Under Siege, Part Five, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Under Siege (Part Five--I'll get an index up soon)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, John, Balthazar, Lucifer/Castiel
Word Count: 2304
Rating: NC-17 (for theme)
Summary: Near the end of Season Six, after "The Man Who Would Be King"...Castiel has not been seen or heard from since his last conversation with Dean at Bobby's. Time marches on without him and Sam and Dean keep hunting. One night Sam wakes to sounds he can't place and Balthazar appears, leaving a very wounded, unresponsive & comatose Castiel in their care before he disappears. Thus begins a mystery that will stretch the already thin resources of the Winchester boys to their limits...and may break more than one of them before the end.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is a fic that ate my brain, continues to eat my brain. It is partially the fault of varkelton and the conversation begun at her house. Fair warning that the topic of that conversation was what situations either of us could conceivably actually slash Castiel with either of the boys....so while this has not yet gone to a slashy place, it very well may andso, Lucifer takes the stage, and that leads to sex of the not entirely consensual As to warnings for this part? More whumpage, non-con, memories of violence and rape.
Castiel quivered against Sam's bigger body. Not Sam
He wasn’t sure where they were, and the room was dark. The hand on his shoulder held him effortlessly, moved him unerringly until a room started to become visible.
It wasn't what he expected.
Sam's hand moved away from him as soon as they stopped moving and the room was solid around them. "I hope you don't mind the honeymoon suite, I thought it appropriate."
Not Sam. "Where?"
He blinked into the still too bright around the edges face that was now more Lucifer than Sam.
"Does it matter?"
Castiel dropped his gaze, shook his head. Of course it didn't. He had failed. Again.
The world would come to an end and the blame landed solely on his shoulders. All his arrogance, all his manipulation…and when it mattered, he couldn't deliver on a simple promise.
Fingers closed on his chin, tilted his face up. "He doesn't blame you, Cas. He knows it was too much to ask of you. This is his fault, not yours."
He shook his head, pulling away. "No. I don't believe that."
"He has always expected too much of you."
Castiel tried to block out the words, the grace they offered. Sam had only asked one thing of him, and he hadn't been able to give it.
Lucifer's hands were on him again, gentle and soft. It was a lie, and he knew it, but Castiel’s eyes were closed and he still hurt in ways he didn’t understand. “I can make it better, Castiel…heal you…make you whole again.”
The first touch of his lips made Castiel stiffen, but the kiss was soft, Sam’s tongue sliding over his , tender and if he kept his eyes closed, if he didn’t think too hard, he could pretend it was the same as it had been there in that basement.
Castiel was being guided back, toward the large bed. Sam’s hands slid down over his body, sliding into the sweats he’d worn since the Winchesters had found him, dressed him. His hand was cool as it circled around him, tugging on his cock lightly.
“That’s it, just let go.” He was falling, clutching at the hand that held him until the bed rose up to cradle him. The comfort didn’t last as Sam’s body followed, covering him, guiding him up onto the bed, rolling him over. Big hands soothed over his back and down, and he was suddenly aware that the meager shelter of the borrowed sweat pants was gone, and those hand were sweeping over his cheeks, opening him.
Castiel whined and tried to move away, but Sam’s voice was soft in his ear, murmuring to him that he was safe, that he was loved, the all he need do is let go, let him in…and it wasn’t Sam. He knew it wasn’t Sam, but it wasn’t Crowley either…it wasn’t violence and struggle and pain, and almost before he was fully cognizant of it, Sam’s cock was easing inside of him on a slip of lube that he never saw.
Memory burned inside him, claws and blades and cocks as big as fists inside him. He shook his head against it. This was not the same. Only it was. This wasn’t Sam comforting him, this wasn’t anything but a parody of affection, of love. Lucifer controlled Sam’s body, and the way it moved inside of him, the way Sam’s hand circled Castiel’s hard cock and stroked it, and to his burning shame, Castiel was coming into the sheets beneath him.
Lucifer continued fucking him, slow almost lazy, his fingers caressing through the sweat building up on Castiel’s body. When at long last, Sam’s cock flooded his ass with heat, Castiel was spent, nearly asleep. Lucifer kissed over him as he pulled out, down Castiel’s back and over his ass, rolling him onto his back. “Sleep, little brother…we have all the time in the world.”
"We don't have time-"
"Dean-"
"No. We have to find them."
His father shoved him down into the chair. "We are not running out there without a little more thinking and a whole hell of a lot more explaining what the fuck just happened."
Dean fumed, but tried to reign in the fear that was fueling his rage. "What just happened? Your fucking son just fucking sacrificed himself. Again." Dean closed his eyes and willed the sight away, Sam's face as Lucifer looked out at Dean. The last time he'd seen it, Lucifer had beat the living shit out of him before Sam somehow wrested control back. "And if we don't find him…" Dean shook his head. He really didn't know what was going to happen now.
If Crowley was to be believed, and Dean wasn't kidding himself there, Lucifer was more interested in Crowley and hell than fighting Michael….and they'd already averted the apocalypse…so everything from here was off script.
"We have no idea where he would go, Dean." Bobby said. "And we know full well that he can go anywhere he wants."
"Damnit Bobby."
His father shoved a cup of coffee at him and Dean took it, swallowing the need to run headlong out the door and into whatever was out there.
"We know he wants Crowley, and he took Castiel, probably as bait." John said, pacing the kitchen now.
Dean licked his lips and looked away. It wasn't bait. Dean knew that look, knew from the look on Castiel's face that he knew too. The demons had learned how to fuck their victims over from a master. Wherever they were, Lucifer was likely tormenting Cas in any number of ways, from simple torture to playing with his head to literally fucking him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how Castiel looked when they'd first found him, what that meant he had been through…and Dean had promised himself he would keep the angel safe…though at this point he doubted he should even be surprised that he couldn't keep yet another promise.
He exhaled and pushed the paralyzing self-doubt away, cradling the coffee cup to him and breathing deep of the smell. "Okay. We know that Sam beat him once, we have to assume Sam is fighting him now." He didn't want to think about the alternative, that Lucifer had torn down the memory wall and Sam was lost inside himself.
"What does that tell us?" John asked, his eyes narrowing.
In the hours since Lucifer had taken Castiel away, his father had started to be more like his old self. Dean could almost see him compartmentalizing, shoving the shit he couldn't deal with behind walls and boarding them up until he was left with the bare bones of who John Winchester had been and the incoming information he needed to function.
Dean sipped at the coffee. "Well, the last time…" He swallowed and pushed the memory back. "…it took him some time to get a grip on him, but he there were little moments when it seemed more like Sam than Lucifer. We can hope he breaks free enough to give us a clue."
"I don't like sitting around." John grumbled.
Dean snorted. "No, really, Dad?" He put his coffee down on the table that wasn't quite right since he'd thrown it and pulled both hands up over his face and through his short hair. "I need some air." He stood and headed for the door.
"You sure that's wise? Crowley-"
"Crowley took off the minute Lucifer showed up. Any of his cronies hanging around…" Dean pulled Ruby's knife from the sheath on his hip and twirled it. "…let 'em come at me."
He left his father and Bobby in the kitchen and headed out to where his car waited him. Some part of him wanted to just get in it and find Sam. Not that he knew where to look, but somehow something inside him believed that together they could find him.
The sun was setting, shadows stretching out around him. He sat on the hood of the Impala and tried to clear his head. He stretched and laid back, letting the warm metal under his body soak into him.
"You look tired, Dean."
His hand tightened on the hilt of the knife, but otherwise he didn't move. "Might be because I am." Dean answered.
"We've never actually met."
"I'm going to guess you're Michael." Dean turned his head, looking over the body Michael wore. The man was old, probably into his seventies, and even though Michael stood tall, Dean imagined on his own he was pretty stooped over. "Unless you're here to tell me how to find Sam and Castiel, I'm not interested."
"Your brother is as good as gone, Dean. His soul is ravaged, and Lucifer will have torn down any defenses he might have had to protect him. He won't be coming back."
Michael had moved close, his hand lifting to caress the side of Dean's face. "Castiel, on the other hand…we might still save him."
Dean closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear that…not any of it. "You have always underestimated us." Dean said, sitting up now, pulling away from the hand that reached for him. "You can go to hell."
Michael laughed, nodding. "I've been there. No intention of going back."
"No, you'll just slaughter half of heaven to get what you want." Dean slid off the car and turned to look at him. "I meant what you said, unless you're here to give me directions to my brother and Castiel, I'm not interested."
"I would have thought you'd be pleased that I killed Raphael. He didn't like you Winchesters very much."
A slow rage began to burn inside him and Dean took a step toward the archangel. “I don’t know if you noticed while you were up there killing your brothers, but things haven’t been going too damn well. You’ve got angels killing angels and angels working with demons and demons trying to break into purgatory, the dead are alive and the rest of us are dying, my brother has been stolen by Lucifer and I’m pretty certain that he’s torturing my friend, but you want me to be happy because you killed your brother?”
“Dean?”
He didn’t look away, even as his father came closer. He didn’t want Michael fluttering away now that he was good and angry.
Michael however turned his attention to the elder Winchester. “I see what you mean about the dead walking the earth. I was unaware you’d been resurrected, John.”
“Who the fuck are you?” John asked and Dean snorted.
“Dad, this is Michael.”
He could feel his father bristle. “You’re one of the assholes jerking my boys around.”
“I would watch your tone.” Michael drew himself up, sneering at the both of them.
Dean turned his back to Michael, grabbing his father’s arm to pull him away.
“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”
Dean stopped. “You going to tell me how to find Sam?”
“I could.”
He huffed and looked back. “Let me know when you decide you will. Until then, get lost.”
He started back toward the house, not looking back even as Michael’s wings fluttered him away.
Blood covers him, his flesh raw, his skin shredded…he shivers, pulled inside himself, eyes closed…the air is super-charged and hot, burning his lungs as he gasps and chokes…trembles and waits for the torment to begin anew…but something is different now…quiet settles…
Sam opened his eyes, half expecting to find his skin ripped open and bloods smeared over his flesh.
Instead he was in a soft bed, in a large hotel room, a warm body spooned up to him. He breathed in carefully, afraid to move. The warm body moved, whimpered. Castiel. Sam was suddenly aware of the nakedness, both his own and Castiel’s, and the fact that his cock was trapped between the ass cheeks of the angel.
Lucifer had used him to rape Castiel. Sam’s stomach lurched and he pulled away, sitting up and pulling the sheet with him to cover himself. Castiel groaned behind him, rolling onto his back. “Cas?” Sam said softly, not turning to look.
He felt the bed shift, Castiel moving. “Where are we?”
“Sam?” Castiel’s hand touched him and Sam stood. He nodded tightly.
“For the moment.” Lucifer seemed to be gone, but so was the wall of memory…images spilled freely through his brain and any minute it was going to be too much. “You need to call Dean. Tell him where you are. You need to run.”
“I don’t know…” Castiel was up now too, his nakedness seeming to be unnoticed. He came close, looking like he wanted to touch Sam…kiss him even.
“Did I…” Sam shook his head. It was a stupid question. It was obvious he had. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Castiel shook his head. “You did not. Even Lucifer was gentle.”
As if the sound of his name had awakened him, Sam could suddenly feel Lucifer inside him. “Cas, now. Call Dean. I can’t hold him for long.” Sam moved to the phone on the desk, dialing Dean’s number, thrusting the phone at Castiel and moving to find something to tell him where they were. He pulled a pad of hotel stationary out and dropped it on the desk before memory stabbed through him….blades cutting into him, shoving into his ass like a cock, ripping him open…
He could hear Cas talking as he doubled over, the memory stirring up as Lucifer’s presence rose within him. “Run, Cas!” Sam gasped out, shoving the angel toward the door. He was losing the fight to stay in control, vomiting as the pain crescendoed.
“No, stay, Cas.” Lucifer said, taking the phone out of Castiel’s hand and hanging it up. “I’m not done showing you how much I love you.”
Title: Under Siege (Part Five--I'll get an index up soon)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, John, Balthazar, Lucifer/Castiel
Word Count: 2304
Rating: NC-17 (for theme)
Summary: Near the end of Season Six, after "The Man Who Would Be King"...Castiel has not been seen or heard from since his last conversation with Dean at Bobby's. Time marches on without him and Sam and Dean keep hunting. One night Sam wakes to sounds he can't place and Balthazar appears, leaving a very wounded, unresponsive & comatose Castiel in their care before he disappears. Thus begins a mystery that will stretch the already thin resources of the Winchester boys to their limits...and may break more than one of them before the end.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is a fic that ate my brain, continues to eat my brain. It is partially the fault of varkelton and the conversation begun at her house. Fair warning that the topic of that conversation was what situations either of us could conceivably actually slash Castiel with either of the boys....so while this has not yet gone to a slashy place, it very well may andso, Lucifer takes the stage, and that leads to sex of the not entirely consensual As to warnings for this part? More whumpage, non-con, memories of violence and rape.
Castiel quivered against Sam's bigger body. Not Sam
He wasn’t sure where they were, and the room was dark. The hand on his shoulder held him effortlessly, moved him unerringly until a room started to become visible.
It wasn't what he expected.
Sam's hand moved away from him as soon as they stopped moving and the room was solid around them. "I hope you don't mind the honeymoon suite, I thought it appropriate."
Not Sam. "Where?"
He blinked into the still too bright around the edges face that was now more Lucifer than Sam.
"Does it matter?"
Castiel dropped his gaze, shook his head. Of course it didn't. He had failed. Again.
The world would come to an end and the blame landed solely on his shoulders. All his arrogance, all his manipulation…and when it mattered, he couldn't deliver on a simple promise.
Fingers closed on his chin, tilted his face up. "He doesn't blame you, Cas. He knows it was too much to ask of you. This is his fault, not yours."
He shook his head, pulling away. "No. I don't believe that."
"He has always expected too much of you."
Castiel tried to block out the words, the grace they offered. Sam had only asked one thing of him, and he hadn't been able to give it.
Lucifer's hands were on him again, gentle and soft. It was a lie, and he knew it, but Castiel’s eyes were closed and he still hurt in ways he didn’t understand. “I can make it better, Castiel…heal you…make you whole again.”
The first touch of his lips made Castiel stiffen, but the kiss was soft, Sam’s tongue sliding over his , tender and if he kept his eyes closed, if he didn’t think too hard, he could pretend it was the same as it had been there in that basement.
Castiel was being guided back, toward the large bed. Sam’s hands slid down over his body, sliding into the sweats he’d worn since the Winchesters had found him, dressed him. His hand was cool as it circled around him, tugging on his cock lightly.
“That’s it, just let go.” He was falling, clutching at the hand that held him until the bed rose up to cradle him. The comfort didn’t last as Sam’s body followed, covering him, guiding him up onto the bed, rolling him over. Big hands soothed over his back and down, and he was suddenly aware that the meager shelter of the borrowed sweat pants was gone, and those hand were sweeping over his cheeks, opening him.
Castiel whined and tried to move away, but Sam’s voice was soft in his ear, murmuring to him that he was safe, that he was loved, the all he need do is let go, let him in…and it wasn’t Sam. He knew it wasn’t Sam, but it wasn’t Crowley either…it wasn’t violence and struggle and pain, and almost before he was fully cognizant of it, Sam’s cock was easing inside of him on a slip of lube that he never saw.
Memory burned inside him, claws and blades and cocks as big as fists inside him. He shook his head against it. This was not the same. Only it was. This wasn’t Sam comforting him, this wasn’t anything but a parody of affection, of love. Lucifer controlled Sam’s body, and the way it moved inside of him, the way Sam’s hand circled Castiel’s hard cock and stroked it, and to his burning shame, Castiel was coming into the sheets beneath him.
Lucifer continued fucking him, slow almost lazy, his fingers caressing through the sweat building up on Castiel’s body. When at long last, Sam’s cock flooded his ass with heat, Castiel was spent, nearly asleep. Lucifer kissed over him as he pulled out, down Castiel’s back and over his ass, rolling him onto his back. “Sleep, little brother…we have all the time in the world.”
"We don't have time-"
"Dean-"
"No. We have to find them."
His father shoved him down into the chair. "We are not running out there without a little more thinking and a whole hell of a lot more explaining what the fuck just happened."
Dean fumed, but tried to reign in the fear that was fueling his rage. "What just happened? Your fucking son just fucking sacrificed himself. Again." Dean closed his eyes and willed the sight away, Sam's face as Lucifer looked out at Dean. The last time he'd seen it, Lucifer had beat the living shit out of him before Sam somehow wrested control back. "And if we don't find him…" Dean shook his head. He really didn't know what was going to happen now.
If Crowley was to be believed, and Dean wasn't kidding himself there, Lucifer was more interested in Crowley and hell than fighting Michael….and they'd already averted the apocalypse…so everything from here was off script.
"We have no idea where he would go, Dean." Bobby said. "And we know full well that he can go anywhere he wants."
"Damnit Bobby."
His father shoved a cup of coffee at him and Dean took it, swallowing the need to run headlong out the door and into whatever was out there.
"We know he wants Crowley, and he took Castiel, probably as bait." John said, pacing the kitchen now.
Dean licked his lips and looked away. It wasn't bait. Dean knew that look, knew from the look on Castiel's face that he knew too. The demons had learned how to fuck their victims over from a master. Wherever they were, Lucifer was likely tormenting Cas in any number of ways, from simple torture to playing with his head to literally fucking him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how Castiel looked when they'd first found him, what that meant he had been through…and Dean had promised himself he would keep the angel safe…though at this point he doubted he should even be surprised that he couldn't keep yet another promise.
He exhaled and pushed the paralyzing self-doubt away, cradling the coffee cup to him and breathing deep of the smell. "Okay. We know that Sam beat him once, we have to assume Sam is fighting him now." He didn't want to think about the alternative, that Lucifer had torn down the memory wall and Sam was lost inside himself.
"What does that tell us?" John asked, his eyes narrowing.
In the hours since Lucifer had taken Castiel away, his father had started to be more like his old self. Dean could almost see him compartmentalizing, shoving the shit he couldn't deal with behind walls and boarding them up until he was left with the bare bones of who John Winchester had been and the incoming information he needed to function.
Dean sipped at the coffee. "Well, the last time…" He swallowed and pushed the memory back. "…it took him some time to get a grip on him, but he there were little moments when it seemed more like Sam than Lucifer. We can hope he breaks free enough to give us a clue."
"I don't like sitting around." John grumbled.
Dean snorted. "No, really, Dad?" He put his coffee down on the table that wasn't quite right since he'd thrown it and pulled both hands up over his face and through his short hair. "I need some air." He stood and headed for the door.
"You sure that's wise? Crowley-"
"Crowley took off the minute Lucifer showed up. Any of his cronies hanging around…" Dean pulled Ruby's knife from the sheath on his hip and twirled it. "…let 'em come at me."
He left his father and Bobby in the kitchen and headed out to where his car waited him. Some part of him wanted to just get in it and find Sam. Not that he knew where to look, but somehow something inside him believed that together they could find him.
The sun was setting, shadows stretching out around him. He sat on the hood of the Impala and tried to clear his head. He stretched and laid back, letting the warm metal under his body soak into him.
"You look tired, Dean."
His hand tightened on the hilt of the knife, but otherwise he didn't move. "Might be because I am." Dean answered.
"We've never actually met."
"I'm going to guess you're Michael." Dean turned his head, looking over the body Michael wore. The man was old, probably into his seventies, and even though Michael stood tall, Dean imagined on his own he was pretty stooped over. "Unless you're here to tell me how to find Sam and Castiel, I'm not interested."
"Your brother is as good as gone, Dean. His soul is ravaged, and Lucifer will have torn down any defenses he might have had to protect him. He won't be coming back."
Michael had moved close, his hand lifting to caress the side of Dean's face. "Castiel, on the other hand…we might still save him."
Dean closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear that…not any of it. "You have always underestimated us." Dean said, sitting up now, pulling away from the hand that reached for him. "You can go to hell."
Michael laughed, nodding. "I've been there. No intention of going back."
"No, you'll just slaughter half of heaven to get what you want." Dean slid off the car and turned to look at him. "I meant what you said, unless you're here to give me directions to my brother and Castiel, I'm not interested."
"I would have thought you'd be pleased that I killed Raphael. He didn't like you Winchesters very much."
A slow rage began to burn inside him and Dean took a step toward the archangel. “I don’t know if you noticed while you were up there killing your brothers, but things haven’t been going too damn well. You’ve got angels killing angels and angels working with demons and demons trying to break into purgatory, the dead are alive and the rest of us are dying, my brother has been stolen by Lucifer and I’m pretty certain that he’s torturing my friend, but you want me to be happy because you killed your brother?”
“Dean?”
He didn’t look away, even as his father came closer. He didn’t want Michael fluttering away now that he was good and angry.
Michael however turned his attention to the elder Winchester. “I see what you mean about the dead walking the earth. I was unaware you’d been resurrected, John.”
“Who the fuck are you?” John asked and Dean snorted.
“Dad, this is Michael.”
He could feel his father bristle. “You’re one of the assholes jerking my boys around.”
“I would watch your tone.” Michael drew himself up, sneering at the both of them.
Dean turned his back to Michael, grabbing his father’s arm to pull him away.
“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”
Dean stopped. “You going to tell me how to find Sam?”
“I could.”
He huffed and looked back. “Let me know when you decide you will. Until then, get lost.”
He started back toward the house, not looking back even as Michael’s wings fluttered him away.
Blood covers him, his flesh raw, his skin shredded…he shivers, pulled inside himself, eyes closed…the air is super-charged and hot, burning his lungs as he gasps and chokes…trembles and waits for the torment to begin anew…but something is different now…quiet settles…
Sam opened his eyes, half expecting to find his skin ripped open and bloods smeared over his flesh.
Instead he was in a soft bed, in a large hotel room, a warm body spooned up to him. He breathed in carefully, afraid to move. The warm body moved, whimpered. Castiel. Sam was suddenly aware of the nakedness, both his own and Castiel’s, and the fact that his cock was trapped between the ass cheeks of the angel.
Lucifer had used him to rape Castiel. Sam’s stomach lurched and he pulled away, sitting up and pulling the sheet with him to cover himself. Castiel groaned behind him, rolling onto his back. “Cas?” Sam said softly, not turning to look.
He felt the bed shift, Castiel moving. “Where are we?”
“Sam?” Castiel’s hand touched him and Sam stood. He nodded tightly.
“For the moment.” Lucifer seemed to be gone, but so was the wall of memory…images spilled freely through his brain and any minute it was going to be too much. “You need to call Dean. Tell him where you are. You need to run.”
“I don’t know…” Castiel was up now too, his nakedness seeming to be unnoticed. He came close, looking like he wanted to touch Sam…kiss him even.
“Did I…” Sam shook his head. It was a stupid question. It was obvious he had. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Castiel shook his head. “You did not. Even Lucifer was gentle.”
As if the sound of his name had awakened him, Sam could suddenly feel Lucifer inside him. “Cas, now. Call Dean. I can’t hold him for long.” Sam moved to the phone on the desk, dialing Dean’s number, thrusting the phone at Castiel and moving to find something to tell him where they were. He pulled a pad of hotel stationary out and dropped it on the desk before memory stabbed through him….blades cutting into him, shoving into his ass like a cock, ripping him open…
He could hear Cas talking as he doubled over, the memory stirring up as Lucifer’s presence rose within him. “Run, Cas!” Sam gasped out, shoving the angel toward the door. He was losing the fight to stay in control, vomiting as the pain crescendoed.
“No, stay, Cas.” Lucifer said, taking the phone out of Castiel’s hand and hanging it up. “I’m not done showing you how much I love you.”