we’re better prepared, when we have a plan.”
Castiel looks at them frantically, palms on the table, his temper rising. “I just can’t leave these people. There’s no one here for them.”
Dean nudges Andy. “Round up the troops, we’re leaving. And for fuck’s sake, tell them if I see any women on board this time, they are getting thrown overboard.” Andy nods, and goes on his way, shouting and yelling to gather the attention of the crew.
“We didn’t say you had a choice in leaving,” Sam replies, and goes up to Castiel, arm outreached to assist him in moving forward.
Sam is taller than Castiel expected, but the smaller man is much quicker. He grabs the arm Sam’s reached out to him and quickly moves to Sam’s back, wrenching the wrist in an awkward position. Sam cries out (and Castiel is almost sure it’s more in surprise than pain), and when Castiel starts to speak, he finds there is a sword to his neck.
Castiel then understands why Dean is a captain of a pirate ship. Dean purposefully digs in the blade, making sure to draw blood. “You’ll let go of my brother’s wrist right now or else I will watch you bleed to death on this table.” When Castiel looks at Dean, he knows that the man means every word. He has gone from the silly drinker that laughed along with Andy to coiled steel in every movement, waiting to strike. “I don’t mind finding another informant.”
Sam chuckles as Castiel lets go, slowly showing his hands to Dean. “He’s actually pretty strong, Dean.”
“Really? He looks kind of gangly.”
Sam jerks Castiel’s arm forward and then thumps a large hand onto his back, forcing his chest against the table. “Sorry, but you’ll understand if we cuff you now.”
Castiel looks up at Dean from his position on the table. “Promise me the town will stay safe in my absence and I will go quietly.”
“We’ve got someone to take your place late tomorrow, when the town is aware you’ve been taken. Someone we trust and who knows how to deal with things like that.” Sam slowly takes his hands away from Castiel, who rights himself and brushes off his jacket.
Dean leans in close, and gently prods the sword into Castiel’s side. “Now move.”
Castiel does so without a word.
________________________________________
Dean still holds the sword at his side while Castiel walks in front of them to the ship. “When is Bobby supposed to get here?”
“Tomorrow around one in the afternoon,” Sam answers. “He knows the score. He’ll stay until that bastard comes back into play, and then he’ll give us what we need to go in and take what we want.”
“Good. I want to bring this fucker down so we can move up to the bigger prey.”
Castiel doesn’t say anything. When they get in the ship, Castiel is taken to the small set of prison cells on the boat. He notices they have tried to set up bedding, given him a couple pillows. The floor is clean and there’s biscuits on the floor. “Have to spend the first night here,” Dean says. “Just can’t trust people these days.”
He seems surprised when Castiel just stares at him, and then goes in of his own volition and closes the door behind him, making sure it locks. “Yes, Captain.”
________________________________________
Andy is waiting for Sam and Dean, walking to the door as soon as they come in. “I promise, he’s a good one.”
“We know, Andy,” Sam assures him, smiling to ease him down.
“How long did you say he hung around for, Andy?” Dean asks, thunking his sword into the table. Sam looks disapprovingly.
Andy shrugs. “Almost as long as I had been there. The second week is when he found me.”
“You’ve fought with him?”
“Only what we called practice.” Andy frowns. “Almost took a limb a couple of times. He’s fast and he’ll deny it up at down, but he’s good with a weapon.” He scratches his head and the two brothers wait for Andy to continue. “When he’s angry, he moves twice as fast. He likes to pretend to be ignorant when you’re just joking around, but when push comes to shove, he’s in the battle.”
“Hmn.” Dean sinks back into a chair, brow furrowed in concentration.
“Did he do something?”
Sam grins. “Tried to pull a fast one on me when we wouldn’t answer his question about the town being taken care of.”
“He’s strangely protective of them,” Andy agrees. “You’d think he’s all reserved and shit, but that little guy hides some deep emotions.”
Dean looks up at Andy. “Great work, per always, Andy. Knock back a drink and take it easy with the crew. We’ll be on the sea a few days before we can stop at Tortuga with supplies.”
Andy rolls his eyes. “I hate the French there. Fuckin’ pickpockets.”
“Spanish are worse,” Sam reminds him, and Andy acknowledges it with a shrug. “Tomorrow, Castiel is to go in Victor’s room for the interrogation.”
“If Vic bitches,” Dean adds, “tell him to can it or I’ll captain all over that shit.”
Andy laughs, salutes, and shuts the door quietly behind him.
The brothers sit in silence for a while before Dean says, “Quick little fucker.”
Sam laughs. “Yeah. Really jumped into action there.” He gives Dean a small glance. “Think we could recruit him?”
Dean’s face clouds in thought. “I mean, he came onto the boat without cuffs. Let himself into the cell. …Maybe.” He gets up and goes to the whiskey they have stashed beside the huge bottle of rum. Rum they drink like water. Whiskey is for those special occasions when you need something a little stronger. “You could always seduce him.”
Sam snorts. “Yeah, okay, because I’m always all over everyone like you.”
“I can’t help it if everyone thinks I’m the dreamier captain.”
“I hate you sometimes.”
“You love every minute of this shared captain-ship with me.”
“Go to sleep, Dean, for fuck’s sake.”
Working Title: Raiders and Rebels: The Capture
Author: lilchibibunny
Rating: The whole thing is R; this section is safely PG-13.
Word Count: This snippet is 4,549.
Characters/Pairing: No pairings as of yet. Heavy emphasis on Castiel. Zachariah, Dean, and Sam also appear.
Disclaimer: Characters to Kripke and the CW.
Spoilers: THEY ARE PIRATES.
Warnings: Obviously this is an AU. Cursing, mild violence, things of a sexual nature and eventual slash in later chapters.
Summary: Castiel's been raised in Zachariah's inner circle, so it's no wonder that the first time Zachariah leaves, pirates wash ashore.
Author's Note: I have no idea how this got so out of hand. In case you haven't heard, this is a weirdly serious pirate!AU.
Once the entire thing is finished I'll go back and revise it and hopefully get my wonderful beta who has been following it every time I update it to give it a look over, and I'll go ahead and do a masterpost. This is a draft of the the first few words; I will probably go back and add more detail when I've got the whole thing completed.
You have oywidapoodles to blame for inspiring this, and allhisengines and belledewinter for always being on AIM for me to moan about how ridiculous I am about this AU.
Castiel does not remember a lot of his childhood before he was thrust into Zachariah’s world. His father must have not been around a lot, for all his memories are of his mother. On top of a horse’s saddle while his mother smiled. Splashing water while she washed his hair, laughing. All good memories, luckily.
He once asked Zachariah why his mother gave him up. He merely replied, “Your father belonged to this society, and your mother was a dirty whore who had the fortune of capturing his heart. And although she did have his heart,” he felt the necessity to add, “you are rightfully ours.”
He vaguely recalls his mother holding his hand as they went up what seemed like the biggest staircase in the world, as it twirled upwards in a white, marble heaven.
“Castiel,” his mother murmurs, “this man is going to take care of you. He’s going to give you a better future."
“Mama,” Castiel, five years old, cries, clinging to her skirt. Tears coming from his eyes, wetting the material. He doesn’t sob like normal children, he just sniffles when his nose starts to run.
“Please, darling. He’s going to give you a future."
“I want Mama, please," the little boy says, looking up at his mother with impossibly blue eyes. She smiles gently, kneels down.
Wiping the tears from his lashes, she kisses both of his eyes closed. “We’ll see you soon, lovely." She takes off a necklace and a silver band, putting the ring on the thin metal before clasping it around his neck. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he parrots, waiting until the necklace is safely resting on his chest before trying to bury himself in his mother’s skirts.
“Take the woman away.” And suddenly his mother is gone and Castiel is screaming her name, his little legs not getting to the door in time and it shuts, landing heavily in place. “Put the boy in the green room. I think I’ll send him to Uriel until he’s ready."
Castiel doesn’t sob, he just lets the tears run down his face as his sniffles echo down the large staircase.
And here he is, twenty years later, studying to work under Zachariah, one of the most powerful men in his area. The governor of the colony, Zachariah is connected to almost all of the ports in the area, and holds quite a iron grip of them. Zachariah is ruthless, enjoying having such a position of power and the sadistic nature to do beyond what is needed to keep them in line and out of pirates’ hands.
Castiel doesn’t share Zachariah’s passion for bloodshed and torture. He’s escaped most of the “lessons” by hiding out in the library, telling Zachariah he’s learning about the bloody history of the colony but instead studying ancient Greek and Roman culture. Castiel did in fact brush himself up on the current situation by dressing down and roaming around the local taverns and even made friends with the local blacksmith, Andrew. Andrew had apparently just moved in the area within a few months, but he did fine work. When Castiel asked about his background, Andrew just smiled. “What about your background?” he remarked, and when Castiel didn’t answer, Andrew said, “Perhaps we can leave the past where it belongs.”
When Castiel is supposed to be in the dungeons, questioning the outlaws about pirates, he instead goes to the blacksmith to hear Andrew’s stories. Andrew’s father used to be a pirate until he was hung for his activities; when he’d settle into port, he would tell Andrew all about what had happened since he was gone. Obviously, the stories were embellished, but they were exciting and much better than whipping a man in a cobwebbed-filled dungeon. (Castiel had made friends with most of the staff in Zachariah’s residence, so it was no big affair to convince them to lie to Zachariah’s officers.)
Castiel stares out of the window until Zachariah hisses, “Castiel. Stop standing there and come to attention.”
He obediently does so. “Yes, sir?”
“I need to show you my daily ritual before I’m off.” He raises an eyebrow. “Also, I’m having you meet my head officer. Then dinner and I will make preparations for tomorrow.”
Castiel just nods. Despite having lived most of his life under Zachariah’s rule being groomed for this position so Zachariah can move higher up the ladder, the governor still doesn’t feel comfortable leaving Castiel in charge.
It’s understandable.
________________________________________
“And I always take a run-through of the dungeons before I go to bed,” Zachariah finishes, watching as Castiel nods. “Did you get all of that, boy?”
“Yes, sir.” Zachariah paces in the library, watching Castiel as he goes from left to right. Beady eyes trace his breathing as Castiel stands in place, waiting for Zachariah to continue.
“I will be gone for two weeks. Business should not take me that long, perhaps I’ll be back sooner.”
Castiel nods.
Zachariah watches for more of a reaction, and when none is given, he huffs, shaking his head as he walks up to the glass container of brandy. “If something happens when I’m gone, you are to first send a letter my way, and then to Uriel.”
“What if I am unable to correspond?” Castiel inquires, tilting his head to the side.
Zachariah’s laugh is more like a bark. “Then you will find a way to get in contact with me. Nothing is more important than keeping my manor safe.” He takes a long drink of his brandy, and Castiel’s lip twitches in contempt. No, he thinks, nothing is more important than keeping these people safe. Sure, he’ll keep the manor in good condition. But when push comes to shove, Castiel is going to make sure the town is secure. Zachariah may not care who dies and who lives, but Castiel sure as hell does.
“You need to stop daydreaming,” Zachariah barks, bringing Castiel from his thoughts. “Stupid boy, how are you to run a town when you can’t pay attention to me for five seconds?”
“Apologies, sir.”
Zachariah sighs. “When I come back, we are to arrange a wedding date.”
“Wedding date?”
“I have offered you to the governor of a colony on Hispaniola.” Zachariah practically preens as he talks about it. “His daughter is quite beautiful, and when I showed her a picture of you, she was happy to have your hand.” He snorts. “Apparently she also has a soft spot for blue eyes.”
Castiel already wants to drown himself. He was hoping to avoid an arranged marriage. His first experience with romance was a whore in a room above the tavern, and he was loath to repeat the experience. Not that he wasn’t attracted to people, it was just…he preferred reading about the experience of love to the actual thing. Besides, most women he had known in Zachariah’s circle often had different intentions and had affairs behind their husband’s back. Or sometimes they were frigid and the husbands had affairs. Either way, Castiel was fine unmarried. Not like he could say that. “I would like to meet my future bride, at least.”
Zachariah scoffed. “We start preparations for the marriage when I return.”
Castiel touched the thin metal that hung around his neck. Perhaps it was time to get married, have a wife. Perhaps she wasn’t that bad.
“Although perhaps I should have gotten you a husband by the enthusiasm you seem to be having for a future wife.”
Castiel again kept silent. The gender of the person didn’t matter, it was the fact that they would still probably be either completely dull or power-hungry that turned him off of the idea.
Castiel didn’t think that he was pigeon-holing the entire upper class. He was just basing it off of what he knew. (Of course, he didn’t consider himself part of the upper crust.)
________________________________________
Zachariah has a few minor melt-downs before actually getting on his ship. Castiel sees him off, and when he is gone, he tells the head officer to check on the house.
Andrew seems surprised to see Castiel. “I thought you had business at the manor?” Andrew says with a smile.
“I am tired of the manor,” Castiel moans, taking a seat in one of the crude chairs not completely covered in soot.
“Perhaps you would like it more out in the world?” Andrew leans against the iron rod he’s been using to stoke the fires, grinning at Castiel.
Castiel stares at Andrew and his lip quirks. “I wouldn’t survive out there, Andrew. I only know that manor. Reading about the world is much different than living it.”
Andrew shrugs, and puts the iron rod aside, picking up his tongs. “You’d be surprised, Castiel. From what I understand of you, you’re a fighter. As much as you’d like to deny that,” he adds, chuckling.
“Why…what makes you say that?” Castiel says, frowning.
“You try and pretend to be the bookish-type, but we’ve practiced with swords and you picked up pretty well.” Andrew places a large metal rod in the coals, both of them watching the fire as it licks the air. “I’ve seen your temper, and you move fast for someone who claims to read all day long. You have good reflexes for a bookworm,” Andrew teases.
Castiel opens his mouth, and closes it. There had been one day in the town market where a man was abusing a slave child, and Castiel’s temper rose quickly. He had the man kneeling in pain with two swift moves, and the child took residence in the manor for a couple days until Castiel could find him a respectable home. Andrew must have seen the altercation. “I have been raised by a man who appreciates the rougher side of power,” Castiel says carefully. “I’ve probably picked up a few things along the way.”
Andrew glances at him and shakes his head. “You’ll probably need them.” Before Castiel can comment, Andrew grins. “So since you’re here, would you like a story?”
Castiel asks for a short one (since he does have responsibilities to tend to later), and Andrew instead opts for the beginnings of Anne Bonney, a ruthless female pirate said to rule the seas with her lover, Calico Jack. Andrew shouts the words, grinning as he beats the heated rod into a flatter shape. Castiel asks a few questions, but he likes the way Andrew spins a tale.
________________________________________
Castiel lets the officers go ahead and check the dungeons. He gives them express orders just to check and if there were any problems to fetch him immediately.
They come back disappointed that everything is fine. Castiel nods and sends them to their night duties. He then went to the kitchen and had dinner with the cooks as usual, enjoying their gossip as a smile played on his lips.
It was quiet without Zachariah. Peaceful. If this was the way he could run his own colony, Castiel would be okay with that.
________________________________________
It must be at least one in the morning when Castiel awakens to a small chambermaid clutching his shoulder and shaking it violently. He mumbles, still half-sleep, but she keeps on with her motions.
It’s only until he sees the other men standing at the doorway which causes him to bolt upright in his bed.
“Little miss said you was the one in charge,” the one holding the torch sneers, and even in the dim firelight it’s obvious the man has very few teeth.
“I am.” Castiel is strangely calm, mostly worried for the little chambermaid shaking beside him.
The other dirty man with dredlocks motions with his sword. “You’re needed.”
Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “May I get dressed first?”
The two men exchange glances and whispers. Then the dredlocked one replies, “A minute to throw a jacket on and then we leave.” Castiel nods, quickly flipping the covers off of him. As he quickly dresses and throws a jacket on, he kisses the chambermaid on the forehead and tells her to hide in the closet in case one of the men stays behind.
But they don’t. Both of them escort Castiel out of Zachariah’s residence, although they do seem rather indignant about it.
________________________________________
“May I as where you are taking me?”
“No,” the one holding the torch replies.
“We got orders to bring you,” the other with the sword adds, “not to explain.”
They are crossing the town. Castiel sees the huge ship at port. The flag they fly is as black at the night. It’s obviously got other symbols on it, but it is much too dark to see them. Even so, the colors give them away.
Pirates.
________________________________________
The tavern is in quite a mood tonight, debauchery and mayhem rampant both outside and inside the building. Girls squeal, holding their skirts as ragged men chase after them, growling and laughing. There are drunk men getting sick, others singing loudly.
When the cat’s away, the mice will play.
The back of the tavern is where Castiel is lead. There’s a table in the back, surrounded mostly by women and a couple of more serious looking men than the drunk ones outside. As the group of Castiel and the ruffians approach, the women are waved away. One of the men whispers in a woman’s ear, winks at her, and laughs as she scuttles off.
Castiel just stares.
“Leave us,” the other says, and the two men who brought Castiel quickly go for the bar (and presumably the women who are standing beside it). The attention goes back to the blue-eyed gentleman in the nice jacket. “Please, take a seat,” voice smooth like the fancy whiskey Zachariah would pawn off at parties.
Castiel does so, his movements careful and fluid.
The man with the lighter hair speaks up first, almost impulsively. His green eyes watch Castiel closely, wandering over his face and his jacket quickly. Sizing me up, Castiel thinks. “Tell us your name, sailor.”
“My name is Castiel,” he replies evenly, “and I am not a sailor.”
The man laughs, leaning back on his elbows. “My mistake. Not often you see a stare like that from someone who doesn’t skim the water every once in a while.” He has a rip of fabric on his head, a bright red. Some of it is stained dark with sweat, and his hair, on the shorter side, flops over the top edge. His freckles still stand out despite his sun-damaged skin, marking his nose and on his cheeks. His smile is easy and friendly, easy to trust. Dangerous.
“What’s your last name?” the other one asks. He has darker, longer hair, wearing a Napoleon-like hat tipped to the side. It’s obviously seen better days, fraying around worn edges, but it still looks fine, a couple of feathers jutting from the right brim. He has a torn piece of red fabric loosely tied around his neck several times, also dark with sweat.
“Does it matter?” Castiel asks.
The one with the hat smiles a bit, and a dimple shows. “Why would you think that?”
“I assume that you are pirates,” Castiel says, “which means that once I give you the information you obviously seek, you will kill me.” He states it like a fact, and surprisingly saying it aloud makes him calmer about the situation. As if stating it automatically made it inevitable, so he should no longer be afraid of it being a mere possibility.
Both men stare at him for a few seconds before the lighter-haired one breaks out into a hearty laugh. “Did you hear that, Sam?” he says, clapping the man with the hat on the back. “He assumes we will kill him!” He looks to Castiel and actually winks. “I like you. I like him, Sam.” He says it like they are friends, and Castiel is having a little bit of a hard time. Pirates are supposed to be more menacing than this, aren’t they? With missing limbs and peg legs and eye-patches. Not obviously attractive and acting as if Castiel is a new friend they brought to have a few drinks with.
Sam, the man with the hat, is grinning as well. “Well, you did assume correctly that we are, in fact, pirates. But we won’t kill you.” His stare goes behind Castiel and his eyes-also a strange blend of brown and green-light up. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“…Have you now,” Castiel replies, eyebrow quirking upward and the lighter-haired man laughs again.
“Oh, I really like this one, Sam.” He meets Castiel’s eyes, obviously amused. “Our inside man has told us about you, and he thinks you’re worth saving.”
“Inside man?”
Sam nods. “We don’t like to go in blind on a job like this. After all, Zachariah is a huge name around these parts. We had to be careful.” He waves in a forward motion, looking behind Castiel. “C’mon, Andy, have a drink with us.”
When Castiel looks behind him, it’s definitely his friend Andrew who walks up, almost bashfully. “Hello, captains. It’s good to see you again.”
Sam frowns. “C’mon, Andy, you don’t have to call us ‘captain’.”
“Yeah, Andy,” the other man says, patting the seat next to him, “you have known us for a pretty goddamn long time.”
“Sorry, Dean,” Andrew replies, his grin getting more relaxed, “I just thought that you might want to keep up the whole high-and-mighty captain thing you obviously have going.”
Dean grins, and quickly pours Andrew-Andy-a drink, shoving it at him. Then he brings his green eyes back to Castiel. “Would you like a drink as well?”
“No.”
Dean grins and pours one anyway, sliding it over to him.
Sam’s the one who speaks up. “How did you figure we were pirates, Castiel?”
Castiel shrugs, pushing the drink ever-so-slightly to the side. “The flag when I was dragged by the port by your associates.” His words get larger and his tone gets more clipped. Castiel is fighting between anger and anxiety and he’s keeping a fairly cool head. “Unusually black.”
“Told you the flag is a dead giveaway, Dean.”
“And that’s why we agreed to fly it at nighttime, Sam,” Dean replies, elbowing his brother.
Sam turns his attention back to Castiel. “You’re an educated man.”
“Yes,” Castiel answers, sending a small glare to Andy.
“We’d like to know a few things.”
“I’ll tell you what you want to know.” Castiel isn’t up for arguing. Besides, if they raid the town now, Castiel will be dead anyway when Zachariah returns. He really doesn’t have any allegiance to Zachariah.
Dean puts on a pout, and Castiel can’t believe this man is captain of a pirate ship right now. “We haven’t even threatened torture yet.” He takes off the shock of red fabric on his head, placing it on the table. “You’re taking all the fun out of this interrogation.”
“However, I do want to know something first.” Castiel is keeping his eyes on Sam, who actually seems to be taking this seriously.
Dean grins at Sam. “Ooh, Sam, maybe these are his demands.”
“Go on,” Sam says, scowling at his brother when he laughs and takes a shot with Andy.
“I don’t care what happens to the officers or Zachariah, but I do care about the people in this town.” Castiel doesn’t realize he’s staring at Sam. “You can raid the town for everything you’d like. I’ll even tell you where the important documents are held. Just keep the people safe.”
Sam is quiet, and then looks over to Andy. “You weren’t lying,” and his tone is practically unreadable.
Andy nods. “Told you.”
“What did you tell them, Andrew?” Castiel demands. He can’t believe he didn’t see it. All the pirate stories, those weren’t his father’s, they were his.
Dean is actually serious when he answers Castiel. “He told us you weren’t meant for the uppity assholes of the rich class. He said you were more comfortable down at our level.” When Dean grins, it’s slow and almost seductive. Castiel blushes, which thankfully is masked by the candlelight in the tavern. “Andy said you liked the pirate stories, practically begged for them.”
“I-I-”
“We’re bringing you with us,” Sam says, standing up.
Castiel immediately begins, “What will happen to the tow-”
“The pillaging won’t happen tonight,” Dean answers, elbowing Andy to stand. “We’re just scoping out the area. We’ll wait until we’re better prepared, when we have a plan.”
Castiel looks at them frantically, palms on the table, his temper rising. “I just can’t leave these people. There’s no one here for them.”
Dean nudges Andy. “Round up the troops, we’re leaving. And for fuck’s sake, tell them if I see any women on board this time, they are getting thrown overboard.” Andy nods, and goes on his way, shouting and yelling to gather the attention of the crew.
“We didn’t say you had a choice in leaving,” Sam replies, and goes up to Castiel, arm outreached to assist him in moving forward.
Sam is taller than Castiel expected, but the smaller man is much quicker. He grabs the arm Sam’s reached out to him and quickly moves to Sam’s back, wrenching the wrist in an awkward position. Sam cries out (and Castiel is almost sure it’s more in surprise than pain), and when Castiel starts to speak, he finds there is a sword to his neck.
Castiel then understands why Dean is a captain of a pirate ship. Dean purposefully digs in the blade, making sure to draw blood. “You’ll let go of my brother’s wrist right now or else I will watch you bleed to death on this table.” When Castiel looks at Dean, he knows that the man means every word. He has gone from the silly drinker that laughed along with Andy to coiled steel in every movement, waiting to strike. “I don’t mind finding another informant.”
Sam chuckles as Castiel lets go, slowly showing his hands to Dean. “He’s actually pretty strong, Dean.”
“Really? He looks kind of gangly.”
Sam jerks Castiel’s arm forward and then thumps a large hand onto his back, forcing his chest against the table. “Sorry, but you’ll understand if we cuff you now.”
Castiel looks up at Dean from his position on the table. “Promise me the town will stay safe in my absence and I will go quietly.”
“We’ve got someone to take your place late tomorrow, when the town is aware you’ve been taken. Someone we trust and who knows how to deal with things like that.” Sam slowly takes his hands away from Castiel, who rights himself and brushes off his jacket.
Dean leans in close, and gently prods the sword into Castiel’s side. “Now move.”
Castiel does so without a word.
________________________________________
Dean still holds the sword at his side while Castiel walks in front of them to the ship. “When is Bobby supposed to get here?”
“Tomorrow around one in the afternoon,” Sam answers. “He knows the score. He’ll stay until that bastard comes back into play, and then he’ll give us what we need to go in and take what we want.”
“Good. I want to bring this fucker down so we can move up to the bigger prey.”
Castiel doesn’t say anything. When they get in the ship, Castiel is taken to the small set of prison cells on the boat. He notices they have tried to set up bedding, given him a couple pillows. The floor is clean and there’s biscuits on the floor. “Have to spend the first night here,” Dean says. “Just can’t trust people these days.”
He seems surprised when Castiel just stares at him, and then goes in of his own volition and closes the door behind him, making sure it locks. “Yes, Captain.”
________________________________________
Andy is waiting for Sam and Dean, walking to the door as soon as they come in. “I promise, he’s a good one.”
“We know, Andy,” Sam assures him, smiling to ease him down.
“How long did you say he hung around for, Andy?” Dean asks, thunking his sword into the table. Sam looks disapprovingly.
Andy shrugs. “Almost as long as I had been there. The second week is when he found me.”
“You’ve fought with him?”
“Only what we called practice.” Andy frowns. “Almost took a limb a couple of times. He’s fast and he’ll deny it up at down, but he’s good with a weapon.” He scratches his head and the two brothers wait for Andy to continue. “When he’s angry, he moves twice as fast. He likes to pretend to be ignorant when you’re just joking around, but when push comes to shove, he’s in the battle.”
“Hmn.” Dean sinks back into a chair, brow furrowed in concentration.
“Did he do something?”
Sam grins. “Tried to pull a fast one on me when we wouldn’t answer his question about the town being taken care of.”
“He’s strangely protective of them,” Andy agrees. “You’d think he’s all reserved and shit, but that little guy hides some deep emotions.”
Dean looks up at Andy. “Great work, per always, Andy. Knock back a drink and take it easy with the crew. We’ll be on the sea a few days before we can stop at Tortuga with supplies.”
Andy rolls his eyes. “I hate the French there. Fuckin’ pickpockets.”
“Spanish are worse,” Sam reminds him, and Andy acknowledges it with a shrug. “Tomorrow, Castiel is to go in Victor’s room for the interrogation.”
“If Vic bitches,” Dean adds, “tell him to can it or I’ll captain all over that shit.”
Andy laughs, salutes, and shuts the door quietly behind him.
The brothers sit in silence for a while before Dean says, “Quick little fucker.”
Sam laughs. “Yeah. Really jumped into action there.” He gives Dean a small glance. “Think we could recruit him?”
Dean’s face clouds in thought. “I mean, he came onto the boat without cuffs. Let himself into the cell. …Maybe.” He gets up and goes to the whiskey they have stashed beside the huge bottle of rum. Rum they drink like water. Whiskey is for those special occasions when you need something a little stronger. “You could always seduce him.”
Sam snorts. “Yeah, okay, because I’m always all over everyone like you.”
“I can’t help it if everyone thinks I’m the dreamier captain.”
“I hate you sometimes.”
“You love every minute of this shared captain-ship with me.”
“Go to sleep, Dean, for fuck’s sake.”