Non Timebo Mala: Chapter 22

[rivercritter]

Chapter 22

Author's Note: This chapter contains some non-con scenes. They aren't very long nor are they in depth but I want to ensure that everyone is well warned. It's more sexual assault than rape but people have squicks for good reason and I don't want to ruin anyone's day. Please be aware of that before reading.

***

It had been the longest ride of his life as Castiel was carted back to Azazel’s house. Michael didn’t bother to speak to him since the gag pulled cruelly across his mouth would have prevented him from answering anyway but Castiel contented himself with glaring unflinchingly at his brother for the duration of the trip. Michael only met his eyes twice, during which the man had the good decency to at least look a little unhappy about having his youngest sibling trussed up like a lamb for slaughter. Castiel felt his stomach clench as they finally pulled to a stop and he stared at the curtain in dread as it was ripped back to let Michael out. Rough hands jerked him out once his brother had departed and he was draped unceremoniously over the shoulder of one of the guards. He tried to struggle as he was carted inside but his bindings refused to give and he eventually forced himself to relax and bide his time.

He knew the Winchesters would be coming to get him the minute they got back and he took some comfort from the fact that Michael had been too busy with him to have stopped Dean and Sam from their rescue attempt on Anya. Now he would just have to wait until they could come and get him as well. Castiel had no doubts now that Dean would do precisely that and he tried to hold on to that idea as cold comfort in light of his situation. He barely noticed the rooms he was carried through though he did look up as they passed by the veiled garden where he’d first been introduced to Azazel’s sick desire for him. The garden slipped from view and eventually he found himself back in the room that started it all, the place where Michael and Azazel had come their mutual agreement about Castiel’s future. How fitting, he thought bitterly, that this should be the place it would end. He was carted across the space before being dropped onto his butt on the hard tile floor and he grunted unhappily at the pain that lanced along his hip.

His captors dragged him back against one of the pillars that decorated the room and a knife cleanly sliced the ropes around his wrists. He swung out and neatly decked the closest guard but the others quickly secured his hands again, jerking them up over his head and binding his wrists on the other side of the pole. The position was awkward and it gave him little room to move his arms. As the guards moved away and took up their positions around the edge of the room, one of whom glared as he clutched his bleeding nose, Castiel finally caught sight of the one person in the world he’d hoped never to see again. Azazel smiled at him in a way that made his spine tingle unpleasantly. Michael had taken a seat on the nearest couch and his head was dropped into his hands in open misery. “Where did I go wrong?” he was mumbling to himself and Azazel sauntered over to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Oh come on, it’s not your fault. You did all you could. You were a good brother, a good model, a good mentor. You can’t help it if your brothers and sisters don’t share your vision.” Azazel patted Michael’s back awkwardly as if the act of comforting someone was utterly foreign to him.

“I have had to kidnap my own brother because he refuses to see the entitlements I have made available to him,” Michael said angrily, and he shot a fleeting snarl in Castiel’s direction.

“But it’s not really Castiel’s fault either, is it?” Azazel crooned like some hypnotic serpent, “He was everything you could have hoped for before all this started. Loyal. Obedient. Generous. No, it’s Dean Winchester you should blame for this. Castiel couldn’t help it. He fell for Winchester’s seductions. He was naive, unprepared to deal with the debauched advances of a seasoned warrior.” The senator slid off the couch and leaned down to whisper his promises near Michael’s ear. “But I can fix him. Don’t worry. I can undo all this damage. You’d like that, right? Your devoted brother back to what he should be…” He sat up as Michael raised his head to stare at him and the senator smiled happily now that he had the eldest Novak’s full attention. “I have an estate out in the country, near the coast. We can’t keep him here, someone’s going to come looking and if they take him now, we’ll never undo the spell this Winchester has put on him. Let me take him out of the city. A few months in my care at my summer home and he’ll be good as new.”

Castiel watched in horror as Michael nodded his ascent. “You’re right. Castiel was always my most loyal. I should have done more to protect him from outside influence. Do what you need to. I would be most grateful to have those fantasies about this lowly soldier out of his head.”

Azazel practically beamed and a nod from him sent Tennen rushing back out of the room to make preparations. “We’ll have to leave as soon as possible. I don’t know who saw you take your brother but I don’t think the city guard will understand what we’re trying to do. Tennen will pack my things and we’ll leave within the next few hours.”

Castiel felt like he’d been punched in the gut. If Azazel took him out of the city, Dean might never find him and his hopes of rescue would be crushed. He struggled and pulled harder at his bonds, his fingers stretching to find some knot he could undo, but nothing loosened despite his attempts. He closed his eyes and drew his knees up, his thoughts winging to his lover as he prayed that Dean and Sam wouldn’t be too late. He was mercifully left alone as Michael and Azazel sat down to enjoy a quiet meal before they were set to travel, and he took the time he was given to carefully retest every part of his ropes for weakness. To his continuing dismay he found none and when Tennen came back to say the preparations were almost done, Castiel had to bite back a scream of frustration.

Azazel gifted him with an oily smile. “You’ll need to come back here for your election,” he said to Michael, “and I’ll need someone to take care of my affairs. Who better than the new Quaestor?” He looked up to find that his offer was happily welcomed by the oldest Novak. His position in the senate would be utterly assured if he were to do something as important as act in Azazel’s stead during his absence. “Tennen can go over a few of the more important details while we’re waiting to leave.” He gestured over the slave who bowed submissively. “Show him to my office and acquaint him with my personal finance stores and ledgers. He’ll need those to do his duties.”

Michael puffed up his chest proudly, his concern and guilt over Castiel conveniently forgotten under the all too powerful temptation of Azazel’s offer, and he stood quickly to claim his new rights. “Thank you,” he said, clutching the senator’s arm, “you have been a great patron of my family. Your generosity will not be forgotten.”

“The same could be said of you,” Azazel purred, his gaze flicking to where Castiel sat helpless. Michael turned and strode out of the room behind Tennen, ignorant of the pleading look his younger brother was throwing at his receding back. Castiel did not want to be left alone with Azazel. The man never had a pleasant reason for wanting them away from prying eyes and he doubted that had changed any. He hid his worry as best as he could and glared at the senator as he slithered across the room, hopeful that his heart wasn’t beating hard enough to be seen though his tunic. Azazel sank down next to him and Castiel withdrew subconsciously as far away as his bindings would let him. The back of a too-warm hand slid down the side of his face and he jerked away from the contact, throwing an openly defiant stare at his tormentor. “Tennen will keep your brother busy for quite a while so no one will interrupt us this time.”

The gag was tugged from his mouth and Castiel worked his jaw to ease the soreness there. “You will not succeed in this,” he growled stubbornly, “Dean is coming for me.”

Azazel chuckled patronizingly. “’Dean is coming for me.’ By the gods, that’s so romantic I could vomit. You really believe that, don’t you?” he said mockingly, “Well, here’s the reality, kid. Winchester doesn’t care about you. You were a sweet piece of ass and he got what he wanted already. You aren’t worth the effort for him anymore.”

The words were meant to hurt, to break his confidence for Azazel’s amusement, but Castiel merely smiled knowingly. “Then why are you in such a rush to leave? Why the rush to claim your ‘prize’?” he asked rhetorically, “You know Dean is on his way. You lost. No matter where you go, the Winchesters will find you. Release me and you may yet walk away from this alive.”

Azazel snarled at him. “I don’t think so. You’d better hope Winchester stays far away from here because if I can’t have you, I’ll make sure he doesn’t either. You’re mine. You’ve been too much trouble for me to just give up now. Oh no, Castiel, I’m going to get my investment back from you.” The space between them disappeared as Azazel pressed their lips together and Castiel let out a muffled noise of protest. He wasn’t about to let this happen without a fight though and he caught Azazel’s lip between his teeth, biting hard enough to taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. Azazel yelped and pulled back clutching his mouth. His eyes turned dangerously angry and he punched Castiel with a surprising amount of force.

The senator did not pause in his assault and he fisted a section of Castiel’s tunic, pulling and ripping the fabric at the seam. Castiel let out a startled cry as his clothing was torn and Azazel hurriedly shoved the gag back in place lest Michael hear. The senator grabbed the other shoulder of Castiel’s tunic and made to tear it free as well when the sound of boots skidding into the room caught his attention. Azazel turned to look and Castiel peered over his shoulder. The sight flooded him with relief as he took in Dean’s proud form filling the doorway. His lover stood frozen in the opening, his eyes flicking from Castiel’s ripped clothing to Azazel’s hand still guiltily clutching the remaining fabric. The blank shock on Dean’s face morphed into a terrifying rage as comprehension of what he was seeing finally set in. “Oh hells no,” Dean growled so lowly that it could have been mistaken for thunder. “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Him.”

Dean lunged forward, intent it seemed on ripping Azazel’s throat out, but he was blocked swiftly by the remaining guards in the room who rushed to their master’s aid. Sam and Gabriel appeared behind him a moment later but Dean was already cutting an angry swath through the men between him and his lover. A shout from Azazel brought more guards running and Sam moved quickly to close the doors, sealing them out of the room. Gabriel ducked around most of the men fighting Dean, using his smaller stature and incredible agility to zip through the press of bodies like it wasn’t there. Sam had to grudgingly admit some respect for anyone who could move like that and he found himself pausing to watch for a few seconds before he rushed in to help his brother. Gabriel easily ducked a swing coming at him and slid through the guard’s legs, popping up on the opposite side and deftly stabbing the man in the rear without a backward glance. With the Winchesters on one side and Gabriel on the other, the guards quickly thinned until Dean was finally able to slip through and make a rush for Azazel.

He was so blinded by his anger that he didn’t see one of the guards stepping out from his hiding spot behind a pillar and Sam’s shout of warning came too late as a sword slashed a deep line along Dean’s already injured ribs. He cried out and stumbled to the side before a heavy boot collided with his shoulder, jarring it so harshly that his fingers went numb. His sword clattered to the ground and he kicked out blindly behind him, taking comfort in the cold wet snap of a kneecap giving way when he connected. The guard’s leg twisted unnaturally and he fell into a screaming heap. Dean started to struggle back to his feet and his fingertips had just brushed the grip of his weapon when suddenly he found a sword tip jutting under his chin. His head was tipped back and he stared angrily up into the face of Azazel. The senator smiled victoriously and pressed the blade harder. “You’ve been a pain in my ass from day one, Dean, I’ll give ya that, but it’s all over now. Castiel is mine. If it makes you feel better, I promise I’ll get him to scream your name for me later.”

Dean made to lunge at him but was stopped by the blade pressing against his throat hard enough to draw blood. “Good bye, Dean,” Azazel said pleasantly. The sword pressed a fraction harder and Dean closed his eyes as he waited for the inevitable. He flinched at the sound of metal piercing flesh but when his throat remained intact, he risked a peek up at Azazel again. The senator’s body jerked violently and his eyes grew wide as he stared down at his intended victim.

“You will never threaten him again,” came a deep gravelly reply over Azazel’s shoulder. Another thrust shoved the end of a sword all the way through until the blood stained tip burst out the front, staining the white senatorial robes with a spreading circle of crimson. Azazel turned as far as he could and found himself staring into a set of fierce blue eyes. Beyond Castiel, he could see Gabriel waving happily, the dagger he’d used to cut his brother’s bonds still shining in his hand. It was the last thing Azazel saw as he slid lifelessly to the floor. Castiel released the sword under the weight of the body it was still impaled through and rushed to Dean’s side. He dropped down next to him, frantically checking the wound and looking for something to stop the bleeding.

Dean grabbed his shoulders and pulled Castiel to a halt, dragging him close to look at him. “Cas? Cas, you ok? You hurt?” He pawed at the thick dark curls at the base of his lover’s skull and thumbed across the cheekbones he’d come to love.

Castiel shook his head. “No, I’m fine. You are the one that’s bleeding, Dean. Let me…”

“Gods…Was so damned worried about you,” Dean cut him off emphatically, and he ignored his lover’s protests as he tugged Castiel down into a tight hug. “Can we not do this shit anymore?” he asked pathetically, his face buried in the crook of the other man’s neck, “I’m gettin’ tired of getting the crap beat out of me every time I have to save your butt.”

Castiel chuckled against his shoulder. “If I recall, I have had to save your butt as often as you have had to save mine. In fact, I believe you may owe me one.”

“Anya counts,” Dean muttered against his lover’s neck, drawing another chuckle out of Castiel.

“Agreed.” Castiel pulled back finally, reluctant to let go, and he set to work trying to bind Dean’s wound with strips from his already ruined tunic.

The clang of swords still echoed through the room, accompanied now by the frantic pounding of fists against the outermost door as reinforcements struggled to gain entry but Dean was too tired at that point to care. Most of the remaining soldiers that had greeted them upon their arrival had been effectively cowed beneath the blades of Sam and Gabriel anyway. Dean looked up to see the pair working back to back in perfect unison, Gabriel using Sam’s height as an advantage as he darted out and around the other man for a few quick, devastating strikes before disappearing again behind the larger man’s body. They swiftly killed the last of their enemies and stood leaning against one another, both panting but looking content that the fighting had stopped for the moment. Their relief was short lived however as the sound of footsteps approached a door Sam had missed the first time around. Sam bolted forward, reaching to close the last entry into the room, and had almost slammed it shut when Michael suddenly appeared in it. He glanced around, his brow furrowing heavily as he took in the carnage that had been waged in his absence.

Michael’s eyes finally rested on where Castiel sat crouched next to Dean, Azazel’s limp form not far off, and Dean instinctively wrapped an arm around his lover. He shot a look of pure challenge at the other man and Castiel placed a reassuring hand on the back of Dean’s neck. He stared down his brother as he watched horror and anger flit over the man’s face.

“Castiel…what have you done?”

“What has he done?” Gabriel chimed in, “How about we discuss what YOU just did. You know, I always thought you were a pushy, arrogant ass but even I never thought you’d stoop to something as low as kidnapping your own flesh and blood. As for what Castiel’s done? Uh, I do believe he just grew a set, told you and your plans to get fucked, and then killed the bastard that assaulted him. That about right, Dean? I mean, you’re the only one who knows what Castiel’s set looks like.”

Sam groaned and shot a chastising look over at Gabriel who seemed utterly unfazed while Dean just stared at him incredulously. Castiel sighed in disapproval. “I am not going to dignify that with an answer,” Dean said flatly.

“I believe my brother is trying to say that this is over. I am no longer under your control, Michael. Now leave,” Castiel deadpanned. He stared hard at his brother, ensuring he had the other man’s full attention, before turning and claiming a searing kiss from Dean’s lips.

Dean let out a small surprised noise that quickly turned into a moan of appreciation as he pressed up into the kiss. “I think I like it when you’re pushy,” he said with a bashful smirk as they parted.

Michael glowered at them for a moment before screaming over his shoulder. “THEY’RE IN HERE.” The sound of the men at the door faltered and boots began to ring out down the hallway that would lead them to the other door. Sam jerked Michael inside and slammed the entry shut, pressing his back to it in a bid to keep it closed against the onslaught of men heading that way.

Michael stumbled a few steps and quickly refocused his attention on Castiel. His face twisted into a mask of rage and he swelled up to his full height. “You ungrateful little child. I gave you everything. I kept our household intact, put food on our table, ensured our place in this city after our father abandoned us and THIS is how your repay me?” Michael’s voice bellowed out into the empty space and Dean felt Castiel tense next to him. “All of you are the SAME. Every one of you! Ignorant children! While you were still being nursed by that pathetic slave you care so much for, I was trying to make sure our family would still be in good enough standing to carry out the plans our father had laid for us. Now look what you’ve done!”

Dean was on his feet in an instant and he was grateful when he found Castiel at his elbow a moment later because the blood loss and fatigue had him swaying dangerously. He steadied himself and did his best to stare down Michael. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that, you pompous, self righteous bastard. My father left Sam and I too but that doesn’t excuse what you did. I would never sell my own brother for personal gain. Never. You don’t even deserve to be in the same room with him,” Dean spit.

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel murmured as he stepped between his lover and his brother, “It’s over now.”

“No!” Michael shouted angrily, “This is not over! You are NOT leaving me, Castiel! Every other member of this family has abandoned me. I am not losing you too.” He marched threateningly across the room toward Castiel. “One way or another I am going to make you see. I am going to make ONE of you see!” As he reached out to grab Castiel’s arm, Dean moved like a flash, slipping in between them and laying the other man out with a solid punch.

Michael hit the floor and as he tried to get back to his feet, the tip of Gabriel’s sword tapped him on the shoulder. “Not what I would call a good idea,” Gabriel quipped, “so here’s how things are going to work now. You’re going to turn over all rights of the family to me. You’re going to pack your things and leave town tonight. I don’t care where you go but you’re never coming back here again. Fuck with me, Michael, set even one foot out of line, and I’ll inform the city guard that you were an accomplice to the murder of Appius.”

“That’s a lie,” Michael said, his voice dripping with indignity, “You’ll never convince them of that.”

“Uh, Orator,” Gabriel said as if his brother were a complete moron, “all I have to do is convince the rest of my fellow mouthy Romans that it’s true and word’ll spread like wildfire. Even if they never convict you, your precious reputation won’t be worth the price of a Grecian whore. And if they DO convict you…well, you’ll be coming out of the wrong end of a tiger.”

Michael seemed to think it over for a few minutes, glancing between his brothers before his shoulders finally slumped and his anger deflated. “So I am to be banished then?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Sounds about fitting, unless you prefer death of course.” He pressed the blade in his hand against his brother’s throat and smiled coldly. “Go ahead…tempt me.”

The two stared at each other for a few minutes until Michael finally bowed his head in defeat. “All I ever did, I did for our family.”

“Yeah, I’m touched. Remind me never to ask to ask you for a favor if kidnapping is how you show you care.”

“Uh, this is fascinating guys but we still have a problem,” Sam interrupted as the door behind him shuddered under the weight of the men trying to get in.

“Crap,” Dean muttered, “How the hells are we going to get out?”

Almost on cue, the sound outside in the corridor seemed to increase ten fold and the pressure against the door stopped. It sounded like a full out war going on in the hallway and everyone inside froze as they listened for sign of who would be the victor. After a few minutes, the noise died down and there was a strangely polite rap at the main door. Sam looked over at Dean who just shrugged. The younger Winchester hefted his sword at the ready and moved the bar that had sealed the intruders out. He tugged open the door, fully prepared to fight, but his body relaxed into confusion at the sight that greeted them. A young, slightly pudgy soldier in full armor stood in the entry and glanced around inside.

“Centurion Samael Winchester?” the soldier asked.

Sam stood up straight and let his sword drop to his side. “Um…yes. Who are you?”

The soldier pushed the door open the rest of the way and Dean could see that a whole garrison of armed men was marching through the house picking off any remaining enemies. “Hello Sir! My name is Resnick. Ronlus Resnick. I’m really happy to meet you. I’m from the 32nd Legion. The one you’ve been assigned to? We’ve heard a lot of great things about you.” Resnick seemed overly excited to meet Sam and he offered an enthusiastic salute.

Sam raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Dean who was even then biting his lip so as not to laugh. “Uh…thank you,” Sam said, returning the salute, “but what are you doing here? How did you even know I was going to be here?”

“Is that your brother Deanarious?” Resnick peered over at Dean and grinned as if he’d just been introduced to a famous gladiator, utterly ignoring Sam’s question. He looked as if he were about to venture over for a formal introduction when a hand clapped onto his shoulder and instead veered him around and back out into the hallway.

The frazzled looking soldier that took his place patted him on the back as he shoved him  out of the room. “Thank you, Resnick. I’m sure they’re glad to see us. Go find…somewhere else to be.” He turned back to Sam and stared into the broad chest in front of him before slowly craning his head up until he reached Sam’s face. “Hi,” he said lamely, “I’m Cicurinus. Yeah, I know, hard to pronounce. It’s ok. People just call me Chuck for short...” he paused in his ramble and stared off into space as if dredging up some horrible memory, “I think it’s because I’m small…you know, easy to throw? Chuck? Get it? Yeah. It was only funny after the fifth time they did it.” Sam blinked at him with a raised brow as Chuck rambled on like a small dog with a nervous tick. “Anyway, your girlfriend told us you were here. We thought we’d come help out our newest member.”

Sam frowned in confusion. “Girlfriend?”

“You didn’t tell me about any girlfriend,” Gabriel piped up accusingly.

Sam shot him a look that said clearly to shut up. “That’s because I don’t have one.”

“Uh…redhead. Very pretty. Kinda bossy?” Chuck added.

“Oh, that’s Anna,” Sam pointed out, “that’s his sister.” He thumbed at Gabriel who waved.

“Let’s go back to the part where you aren’t currently attached,” Gabriel said with open glee but Sam promptly ignored him.

“Look, I don’t care who sent you or why you’re here, I’m just happy to see you. Now can we go?” Dean said in exasperation, “I’m tired, I stink, I’m bleeding, and I still have sand in the crack of my ass from the arena. All I want is a bath, some food, and some rest.” He paused and glanced over at Castiel. “Ok, maybe not ALL I want…” Dean grinned at Cas who returned the smile full force.

“Yours,” Castiel whispered softly and to Dean that simple word said more than any others his lover could have picked. The memory of their first night flooded back to him and Dean’s lips curled into a small affectionate smile. “For the rest of my life. I love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel’s lips. “I know.”

Chapter 21    Master Post    Epilogue