Non Timebo Mala: Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Castiel slumped at the end of his bed and glared at the door. He’d been in that position for most of the night and his back was beginning to hurt but he ignored it. His mind was too preoccupied with all that had happened in the past twenty four hours. The rugs strewn about his room were a mess from where he’d been pacing, kicking them out of the way as he went just to let off some steam, and the floor was littered with the trinkets Azazel had left around the room. Castiel had dug through them all looking for something he could use either as a weapon to defend himself or as a tool to pry up the locking bar on the outside of the door but had come up empty handed thus far.
Everything he’d found was too small to be of much more than decorative use and, when coupled with the bar being set into the outside of the door, it spoke of Azazel’s extreme planning in picking out his room. The man had ensured that nothing within reach could be used as a weapon and that Castiel could be locked in should the need arise. To hold a citizen in this manner was highly illegal but he doubted he’d be able to get anyone to believe him much less punish someone as powerful as Azazel without a good amount of proof. No one was going to risk going against the senator on the word of a lower patrician either, even if he could get out of this room.
Castiel sighed and dropped his head to the tops of his knees which he’d folded and brought protectively to his chest. His mind turned for the thousandth time to Dean. He felt like he’d failed his lover. He’d been unable to just let events unfold so that the plan could go off without problems. If only he’d been able to just let Azazel have his way, then he would already be at Dean’s side, riding off toward Gabriel’s home with Anya. Instead he was locked in a room waiting to see what would happen to him now. He prayed Azazel hadn’t said anything to Michael as he had no doubts his brother would make good on his threat to sell Anya. Despite his worry for her though, it was Dean that had him most concerned.
Had his lover come for him? Had he waited in vain outside for Castiel to come out? How long had he sat there hoping for a sign before he’d finally given up and left? Or was Dean even now crouched just outside those walls waiting for Castiel? The last thought was both touching and heartbreaking. He couldn’t imagine what his love must be thinking and he prayed Dean didn’t think he’d changed his mind about their plan. Dean was reckless and a little foolhardy sometimes and Castiel honestly worried that his lover might try breaking in to rescue him. That would only end in disaster for them both. Though it broke his heart to even think it, it would be better if Dean were to just get away with Sam. They had their transfer papers at least and perhaps he could catch up with them at some point.
Castiel’s thoughts were interrupted by a light knock at his door. His head snapped up and he was on his feet the instant he heard the board on the other side being slid open. He took a few steps toward it but halted when the door opened and Azazel slid inside. Behind him Castiel could make out two armed guards who quickly pulled the door shut behind the senator and his heart sank as his tiny chance of freedom slipped away leaving him with only his captor for company. He glared at Azazel and took care to keep as much distance as possible between them. “Castiel,” the other man said in a chipper mood that set his nerves on edge, “Oh, my pet, you look awful. Didn’t get any sleep, huh? Such a shame. Don’t you like your room?” He gestured around as if showing it off and then raised an eyebrow as his foot collided with a small overturned cup. He kicked it to one side and took in all the rest of the items scattered about the floor. “You’ve been an industrious little thing, haven’t you?”
Castiel remained silent and looked over the senator for any sign of a weapon he might be able to wrestle away and use against him. Azazel was unfortunately unarmed, at least, there were no weapons Castiel could see, but he was clutching a rolled up piece of parchment in one hand that bore his official seal on it. Curiosity awoke in Castiel’s tired mind but he refrained from saying anything. It turned out that he didn’t have to. Azazel had caught the direction of his eyes and he held up the paper like a treat for a dog, waving it slowly back and forth as if it were some temptation Castiel might find irresistible. “I had the most interesting encounter last night,” he drawled, stalking around to Castiel’s side and forcing the other man to move just to keep the distance between them, “You’ll never guess who I ran into.”
Castiel stopped and narrowed his eyes. He hated this game Azazel was playing. “Your conscience?”
Azazel laughed. “Oh gods no, I don’t have one of those.” He chuckled as if tickled at his own joke but Castiel didn’t think it far from the truth. “No, I had stopped in at your brother’s house,” he paused to take in the look of pained realization that flashed across Castiel’s face, “when who should I stumble across but the one and only Dean Winchester.” A hole opened up in the bottom of Castiel’s stomach and he wished in that moment that he could crawl into it to escape. Not only did Michael now know that he’d refused Azazel’s advances yet again, which would put Anya at risk, but he doubtless knew about his indiscretions with Dean. Worse still, Dean had been caught trying to free the slave from his brother as well. There had been no mention of Sam thus far and Castiel hoped the younger Winchester had made it away unscathed. Castiel looked up from where he’d been staring at his boots, his mind whirling a mile a minute as everything unraveled before his eyes, and his stomach flopped over on itself as he took in the eager smile on Azazel’s face. The senator was taking obvious joy from his suffering over this news.
“I feel just awful having placed you in his care for so long now that I know how untrustworthy a character he truly is. He’s been arrested you see,” Azazel continued, drinking in each pained flinch of Castiel’s face, “and this afternoon he will sadly meet his end in the games.”
Castiel started and stared with disbelief at Azazel. It was a lie. It had to be. Even someone stealing a slave wouldn’t be put to such an end. There were other punishments far more fitting than death in the arena for such a crime and it made no sense that Dean would be executed so quickly or so brutally. “The games?” he asked in utter confusion, “Dean has done nothing to warrant that. You lie.”
Azazel clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. “Oh Castiel, I’m so sorry. I forgot you weren’t there. You don’t know about the tragic murder of Flavian.” Castiel stared at him with wide eyes as the news sank in. “Oh yes, it was awful. There was nothing we could do. Dean slew him before anyone could stop it and as you know, the murder of a senator in such a brutal manner is certainly cause for Dean’s death in the arena. The people demand swift justice,” he said with no little glee.
Castiel felt his knees go a little weak. “No,” he whispered in denial. His love, whom he’d only just discovered, was about to die, torn limb from limb by wild beasts for the amusement of Rome’s citizenry. He couldn’t believe it. How could the gods be that cruel? Why introduce him to what happiness could be if they were just going to steal it away again? “Please,” he begged quietly, “Azazel, you can stop this. Please.”
Azazel nodded. “I do have the power to pardon him. It was dark after all and perhaps we’d made a mistake. I could be,” he licked his lips obscenely, “persuaded.” Castiel shuddered and looked away but Azazel stepped back into his view and brandished the paper in front of him. “A pardon. All written up and ready for delivery, Castiel, and all you have to do to save him is give me what I want.” He leaned in and breathed hot against the side of Castiel’s neck. “Give me you, don’t deny me, and you can live here happily knowing your precious Dean is safe and sound, going about his idiotic little way and living his pathetic little life. Don’t make this hard on yourself. You’re mine either way. Consider this a gift for good behavior.”
Castiel felt something in him give like a dam. He was tired of being used. Tired of being treated like an object and now this monster had placed the most important person in the world to him in danger and expected him to just obey. It was Michael and Anya all over again and Castiel was sick of it. He had killed men in battle, had ridden by Dean’s side as an equal, had known what love was and what happiness and freedom had tasted like for a brief time and as he pulled back to look at Azazel’s smug face, he felt a rage boil up inside.
This creep was no different than the bandits that had tried to kill them on the road and once again Dean’s life was in danger. Castiel was not about to let Dean die, he would not lose him, and if Azazel wanted a fighter, he was about to get a lot more than he bargained for. No one was going to threaten Dean. Castiel wrapped his hands into the front of Azazel’s robes and slammed him backward as hard as he could, reveling in the sudden flash of fear that rushed across the senator’s face when his back connected with a wall. “You will not harm him,” he growled low and deadly, “and you will never put your hands on me again.” The words were punctuated with a sharp punch to the gut followed by another to the side of Azazel’s face.
The senator stumbled and then launched himself at Castiel with surprising speed and strength but he was no match for Castiel’s training. A quick shift and hip toss sent him clean across the room where he slammed into the wall with a thud. Castiel was on him in an instant, sending another punch directly into his nose and another into his ribs before finally dragging the senator over to the base of a thick chest of drawers. He yanked down one of the curtains around the bed and tore off a few long strips which he then used to bind Azazel’s hands behind him.
“I cannot kill you,” he stated in a flat tone that suggested he’d highly like to, “as that would make me a criminal, but you will live the rest of your life knowing you failed to own me.” He jerked the knots on the senator’s wrists tight enough to hurt and then snagged up the rolled parchment from where it had fallen during the struggle. He glanced over it to ensure it was exactly what Azazel had claimed and then turned to face his tormentor one last time. “Your own arrogance defeats you. This paper frees Dean and once I give it over, he and I will be out of your reach for good. You cannot revoke the pardon and you cannot keep me here against my will. Never come near my family again.” He turned on his heel and prepared himself for the fight he knew would come when he tried to get past the guards outside. Azazel’s voice behind him halted him at the door.
“Oh you think you have it all figured out, don’t you?” he spat a wad of blood onto the floor at his side. “But aren’t you forgetting something. Someone? Your precious slave? She’s dead, Castiel. You walk out that door and I will see to it myself that she never sees another day. I will string her entrails out as decorations for my next dinner party.”
Castiel narrowed his eyes at the senator but he had no answer for that. He was still concerned over the woman but he could not forsake Dean to die in the games and he doubted Azazel would stay true to his word to pardon him now that he’d been so roughly treated. He would just have to work quickly to free Dean and then run the risk of trying to collect Anya once his lover was safe. He would have to fight with Michael no doubt but perhaps his brother could be swayed once he knew Castiel was no longer a useful pawn in his game.
He took a steadying breath and pushed open the door to his room, fully expecting a fight, but was shocked to stumble out into the cool hallway and find himself utterly alone. What had happened to the guards? He didn’t question the gift and instead silently closed the door behind him, sealing off Azazel’s angry shouts. He rushed down the hall toward the front door but pulled up short, skidding on the polished tiles, when he spotted the lithe figure of Lady Megara leaning against the door. She smiled at him and brushed at one of the folds on her luxurious gown. “You won’t get far if you go out this way,” she purred at him, “Follow me.”
Without another word, Megara glided through the room toward the back of the house. Castiel stood stiffly in place and she stopped when she realized he wasn’t following. She rolled her eyes and sauntered over to him. “You don’t have much time, you idiot. I told the guards I’d heard something out front. You have only a few minutes before they come back in so I suggest you use them. That is, unless you want to be caught and dragged back into that room again?” She gave him an oily smile that made Castiel want to punch her. He was about to tell her he wasn’t fool enough to fall for such tricks when he heard the sound of several booted feet coming back up the front steps.
He turned to find Megara had returned to the door in the back of the room, beckoning to him and despite the feeling in his gut telling him not to trust her, he followed as quickly as he could. Megara moved with surprising speed, her robes fluttering about her as she ran, and Castiel hurried to keep up. They wound through the house and slipped into a small garden at the back where sunlight was pouring through the open door. Beyond it Castiel could see a large wall that hemmed them in but Megara burst out into the garden and turned sharply to her left out of sight. Castiel followed on her heels and she led him to a small door hidden behind a set of thick flowering bushes imported from some faraway place.
She pried open the door and glanced about before gesturing for him to go. Castiel paused on the threshold and stared at her. “Why are you helping me?” he asked with obvious mistrust.
Megara sighed in irritation. “Let’s just say my husband’s little conquests are an embarrassment. Do you know what it’s like to have to explain such things to the wives of other senators? I’m tired of it. I’m tired of their whispers and their little pitying remarks as if I couldn’t keep a man in my bed all on my own. So I’m helping you to knock Azazel down a few pegs. Maybe he’ll be a little more discreet about his toys in the future.” She gestured toward the door in a way that made it clear she wasn’t interested in talking anymore and Castiel didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted out into the alley and rushed along the side of the house until he reached the busy street where he quickly disappeared into the crowd. It didn’t take much effort to get caught up in the flow as the city poured toward the large building in the center where the shout of the crowd lured more spectators in. It was exactly where Castiel needed to go. There he would find Dean. If only he could make it in time.
Megara watched him go until she lost him in the crowd. She slid the door shut with a cunning smile and walked back into the house. By the time she reached Castiel’s room, Azazel had been freed by his men and he turned to her like an angry serpent as she approached. “How convenient that you should hear something outside when I might need my guards most. They seem to be under the impression that you were going to help me while they took care of, what was it again? Ah yes, the ‘legionaries that were storming the building over Dean Winchester’s arrest’?”
Megara shrugged. “I saw some angry looking soldiers, I thought they were headed here. I guess they passed us by,” she said nonchalantly, “by the time I came back here to help you, that brute Castiel had already come out. What was I to do?” She smiled and blinked innocently at him.
Azazel stepped up to her and brushed a hand into her hair. “Of course, my dear. You were helpless before him.” His fingers curled into a painful fist and yanked back hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Strange that it took you so long after he left to help me. Where were you?”
“He took me prisoner,” she lied, a little fear showing in her eyes, “to ward off any guards along the way.”
“And I suppose he somehow knew just the path to take to avoid those guards, didn’t he? Where is he?”
“Gone. He fled through the back gate. I couldn’t stop…”
“Shh…ssh. I know, my sweet. I know.” Azazel thumbed over her cheek. “I do so love our little games. The slave was a nice touch. I trust you to pick out one to send to the general as a gift…you pick the Gaul. Did you pay him to open the gates or did you just hope his desire for freedom would win out?”
Megara smiled at him through the pain. “Oh he wasn’t too hard to convince. By the time he left, he was sure I was all but setting him free. I’d practically had him eating out of my hands. Little fool drank up any sign of sympathy like a sponge.”
Azazel smiled almost proudly at her. “Clever. Had our forces been a little less trained, I would have fled one battle just to run right into a fort controlled by the Gauls. Right into your little trap. How did you coordinate the attack?”
Megara let out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t just send one slave,” she said proudly, “the other Gaul? The one I told you died of fever just before you left? I gave him your schedule, told him I’d free the other one soon, and sent him on his way. He ran right back to his people and the rest was just sitting back to wait.”
The senator chuckled as if they’d shared a good joke. “Oh my beautiful, clever, Meg. I bet you were so disappointed when I didn’t die the way you’d hoped.”
She grinned at him. “No, no I was proud of you. I thought maybe we could go to the games, watch the slave die together.”
Azazel nodded and brushed his free hand over her throat. “I would have liked that. But you see, my sweet, you took our little game too far. You cost me my enjoyment of the Novak boy.” He clamped down on her windpipe. “You let him out. No, no. Don’t deny it. I know you did. You let him out just to irritate me.” He leaned in until his lips were brushing against her cheek and his voice was a low dangerous hiss. “It worked.” Megara made a strangled noise as her air began to cut off. Her nails dug into Azazel’s arm, raking thin bloody lines down it but he didn’t seem to notice. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked, how much of Michael Novak’s irritating and pointless drivel I had to put up with just to get my hands on that boy? I would kill you but it would mean you got the last word in.”
“He was beneath your station,” she gasped, “You were going to risk everything we have trying to hold him here. If anyone found out…”
Azazel’s grip tightened, “Ah, well, that makes sense. You cost me my plaything, let me be humiliated, so that you wouldn’t risk losing your precious possessions? Your station in life should we be discovered? Good enough when it was just plebian boys at my whim but I over stepped my bounds to own another patrician?” Megara nodded as she struggled for air. “Well, since you cost me what I’ve been looking forward to for weeks, I think I’m just going to take everything else from you. Everything you worked for, everything you wanted, everything you have. You are banished from this house, your worldly possessions are mine and if I ever see you again, I will slaughter you in the street.” He released her onto the floor in a heap and pulled a dagger off the belt of one of the guards. She tried to struggle to her feet but he dropped his weight onto her and pressed her to the floor, pinning her hands beneath his knees. “And just to make sure you don’t run right into the arms of another lover, let’s just make you a little less pretty.”
As the first few locks of golden hair rained to the floor before her eyes, Megara began screaming bloody murder. She struggled as hard as she could but Azazel could not be dislodged and he sliced away at her pride until her hair was almost as short as Castiel’s had been. He ignored her screams, her threats and her pleas as the guards dragged her out of the house and threw her into the dirt of the street.
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