[Fic] Sin with a Grin - Chapter 17/18+Epilogue
Title: Sin with a Grin
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all associated characters belong to Kripke and Co. I make absolutely no claims on any of them.
Special Thanks to dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
Please see Master Post for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information
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Ellen quirked a brow, taking in the room. “I don’t quite get what you’re seeing here, Castiel, I’m sorry. This just looks like the apartment of any thirty-something guy living on his own if you ask me.”
After stepping into the apartment, Castiel immediately called Sam who called Ellen. She usually didn’t get directly involved in their cases but Sam figured that they would need some clout behind them to get this moving as quickly as possible. Castiel really couldn’t blame her observation, and wouldn’t have, had he not known Dean so well.
Castiel’s first clue had been the water bottle sitting innocuously on the coffee table. When Castiel got further in the room he saw papers scattered along the dining table, dumped free from Dean’s satchel. There were also a few discarded food wrappers strewn across the floor by the couch.
Castiel moved slowly around the room and when he saw the coffee maker sitting pulled clear of the wall with dredges of a pot still listless in the bottom, it was pretty easy to figure out. Just to be extra cautious however, Castiel moved into the bedroom and saw the bed turned down as if someone had either left it in a hurry or was just preparing to crawl in.
“Ellen… There’s one thing we left out about Dean,” Sam began hesitantly.
“Oh?” Ellen asked, turning away from her survey of the apartment to face the two agents.
“Yeah, we don’t really… talk about it and he’s never officially been diagnosed, but ever since Dean was four he’s had…” Sam trailed off.
“Minor obsessive compulsive tendencies,” Castiel supplied. “Nothing incredibly debilitating, just a strong desire for things to be neat and tidy… Things to be in their places and ordered. The more stressed he gets, the more aggressive he becomes with it and I imagine he’s rather more stressed lately than usual… Considering…” Castiel didn’t finish, just stared resolutely at a spot on the floor.
“Yeah, he has been… So to walk in and see this,” Sam’s gesture was all encompassing. “Basically to Cas and I, knowing Dean and how he is, this place is trashed. Not only were they looking for something but they left in a hurry with Dean in tow,” Sam said firmly.
“But thankfully, they also left something behind,” Castiel nodded to the bottle on the coffee table.
“What, your boy doesn’t drink water?” Ellen was still sceptical.
“Not out of a bottle, he wouldn’t,” Castiel shook his head. He led Ellen and Sam into the kitchenette and opened the small refrigerator after carefully slipping a black latex glove around the handle, so as not to contaminate it with his own fingerprints, and gestured to the complete lack of disposable water bottles.
Castiel indicated the self-filtering pitcher for water. “He teaches sustainability in his classroom, he’s not about to use water bottles at home. He always wanted me to… Just trust me Ellen, please,” Castiel tried to keep the desperation out of his tone, but understood he was failing.
“You think they’d really be stupid enough to leave that behind?” Sam raised a brow.
“You’d think not, but maybe whoever was here was merely contracted, not one of Crowley’s men,” Castiel shrugged.
Ellen sighed, “Fine, I’ll call Forensics. But if you two are wrong about this…”
Sam and Castiel nodded, the threat was clear: they’d have to start circulating resumes.
xx
Dean flashed bloodied teeth and spit a glob of red to the dirty concrete floor. He glared up at the man standing before him, vision obscured by the rivulet of dark liquid. “Have you made your point yet?”
“No, and don’t tempt me to continue, Dean… I unfortunately need to keep you alive. As much as I would love to decorate the walls with your entrails, you serve a purpose.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“No, actually, my parents were pleasantly married for several years. They grew old together and died in one another’s arms, forever proud of their very legitimate son,” Crowley smiled unpleasantly.
“Fuck you,” Dean wheezed.
Crowley moved in and punched Dean hard in in the stomach. The green eyed man bit back the pained shout and coughed, the force of it aggravating bruised ribs.
“Maybe later,” Crowley said. “Right now, I have to get ready for a meeting. Big things.”
Crowley took the proffered moist towel from a man standing complacent and quiet near the table of Crowley’s instruments. The Scotsman daintily wiped his face and arms before he rolled down his shirt sleeves and fastened the pearl buttons. He tsked softly; the gentle sound so at odds with everything else echoed strangely around the room.
“Winchester, you’ve gotten blood on my shirt and now I have to change. I’m very upset about this,” Crowley said over his shoulder.
“I’ve very upset about your face,” Dean gritted out.
Crowley sighed, “Oh very droll. Ta for now, but I’ll be back.” Crowley began humming softly to himself, the sound of his expensive shoes echoing hollowly through the large space.
Dean listened until the steps faded and for the sound of a heavy metal door swinging shut, before he slumped against his duct tape bonds and let out a shaky breath, only to shoot his head back up when lighter steps came into the room moments later.
“Hey there.”
“Oh, if it isn’t Meg… Or do you prefer the Whore of Babylon?”
“Ha, ha, ha. You’re cute. I like you, Dean-o… It’s a real shame too…” Meg pouted.
“What do you want? More acerbic repartee or is this not a social call?” Dean tried to keep his strained voice casual.
“I just came to see what you thought of my little performance. Real Oscar winning stuff… If you ask me.” She sashayed towards him and hopped nimbly up on his lap, dropping her weight heavily on the wound in his thigh.
Dean grunted despite himself and glared at her face inches in front of his own. She shifted around until she straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“No one’s asking you, bitch,” Dean managed.
“Well regardless, I’m telling. One of my classier acts, if I’m being honest. Didn’t even have to take my clothes off this time. I find it strange that you’re so quick to doubt your sweetie’s honour, Dean. Trouble in paradise?”
Dean looked away and glared at the floor.
“Aww… don’t be like that… Truth is, Dean, I basically had to Ruffie the poor bastard to even get close to him… Special blend, though, cooked up by Crowley himself,” Meg winked. She gave Dean an exaggerated pout, “Then all I got was a lousy kiss with him whining about you the entire time.” Her voice turned mocking, “No… I can’t… I have someone.” Meg glowered, “Pulled out my best material, too. It’s a real shame… I would have loved to get on that again… Our little angel is a damn good fuck. But of course, you knew that already.”
Dean snapped his head up and around glowering at the woman. “Shut your mouth. Don’t you fucking talk about Cas that way.”
Meg laughed low and breathy as she leaned in, placing her lips right against Dean’s ear. “Oh Dean, the dirty little things he and I did when we were together… All the things he said. Was the best mark I ever had the… supreme pleasure of being with. He liked it rough, you know, shoved me against the wall so hard it hurt, but I liked it… And what he could-”
Dean growled and shoved his head towards her, knocking her hard with his forehead.
Meg shouted out, sharp and surprised, tumbled off at the sudden movement and pressed the heel of her hand to her head.
Dean hadn’t been at the right angle to hit her as hard as he could have, but he was still satisfied with the flash in her eyes.
Meg glared up at him from the floor before pushing herself sinuously to her feet and curling her lips in a smile again. She sauntered towards him, bracing herself on the arms of his chair where he was bound.
Bravely, Meg leaned into his ear once again. “Just remember Dean-o… I had him first.” She danced away from him before he could lash out again, curled her fingers in a wave, then she turned on her heel and left the room.
xx
Castiel looked up from his back, feeling strange to be on this end. He reached up, in awe slightly as he traced one delicate finger across a strong eyebrow. The gesture earned him a gentle smile and a soft kiss on the palm of his hand. Castiel shivered.
“Hey, hey, we don’t have to do this, Castiel,” Dean whispered in his ear. “I can wait, Babe. I promise.”
“No I…” Castiel hated the hesitation in his voice. Then he said firmly, “I want to. You’re different.”
Dean chuckled, “I should hope so… I’ll go slow, all right? How long has it been?”
Castiel blushed, mortified, and began picking at the stray beads of cotton on his thread-bare sheet. “I… since… Fuck. I feel like a damned teenager. A while. It’s been a while.”
“All right,” Dean’s voice was gentle and soothing, free from the usual teasing that Castiel normally relished in the love-making.
Castiel was a firm believer that if sex wasn’t fun, then there was no point in it. He didn’t need tears and soft breathy sighs and proclamations of love. Not that they had said that yet… Castiel wasn’t even sure if he knew the meaning of love any longer. It’s had been so long since he felt it.
Dean started off far slower than Castiel was used to from the younger man. Dean peppered gentle kisses on Castiel’s lips, nose, forehead, and neck. He trailed soft lips down Castiel chest, pampering each nipple with individual attention until they tingled with sensitivity that sent little shocks on a live-wire straight to Castiel’s groin.
Dean then trailed lower, tonguing the light swell of Castiel’s faintly defined abdominal muscles. Castiel was gasping now, fingers straining for purchase on Dean’s smooth skin, nails maybe digging in a fraction too deep as Dean finally dropped and took Castiel’s leaking erection into his far too talented mouth. Castiel, despite his usual control, let slip a sharp cry at the warm, wet heat and felt Dean’s lips curl in a self-satisfied smile against the soft skin of Castiel’s cock.
Castiel closed his eyes, gently kneading through Dean’s hair but not pushing or pulling, just riding out the lips and tongue and gentle hums. He was so involved for a moment that he forgot what he had just agreed to. It wasn’t until Castiel felt the first brush of a carefully lubricated finger that his eyes flew open and he scuttled back before he realized where he was again.
Dean shot up and pulled away immediately, hands held up to signify he meant Castiel no harm and would give him a moment before approaching again.
“Castiel…” Dean said gently, sadly but on Castiel’s behalf rather than Dean’s own.
“Fuck!” Castiel spat out harshly, frustrated and embarrassed at himself.
“Castiel, I’m so-”
“No!” Castiel shook his head quickly. “Don’t. Please Dean, don’t apologize. I don’t want that from you. This has nothing to do with you and I’m the one who’s-”
Dean shot forward quickly at that one, but Castiel didn’t startle as he was sure Dean half expected to if the last burst of caution was any indication. Dean ventured forward again, more slowly, and slipped a hand softly over Castiel’s mouth, stemming any apology that was about to follow.
“If you fucking apologize to me about this, I’m not going to forgive you,” Dean said firmly, eyes flashing in anger directed at a source unknown to him.
Castiel chuckled then, strained and perhaps a little manic. “We do that a lot… Fuck me… It’s only been two months and we already have a thing.”
Dean blinked. “Huh?”
“We’re forever trying to apologize to one another about things that are beyond our control. Have you noticed?”
“I… yeah… guess so,” Dean mused. “Huh.”
“Dean… could we maybe…? I think I want to sleep now,” Castiel said, he bit back the ‘sorry’ before it could slip out.
Dean smiled, easy and gentle. “I find I’m suddenly very tired.”
Castiel nodded, not trusting himself to say much right now. Not trusting himself to do much of anything and that was a thought so foreign to him that he had to mentally rewind and re-evaluate.
They settled down easily in Castiel’s bed, curling on their sides, Dean curled behind him. It was strange… but not unpleasant and Castiel subconsciously found himself nestled back further against Dean’s chest to feel more of his body and skin pressed tight against Castiel’s own. This was new for him… or old, perhaps. A Castiel he had not been in a long time. A Castiel he had buried in the sands and collateral of Afghanistan and later Iraq. Buried with his wife and son. Buried with his banishment from his father’s home and love. Buried from himself. Castiel shuddered.
“Hey… hey,” Dean whispered, soft and gentle behind him, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.
Castiel hated himself a little right now. Hated his vulnerability and weakness. Hated his complete and utter lack of control, and maybe hated Dean a little bit for doing this all to him in so short a time. One disarming smile and a flash of green eyes and a part of Castiel tore open that he had forgotten he owned. He wasn’t used to being this way. He wasn’t used to being the one not in control. He wasn’t used to things not happening on his own terms. He wasn’t used to letting someone in.
“Dude… what’s your one biggest piss-off about relationships? Not ones you’ve been in, necessarily, but something you just don’t get,” Dean said quite suddenly.
Castiel blinked; he didn’t have to think when he answered, “Infidelity.”
“Wow,” Dean remarked. “Yeah… that’s a biggy. Personal experience?”
Castiel shook his head against the pillow. “No, not to me personally, but it is something I don’t understand… I mean, if you no longer have an interest in a person, why bother to keep going? I never understood the point or the reasoning behind it. That damn line: ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’ So you betray someone instead? It’s idiotic. If the attraction is gone or not as strong as it is with someone else, cut the ties and move on as amicably as possible. It’s better in the long run.”
Castiel felt Dean’s smile curl against his neck. “Well, can’t argue that logic. I’m happy to inform you, I never cheated.”
“You could just be saying that,” Castiel said cynically.
“I’m not,” Dean assured.
Castiel shifted around, so he could look at Dean in the eyes. “Promise me something, then…”
“Okay…” Dean agreed hesitantly.
“If this stops working for you, I need you to tell me. I don’t want either of us to drag out something that isn’t working, all right? I’d do it for you.”
Dean swallowed. “Ah yeah… sure… But Castiel, I-”
Castiel smiled gently. “Dean, rest assured. It’s working very well. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah… I actually think it’s kinda awesome,” Dean smiled.
“Good,” Castiel nodded firmly. He shifted around again and settled his back against Dean’s chest once more, finding the position exceedingly comfortable. He wasn’t used to being the smaller party in a relationship. It was… protective. Safe in a way Castiel had not allowed himself to feel in a long, long time. At that thought, Castiel felt a twist and squeeze in his stomach and chest; a leap as his pulse picked up. Admittedly, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Perhaps sensing the shift, Dean’s arms tightened but he wisely decided not to comment.
A long silence followed, Castiel felt his eyes begin to droop, his breath even out. In that strange muzzy state between sleeping and wakefulness, he felt compelled.
“Just over ten years,” the blue-eyed agent remarked sleepily.
“Huh?” Dean jolted at Castiel’s voice, probably further under than Castiel had been.
“Since I let a man top… Just over ten years,” Castiel answered.
Dean nodded, dropping a kiss to Castiel’s neck again. “Okay. Sleep, Cas.”
That was the first time Dean had ever used the nickname, though at that point Castiel had been too far under to realize it.
xx
Castiel jolted awake in his empty bed, gasping into the night and cursing the tender memory turned dream that was already starting to fade in the pale dawn. Why did he have to dream about that now? Why that tender, sweet moment? The moment when Castiel began to fall a little in love with Dean. Dean, who had gone missing and was having God knew what done to him. Dean, who Castiel had lost the minute he let Meg get too close to him. Castiel, who had vowed he would never, ever be unfaithful.
With the confession of that night, with the slow realization of growing feelings, with Dean’s gentle acceptance, it’s like it all clicked into place. Dean wasn’t his asshole ex. Dean was Dean. Dean was new and real and soft and vulnerable and hard as marble and just as easily molded by a skilled artist’s hand.
Dean was a walking conundrum with his easy smile, easy laughs, and easy tears, while at the same time having an unwavering strength that Castiel had never encountered before. He was something more. He was Dean, bright and powerful and the most human creature Castiel had ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Castiel took Dean in, just a few hours after that. For the first time in over ten years, Castiel had allowed himself to open up, to surrender, and it had been an almost profound experience. That was when Castiel fell from just a little in love to being in way over his head in far too quick a time, and he’d been stuck there since. Hopelessly, madly in love with Dean Winchester, the most infuriating person he had ever met.
Now, Castiel had screwed up. He had betrayed Dean in a way he never thought he ever could have. He had lost Dean in more ways than the obvious. Castiel felt sick.
He rolled into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands, then decided going back to sleep probably wasn’t going to happen. It was early yet, but Castiel could care less. He stumbled to the shower and turned the spray on as hot as he could tolerate. Felt it prick and redden his skin, wished that it was able to magically wash the stress, guilt, and personal torment away as easily as it was able to sluice off the dirt and grit of sleep.
He finished quicker than he normally would have, not taking the same pleasure in the stream as he would have once. He dried and dressed, quick and clinical, and left without a backward glance at the empty apartment.
The clock on his SUV’s dash proclaimed it was ten minutes after six in the morning. A week ago, this hour for Castiel would have been unthinkable, but a week ago, he had been happy. A week ago, he was secure in the knowledge that Dean was just a quick hour away, content and safe. A week ago, Castiel still gained pleasure from sleep and the occasional dream of Dean in the dark of night. That was then, before sleepless nights, worry, and anxiety. Before he was desperate to dig up whatever answers he could and find Dean. Dean who had been officially missing now for almost twenty-four hours but God knew how much longer before that.
Castiel felt his hands begin to quiver and his eyes burn, but he gritted his teeth against both reactions. He focused instead on getting to his office and getting to work. So focused was he that his phone chirping at his side made him grateful for the early hour, as he swerved his SUV across the dividing line of the traffic lanes.
Castiel let out a shaky breath and eased the car onto the shoulder of the road. After fumbling for his phone, he read the text.
DNA - Alec Kruschev.
Castiel blinked down at the name robotically before an angry coil grew and grew until his only choice was to scream into the silence of the car.
“Fuck!” Castiel pounded the steering wheel with an open hand. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!”
Castiel couldn’t hold it anymore, the sleepless nights, the painful reminder of Dean in the dream and subsequently the shell the younger man had torn down. The stress, the anger, the overwhelming fear… It all shattered suddenly, it was one great heave and Castiel broke free with a choking sob.
His shoulders shook as he slumped over the steering wheel, his forehead pressed painfully against hard curves as he cried. His hands tight and knuckles white, air quickly leaving his lungs as he drenched his own skin in tears. He just stayed like that for several moments until his throat ached and his skin was itchy with drying salt water, eyes red and puffy.
He wasn’t startled this time when his phone rang. He thought briefly about letting it go to voicemail but answered and rested his head back against the seat, saying nothing.
“Cas… Cas are you there? We got DNA, Cas, did you see?” Sam’s voice was eager.
Castiel replied numbly, “It doesn’t matter, Sam. Alec Kruschev is Dean’s department head at the Academy.”
Sam voice fell, “What?”
“You heard me, Sam, I met him at the Christmas party. We’ll go talk to him anyway. He was the last to see Dean, but I’m not sure if he’ll have any information for us. I’m on my way to the office now. I’ll get his permanent address once I’m there.”
“You’re on your way now? Jesus, Cas, its six-thirty in the morning,” Sam murmured. “Have you been sleeping at all?”
Castiel snorted bitterly, “Sleep.” He hung up without a goodbye. He’d feel guilty for it later, but now he was just… blank.
xx
Sam met him at about seven o’clock, coffees in hand. He looked vaguely guilty himself and Castiel assumed he had fought with Jessica about coming in. Castiel found out his guess had been right on the money when Sam had told him as much after the tall man entered Castiel’s office.
Alec’s home address had been easy enough to locate and he lived only about two hours east of Boston. The trip wouldn’t be bad going against traffic and with Castiel at the wheel. He tried to stay positive, but figured Alec had only been there to check on his friend. Dean and he had seemed fairly close at the party and it would be only natural for Alec to show concern, depending on how much he knew about Dean’s situation.
Needless to say, the ride out of the city had been slightly awkward; neither agent felt like talking about much of anything and all of Sam’s early morning enthusiasm has been let out of him like air from a balloon. Now the young man just looked strained and pale. Shadows under Sam’s eyes, evidence of the healing his body was still undertaking, lips tight in pain or apprehension, Castiel wasn’t sure.
“Jessica will forgive you, Sam. She’s just worried,” Castiel tried quietly. “I’m sorry about how I was this morning. You caught me at a… vulnerable moment.”
“Yeah, no worries, Man. I know this is hard on you too, especially after you and Dean just fought. Jess will be fine, yeah… I was just… so excited, you know? Finally a good solid lead and then…” Sam blew out his fingers in the widely used gesture for explosion, before letting his hand drop heavily to his lap.
Castiel nodded. “We’ll be there soon.”
The house Alec Kruschev lived in seemed larger than someone with a teacher’s salary could afford. It surprised the older man a little, knowing Alec wasn’t married and not even expecting a house at all. It was in a quiet neighbourhood, on a quiet street, with perfect lawns and fifty-thousand dollar vehicles sitting in driveways.
Castiel blinked; he knew Alec didn’t make that much. Dean’s salary for the Academy had only been fractionally larger than his salary from the public school.
“Ah… Dean’s Department Head you said?” Sam asked carefully.
“Perhaps they do well,” Castiel shrugged.
“Wife maybe?”
“Not married… At least he was there with Me… um… a woman he wasn’t married to. His date had implied that Alec was generally lonely at the school events.”
“Family money, maybe,” Sam offered, getting out of the car.
Even the asphalt of the driveway had no cracks in in for God’s sake. Castiel frowned. Both agents walked towards the brick entry way and Castiel noticed something that would otherwise be innocuous on the lawn. He reached out and grabbed Sam’s arm. Sam stopped, wincing only slightly and gave Castiel a questioning look. Castiel gestured to the bright red metal trike sitting on the lawn, half covered in snow.
“So?” Sam prompted.
“Alec told Dean he didn’t have any children,” Castiel replied. “That was one of the main reasons that we were all sitting together. So few of the teachers were childless, that those that were tended to congregate.”
“So why would he have a tricycle in front of his house?” Sam inferred.
“Exactly.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” Sam said grimly, moving towards the door once again. Castiel reached out and stopped Sam.
“You’re still not one-hundred percent. I’ll go first,” Castiel offered. He climbed the stairs, Sam at his heel, and rang the doorbell. The two agents heard it chime faintly from the front porch but did not sense any immediate movement on the other side. They shared a look briefly before Castiel chose this time to knock. He did so, loudly. They heard faint shuffling and then a muffled voice through the wood and glass.
“Who is it?”
“FBI, we’re looking for Mr. Kruschev,” Castiel chose not to identify himself for the moment. He had a feeling it would not help their case if Alec remembered his name. Castiel decided since Dean’s disappearance to rely on his instincts for a change.
“Just a minute,” the muffled voice again.
Castiel tucked himself behind Sam so he was half obscured. Sam shot him a questioning look at the sudden change but Castiel glared back at him. Sam shrugged, but nodded, just as the door swung open.
“I’m Alec Kruschev,” he said hesitantly once he had eased the wooden door open.
“I’m Agent Winchester this is my partner Agent L’Ange, we-” Sam’s words were cut off by Alec moving to slam the door shut but Castiel was faster; he picked up on the man’s skittishness immediately and managed to wedge his toe in between the door and shove it open, knocking the teacher away and into the wall.
“I take it you recognize me, then,” Castiel remarked, hefting the dazed man up and shoving him back against the wall. “Why were you going to run, Alec?”
“No, please, you don’t-”
“Alec Kruschev, you are under arrest,” Castiel said. He spun Alec around and pressed him rougher than he needed to against the wall, twisting his hands around and slipping the cuffs on his wrists.
“‘Winchester’? Are you Dean’s brother?” Alec asked, looking up at Sam as Castiel hustled Alec out of the house.
“Please be advised, Mr. Kruschev, anything you say at this time can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Sam remarked.
“Please,” Alec pressed back against Castiel; he wasn’t quite as strong as the blue-eyed agent but he had desperation at his side. “Please, listen to me… I had to… You don’t understand… He has my daughter.”
Castiel and Sam shared a glance and Sam closed the front door. The agents and captor moved back into the house and Castiel deposited Alec on the hallway bench, looming over him in the shadowed corridor.
“Do you know what happened to Dean?” Castiel pressed.
Alec nodded hastily, “Yes! I do… I did it. My wife was an executive who - about six months ago - did some work with a man named Fergus McLeod. I don’t think she was entirely certain of who he was at the time. He was very charming despite everything and well… they would talk.
“McLeod found about me and our daughter, Abby. I was home at the time while my wife worked. I decided to stay home for our daughter.
“Once when they talked, my wife told McLeod that I was a certified teacher. He seemed incredibly interested and mentioned that there was a position opening up at his son’s school if I was looking to start teaching again. Given the economy, money was getting a little tight, and I was more than willing to take every opportunity I could find. So when he came along with this, it just seemed perfect. I took it without a thought.”
“Alec, you said your wife… was?” Castiel prompted.
Alec looked down at his shoes. “Yes, my wife began to get a strange feeling about some of the business she was doing with McLeod and she began to dig a little bit. It wasn’t long before she found the truth and put two and two together. She pissed off the wrong people and she died in a car accident a month after they began working together.
“I have no doubt in my mind that it wasn’t an accident.
“About a month after that I was approached by Meg. She said that her boss had a proposition for me. I didn’t accept at first, of course. I immediately knew who she was working for. Then, one night I woke up to this horrible crash. I raced down the hall to my daughter’s room to see that Abby was gone. Just vanished. I looked for her. I went to the police, but nothing. Then I get a letter in the mail. It was from Crowley, who told me that if I didn’t do what he wanted then my daughter would join my wife.”
Castiel leaned forward and gripped Alec’s shoulder tightly. “How did you know it was from Crowley?”
Alec frowned. “He signed it.”
“What?” Sam asked surprised.
“He signed it,” Alec repeated. “There was nothing explicit in the letter, even my daughter being kidnapped wasn’t referred to specifically. They letter was laid out like a job offer and he signed it Fergus Roderic McLeod. One of the things my wife found was his alias: Crowley. I met with him and he gave me the details in private.”
“My God,” Sam whispered. “Crowley is Fergus McLeod.”
“How did we not know this?” Castiel shook his head.
“Guess he kept his secrets closely guarded,” Sam replied grimly.
“So basically,” Castiel said. “We have everything we need to get him off the street. Mr. Kruschev, would you be willing to testify?”
Alec shook his head. “No! If I do, he’ll kill my daughter. Look, I just told you all this so you’ll let me go, all right? If he finds out I talked, she’s dead.”
“You never presented us with any such stipulation, Mr. Kruschev,” Castiel said coolly and forced Alec to his feet.
“No! Wait, please, stop. I know where Dean is!”
That did get the two men to stop. Castiel shook Alec. “You do?”
“Yes! I do… Or I know how you can find him anyway… Look, I have a phone number, it should still work. Just please, let me go.”
“We can’t do that Alec,” Castiel said gently. “However, we can turn you over to Boston PD and have them put a good word in for you with the District Attorney. They can protect you.”
“What about my little girl?” Alec asked brokenly.
Sam shared a look with Castiel before he turned away and said, “We’ll find her.”
Castiel clenched his jaw at Sam’s words and led the bound man from the house. He wanted to be relieved, he really did, but nothing ever seemed to go this easily. It was all too perfect.
End Chapter
Previous | Master Post | Next
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all associated characters belong to Kripke and Co. I make absolutely no claims on any of them.
Special Thanks to dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
Please see Master Post for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information
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Ellen quirked a brow, taking in the room. “I don’t quite get what you’re seeing here, Castiel, I’m sorry. This just looks like the apartment of any thirty-something guy living on his own if you ask me.”
After stepping into the apartment, Castiel immediately called Sam who called Ellen. She usually didn’t get directly involved in their cases but Sam figured that they would need some clout behind them to get this moving as quickly as possible. Castiel really couldn’t blame her observation, and wouldn’t have, had he not known Dean so well.
Castiel’s first clue had been the water bottle sitting innocuously on the coffee table. When Castiel got further in the room he saw papers scattered along the dining table, dumped free from Dean’s satchel. There were also a few discarded food wrappers strewn across the floor by the couch.
Castiel moved slowly around the room and when he saw the coffee maker sitting pulled clear of the wall with dredges of a pot still listless in the bottom, it was pretty easy to figure out. Just to be extra cautious however, Castiel moved into the bedroom and saw the bed turned down as if someone had either left it in a hurry or was just preparing to crawl in.
“Ellen… There’s one thing we left out about Dean,” Sam began hesitantly.
“Oh?” Ellen asked, turning away from her survey of the apartment to face the two agents.
“Yeah, we don’t really… talk about it and he’s never officially been diagnosed, but ever since Dean was four he’s had…” Sam trailed off.
“Minor obsessive compulsive tendencies,” Castiel supplied. “Nothing incredibly debilitating, just a strong desire for things to be neat and tidy… Things to be in their places and ordered. The more stressed he gets, the more aggressive he becomes with it and I imagine he’s rather more stressed lately than usual… Considering…” Castiel didn’t finish, just stared resolutely at a spot on the floor.
“Yeah, he has been… So to walk in and see this,” Sam’s gesture was all encompassing. “Basically to Cas and I, knowing Dean and how he is, this place is trashed. Not only were they looking for something but they left in a hurry with Dean in tow,” Sam said firmly.
“But thankfully, they also left something behind,” Castiel nodded to the bottle on the coffee table.
“What, your boy doesn’t drink water?” Ellen was still sceptical.
“Not out of a bottle, he wouldn’t,” Castiel shook his head. He led Ellen and Sam into the kitchenette and opened the small refrigerator after carefully slipping a black latex glove around the handle, so as not to contaminate it with his own fingerprints, and gestured to the complete lack of disposable water bottles.
Castiel indicated the self-filtering pitcher for water. “He teaches sustainability in his classroom, he’s not about to use water bottles at home. He always wanted me to… Just trust me Ellen, please,” Castiel tried to keep the desperation out of his tone, but understood he was failing.
“You think they’d really be stupid enough to leave that behind?” Sam raised a brow.
“You’d think not, but maybe whoever was here was merely contracted, not one of Crowley’s men,” Castiel shrugged.
Ellen sighed, “Fine, I’ll call Forensics. But if you two are wrong about this…”
Sam and Castiel nodded, the threat was clear: they’d have to start circulating resumes.
xx
Dean flashed bloodied teeth and spit a glob of red to the dirty concrete floor. He glared up at the man standing before him, vision obscured by the rivulet of dark liquid. “Have you made your point yet?”
“No, and don’t tempt me to continue, Dean… I unfortunately need to keep you alive. As much as I would love to decorate the walls with your entrails, you serve a purpose.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“No, actually, my parents were pleasantly married for several years. They grew old together and died in one another’s arms, forever proud of their very legitimate son,” Crowley smiled unpleasantly.
“Fuck you,” Dean wheezed.
Crowley moved in and punched Dean hard in in the stomach. The green eyed man bit back the pained shout and coughed, the force of it aggravating bruised ribs.
“Maybe later,” Crowley said. “Right now, I have to get ready for a meeting. Big things.”
Crowley took the proffered moist towel from a man standing complacent and quiet near the table of Crowley’s instruments. The Scotsman daintily wiped his face and arms before he rolled down his shirt sleeves and fastened the pearl buttons. He tsked softly; the gentle sound so at odds with everything else echoed strangely around the room.
“Winchester, you’ve gotten blood on my shirt and now I have to change. I’m very upset about this,” Crowley said over his shoulder.
“I’ve very upset about your face,” Dean gritted out.
Crowley sighed, “Oh very droll. Ta for now, but I’ll be back.” Crowley began humming softly to himself, the sound of his expensive shoes echoing hollowly through the large space.
Dean listened until the steps faded and for the sound of a heavy metal door swinging shut, before he slumped against his duct tape bonds and let out a shaky breath, only to shoot his head back up when lighter steps came into the room moments later.
“Hey there.”
“Oh, if it isn’t Meg… Or do you prefer the Whore of Babylon?”
“Ha, ha, ha. You’re cute. I like you, Dean-o… It’s a real shame too…” Meg pouted.
“What do you want? More acerbic repartee or is this not a social call?” Dean tried to keep his strained voice casual.
“I just came to see what you thought of my little performance. Real Oscar winning stuff… If you ask me.” She sashayed towards him and hopped nimbly up on his lap, dropping her weight heavily on the wound in his thigh.
Dean grunted despite himself and glared at her face inches in front of his own. She shifted around until she straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“No one’s asking you, bitch,” Dean managed.
“Well regardless, I’m telling. One of my classier acts, if I’m being honest. Didn’t even have to take my clothes off this time. I find it strange that you’re so quick to doubt your sweetie’s honour, Dean. Trouble in paradise?”
Dean looked away and glared at the floor.
“Aww… don’t be like that… Truth is, Dean, I basically had to Ruffie the poor bastard to even get close to him… Special blend, though, cooked up by Crowley himself,” Meg winked. She gave Dean an exaggerated pout, “Then all I got was a lousy kiss with him whining about you the entire time.” Her voice turned mocking, “No… I can’t… I have someone.” Meg glowered, “Pulled out my best material, too. It’s a real shame… I would have loved to get on that again… Our little angel is a damn good fuck. But of course, you knew that already.”
Dean snapped his head up and around glowering at the woman. “Shut your mouth. Don’t you fucking talk about Cas that way.”
Meg laughed low and breathy as she leaned in, placing her lips right against Dean’s ear. “Oh Dean, the dirty little things he and I did when we were together… All the things he said. Was the best mark I ever had the… supreme pleasure of being with. He liked it rough, you know, shoved me against the wall so hard it hurt, but I liked it… And what he could-”
Dean growled and shoved his head towards her, knocking her hard with his forehead.
Meg shouted out, sharp and surprised, tumbled off at the sudden movement and pressed the heel of her hand to her head.
Dean hadn’t been at the right angle to hit her as hard as he could have, but he was still satisfied with the flash in her eyes.
Meg glared up at him from the floor before pushing herself sinuously to her feet and curling her lips in a smile again. She sauntered towards him, bracing herself on the arms of his chair where he was bound.
Bravely, Meg leaned into his ear once again. “Just remember Dean-o… I had him first.” She danced away from him before he could lash out again, curled her fingers in a wave, then she turned on her heel and left the room.
xx
Castiel looked up from his back, feeling strange to be on this end. He reached up, in awe slightly as he traced one delicate finger across a strong eyebrow. The gesture earned him a gentle smile and a soft kiss on the palm of his hand. Castiel shivered.
“Hey, hey, we don’t have to do this, Castiel,” Dean whispered in his ear. “I can wait, Babe. I promise.”
“No I…” Castiel hated the hesitation in his voice. Then he said firmly, “I want to. You’re different.”
Dean chuckled, “I should hope so… I’ll go slow, all right? How long has it been?”
Castiel blushed, mortified, and began picking at the stray beads of cotton on his thread-bare sheet. “I… since… Fuck. I feel like a damned teenager. A while. It’s been a while.”
“All right,” Dean’s voice was gentle and soothing, free from the usual teasing that Castiel normally relished in the love-making.
Castiel was a firm believer that if sex wasn’t fun, then there was no point in it. He didn’t need tears and soft breathy sighs and proclamations of love. Not that they had said that yet… Castiel wasn’t even sure if he knew the meaning of love any longer. It’s had been so long since he felt it.
Dean started off far slower than Castiel was used to from the younger man. Dean peppered gentle kisses on Castiel’s lips, nose, forehead, and neck. He trailed soft lips down Castiel chest, pampering each nipple with individual attention until they tingled with sensitivity that sent little shocks on a live-wire straight to Castiel’s groin.
Dean then trailed lower, tonguing the light swell of Castiel’s faintly defined abdominal muscles. Castiel was gasping now, fingers straining for purchase on Dean’s smooth skin, nails maybe digging in a fraction too deep as Dean finally dropped and took Castiel’s leaking erection into his far too talented mouth. Castiel, despite his usual control, let slip a sharp cry at the warm, wet heat and felt Dean’s lips curl in a self-satisfied smile against the soft skin of Castiel’s cock.
Castiel closed his eyes, gently kneading through Dean’s hair but not pushing or pulling, just riding out the lips and tongue and gentle hums. He was so involved for a moment that he forgot what he had just agreed to. It wasn’t until Castiel felt the first brush of a carefully lubricated finger that his eyes flew open and he scuttled back before he realized where he was again.
Dean shot up and pulled away immediately, hands held up to signify he meant Castiel no harm and would give him a moment before approaching again.
“Castiel…” Dean said gently, sadly but on Castiel’s behalf rather than Dean’s own.
“Fuck!” Castiel spat out harshly, frustrated and embarrassed at himself.
“Castiel, I’m so-”
“No!” Castiel shook his head quickly. “Don’t. Please Dean, don’t apologize. I don’t want that from you. This has nothing to do with you and I’m the one who’s-”
Dean shot forward quickly at that one, but Castiel didn’t startle as he was sure Dean half expected to if the last burst of caution was any indication. Dean ventured forward again, more slowly, and slipped a hand softly over Castiel’s mouth, stemming any apology that was about to follow.
“If you fucking apologize to me about this, I’m not going to forgive you,” Dean said firmly, eyes flashing in anger directed at a source unknown to him.
Castiel chuckled then, strained and perhaps a little manic. “We do that a lot… Fuck me… It’s only been two months and we already have a thing.”
Dean blinked. “Huh?”
“We’re forever trying to apologize to one another about things that are beyond our control. Have you noticed?”
“I… yeah… guess so,” Dean mused. “Huh.”
“Dean… could we maybe…? I think I want to sleep now,” Castiel said, he bit back the ‘sorry’ before it could slip out.
Dean smiled, easy and gentle. “I find I’m suddenly very tired.”
Castiel nodded, not trusting himself to say much right now. Not trusting himself to do much of anything and that was a thought so foreign to him that he had to mentally rewind and re-evaluate.
They settled down easily in Castiel’s bed, curling on their sides, Dean curled behind him. It was strange… but not unpleasant and Castiel subconsciously found himself nestled back further against Dean’s chest to feel more of his body and skin pressed tight against Castiel’s own. This was new for him… or old, perhaps. A Castiel he had not been in a long time. A Castiel he had buried in the sands and collateral of Afghanistan and later Iraq. Buried with his wife and son. Buried with his banishment from his father’s home and love. Buried from himself. Castiel shuddered.
“Hey… hey,” Dean whispered, soft and gentle behind him, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.
Castiel hated himself a little right now. Hated his vulnerability and weakness. Hated his complete and utter lack of control, and maybe hated Dean a little bit for doing this all to him in so short a time. One disarming smile and a flash of green eyes and a part of Castiel tore open that he had forgotten he owned. He wasn’t used to being this way. He wasn’t used to being the one not in control. He wasn’t used to things not happening on his own terms. He wasn’t used to letting someone in.
“Dude… what’s your one biggest piss-off about relationships? Not ones you’ve been in, necessarily, but something you just don’t get,” Dean said quite suddenly.
Castiel blinked; he didn’t have to think when he answered, “Infidelity.”
“Wow,” Dean remarked. “Yeah… that’s a biggy. Personal experience?”
Castiel shook his head against the pillow. “No, not to me personally, but it is something I don’t understand… I mean, if you no longer have an interest in a person, why bother to keep going? I never understood the point or the reasoning behind it. That damn line: ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’ So you betray someone instead? It’s idiotic. If the attraction is gone or not as strong as it is with someone else, cut the ties and move on as amicably as possible. It’s better in the long run.”
Castiel felt Dean’s smile curl against his neck. “Well, can’t argue that logic. I’m happy to inform you, I never cheated.”
“You could just be saying that,” Castiel said cynically.
“I’m not,” Dean assured.
Castiel shifted around, so he could look at Dean in the eyes. “Promise me something, then…”
“Okay…” Dean agreed hesitantly.
“If this stops working for you, I need you to tell me. I don’t want either of us to drag out something that isn’t working, all right? I’d do it for you.”
Dean swallowed. “Ah yeah… sure… But Castiel, I-”
Castiel smiled gently. “Dean, rest assured. It’s working very well. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah… I actually think it’s kinda awesome,” Dean smiled.
“Good,” Castiel nodded firmly. He shifted around again and settled his back against Dean’s chest once more, finding the position exceedingly comfortable. He wasn’t used to being the smaller party in a relationship. It was… protective. Safe in a way Castiel had not allowed himself to feel in a long, long time. At that thought, Castiel felt a twist and squeeze in his stomach and chest; a leap as his pulse picked up. Admittedly, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Perhaps sensing the shift, Dean’s arms tightened but he wisely decided not to comment.
A long silence followed, Castiel felt his eyes begin to droop, his breath even out. In that strange muzzy state between sleeping and wakefulness, he felt compelled.
“Just over ten years,” the blue-eyed agent remarked sleepily.
“Huh?” Dean jolted at Castiel’s voice, probably further under than Castiel had been.
“Since I let a man top… Just over ten years,” Castiel answered.
Dean nodded, dropping a kiss to Castiel’s neck again. “Okay. Sleep, Cas.”
That was the first time Dean had ever used the nickname, though at that point Castiel had been too far under to realize it.
xx
Castiel jolted awake in his empty bed, gasping into the night and cursing the tender memory turned dream that was already starting to fade in the pale dawn. Why did he have to dream about that now? Why that tender, sweet moment? The moment when Castiel began to fall a little in love with Dean. Dean, who had gone missing and was having God knew what done to him. Dean, who Castiel had lost the minute he let Meg get too close to him. Castiel, who had vowed he would never, ever be unfaithful.
With the confession of that night, with the slow realization of growing feelings, with Dean’s gentle acceptance, it’s like it all clicked into place. Dean wasn’t his asshole ex. Dean was Dean. Dean was new and real and soft and vulnerable and hard as marble and just as easily molded by a skilled artist’s hand.
Dean was a walking conundrum with his easy smile, easy laughs, and easy tears, while at the same time having an unwavering strength that Castiel had never encountered before. He was something more. He was Dean, bright and powerful and the most human creature Castiel had ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Castiel took Dean in, just a few hours after that. For the first time in over ten years, Castiel had allowed himself to open up, to surrender, and it had been an almost profound experience. That was when Castiel fell from just a little in love to being in way over his head in far too quick a time, and he’d been stuck there since. Hopelessly, madly in love with Dean Winchester, the most infuriating person he had ever met.
Now, Castiel had screwed up. He had betrayed Dean in a way he never thought he ever could have. He had lost Dean in more ways than the obvious. Castiel felt sick.
He rolled into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands, then decided going back to sleep probably wasn’t going to happen. It was early yet, but Castiel could care less. He stumbled to the shower and turned the spray on as hot as he could tolerate. Felt it prick and redden his skin, wished that it was able to magically wash the stress, guilt, and personal torment away as easily as it was able to sluice off the dirt and grit of sleep.
He finished quicker than he normally would have, not taking the same pleasure in the stream as he would have once. He dried and dressed, quick and clinical, and left without a backward glance at the empty apartment.
The clock on his SUV’s dash proclaimed it was ten minutes after six in the morning. A week ago, this hour for Castiel would have been unthinkable, but a week ago, he had been happy. A week ago, he was secure in the knowledge that Dean was just a quick hour away, content and safe. A week ago, Castiel still gained pleasure from sleep and the occasional dream of Dean in the dark of night. That was then, before sleepless nights, worry, and anxiety. Before he was desperate to dig up whatever answers he could and find Dean. Dean who had been officially missing now for almost twenty-four hours but God knew how much longer before that.
Castiel felt his hands begin to quiver and his eyes burn, but he gritted his teeth against both reactions. He focused instead on getting to his office and getting to work. So focused was he that his phone chirping at his side made him grateful for the early hour, as he swerved his SUV across the dividing line of the traffic lanes.
Castiel let out a shaky breath and eased the car onto the shoulder of the road. After fumbling for his phone, he read the text.
DNA - Alec Kruschev.
Castiel blinked down at the name robotically before an angry coil grew and grew until his only choice was to scream into the silence of the car.
“Fuck!” Castiel pounded the steering wheel with an open hand. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!”
Castiel couldn’t hold it anymore, the sleepless nights, the painful reminder of Dean in the dream and subsequently the shell the younger man had torn down. The stress, the anger, the overwhelming fear… It all shattered suddenly, it was one great heave and Castiel broke free with a choking sob.
His shoulders shook as he slumped over the steering wheel, his forehead pressed painfully against hard curves as he cried. His hands tight and knuckles white, air quickly leaving his lungs as he drenched his own skin in tears. He just stayed like that for several moments until his throat ached and his skin was itchy with drying salt water, eyes red and puffy.
He wasn’t startled this time when his phone rang. He thought briefly about letting it go to voicemail but answered and rested his head back against the seat, saying nothing.
“Cas… Cas are you there? We got DNA, Cas, did you see?” Sam’s voice was eager.
Castiel replied numbly, “It doesn’t matter, Sam. Alec Kruschev is Dean’s department head at the Academy.”
Sam voice fell, “What?”
“You heard me, Sam, I met him at the Christmas party. We’ll go talk to him anyway. He was the last to see Dean, but I’m not sure if he’ll have any information for us. I’m on my way to the office now. I’ll get his permanent address once I’m there.”
“You’re on your way now? Jesus, Cas, its six-thirty in the morning,” Sam murmured. “Have you been sleeping at all?”
Castiel snorted bitterly, “Sleep.” He hung up without a goodbye. He’d feel guilty for it later, but now he was just… blank.
xx
Sam met him at about seven o’clock, coffees in hand. He looked vaguely guilty himself and Castiel assumed he had fought with Jessica about coming in. Castiel found out his guess had been right on the money when Sam had told him as much after the tall man entered Castiel’s office.
Alec’s home address had been easy enough to locate and he lived only about two hours east of Boston. The trip wouldn’t be bad going against traffic and with Castiel at the wheel. He tried to stay positive, but figured Alec had only been there to check on his friend. Dean and he had seemed fairly close at the party and it would be only natural for Alec to show concern, depending on how much he knew about Dean’s situation.
Needless to say, the ride out of the city had been slightly awkward; neither agent felt like talking about much of anything and all of Sam’s early morning enthusiasm has been let out of him like air from a balloon. Now the young man just looked strained and pale. Shadows under Sam’s eyes, evidence of the healing his body was still undertaking, lips tight in pain or apprehension, Castiel wasn’t sure.
“Jessica will forgive you, Sam. She’s just worried,” Castiel tried quietly. “I’m sorry about how I was this morning. You caught me at a… vulnerable moment.”
“Yeah, no worries, Man. I know this is hard on you too, especially after you and Dean just fought. Jess will be fine, yeah… I was just… so excited, you know? Finally a good solid lead and then…” Sam blew out his fingers in the widely used gesture for explosion, before letting his hand drop heavily to his lap.
Castiel nodded. “We’ll be there soon.”
The house Alec Kruschev lived in seemed larger than someone with a teacher’s salary could afford. It surprised the older man a little, knowing Alec wasn’t married and not even expecting a house at all. It was in a quiet neighbourhood, on a quiet street, with perfect lawns and fifty-thousand dollar vehicles sitting in driveways.
Castiel blinked; he knew Alec didn’t make that much. Dean’s salary for the Academy had only been fractionally larger than his salary from the public school.
“Ah… Dean’s Department Head you said?” Sam asked carefully.
“Perhaps they do well,” Castiel shrugged.
“Wife maybe?”
“Not married… At least he was there with Me… um… a woman he wasn’t married to. His date had implied that Alec was generally lonely at the school events.”
“Family money, maybe,” Sam offered, getting out of the car.
Even the asphalt of the driveway had no cracks in in for God’s sake. Castiel frowned. Both agents walked towards the brick entry way and Castiel noticed something that would otherwise be innocuous on the lawn. He reached out and grabbed Sam’s arm. Sam stopped, wincing only slightly and gave Castiel a questioning look. Castiel gestured to the bright red metal trike sitting on the lawn, half covered in snow.
“So?” Sam prompted.
“Alec told Dean he didn’t have any children,” Castiel replied. “That was one of the main reasons that we were all sitting together. So few of the teachers were childless, that those that were tended to congregate.”
“So why would he have a tricycle in front of his house?” Sam inferred.
“Exactly.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” Sam said grimly, moving towards the door once again. Castiel reached out and stopped Sam.
“You’re still not one-hundred percent. I’ll go first,” Castiel offered. He climbed the stairs, Sam at his heel, and rang the doorbell. The two agents heard it chime faintly from the front porch but did not sense any immediate movement on the other side. They shared a look briefly before Castiel chose this time to knock. He did so, loudly. They heard faint shuffling and then a muffled voice through the wood and glass.
“Who is it?”
“FBI, we’re looking for Mr. Kruschev,” Castiel chose not to identify himself for the moment. He had a feeling it would not help their case if Alec remembered his name. Castiel decided since Dean’s disappearance to rely on his instincts for a change.
“Just a minute,” the muffled voice again.
Castiel tucked himself behind Sam so he was half obscured. Sam shot him a questioning look at the sudden change but Castiel glared back at him. Sam shrugged, but nodded, just as the door swung open.
“I’m Alec Kruschev,” he said hesitantly once he had eased the wooden door open.
“I’m Agent Winchester this is my partner Agent L’Ange, we-” Sam’s words were cut off by Alec moving to slam the door shut but Castiel was faster; he picked up on the man’s skittishness immediately and managed to wedge his toe in between the door and shove it open, knocking the teacher away and into the wall.
“I take it you recognize me, then,” Castiel remarked, hefting the dazed man up and shoving him back against the wall. “Why were you going to run, Alec?”
“No, please, you don’t-”
“Alec Kruschev, you are under arrest,” Castiel said. He spun Alec around and pressed him rougher than he needed to against the wall, twisting his hands around and slipping the cuffs on his wrists.
“‘Winchester’? Are you Dean’s brother?” Alec asked, looking up at Sam as Castiel hustled Alec out of the house.
“Please be advised, Mr. Kruschev, anything you say at this time can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Sam remarked.
“Please,” Alec pressed back against Castiel; he wasn’t quite as strong as the blue-eyed agent but he had desperation at his side. “Please, listen to me… I had to… You don’t understand… He has my daughter.”
Castiel and Sam shared a glance and Sam closed the front door. The agents and captor moved back into the house and Castiel deposited Alec on the hallway bench, looming over him in the shadowed corridor.
“Do you know what happened to Dean?” Castiel pressed.
Alec nodded hastily, “Yes! I do… I did it. My wife was an executive who - about six months ago - did some work with a man named Fergus McLeod. I don’t think she was entirely certain of who he was at the time. He was very charming despite everything and well… they would talk.
“McLeod found about me and our daughter, Abby. I was home at the time while my wife worked. I decided to stay home for our daughter.
“Once when they talked, my wife told McLeod that I was a certified teacher. He seemed incredibly interested and mentioned that there was a position opening up at his son’s school if I was looking to start teaching again. Given the economy, money was getting a little tight, and I was more than willing to take every opportunity I could find. So when he came along with this, it just seemed perfect. I took it without a thought.”
“Alec, you said your wife… was?” Castiel prompted.
Alec looked down at his shoes. “Yes, my wife began to get a strange feeling about some of the business she was doing with McLeod and she began to dig a little bit. It wasn’t long before she found the truth and put two and two together. She pissed off the wrong people and she died in a car accident a month after they began working together.
“I have no doubt in my mind that it wasn’t an accident.
“About a month after that I was approached by Meg. She said that her boss had a proposition for me. I didn’t accept at first, of course. I immediately knew who she was working for. Then, one night I woke up to this horrible crash. I raced down the hall to my daughter’s room to see that Abby was gone. Just vanished. I looked for her. I went to the police, but nothing. Then I get a letter in the mail. It was from Crowley, who told me that if I didn’t do what he wanted then my daughter would join my wife.”
Castiel leaned forward and gripped Alec’s shoulder tightly. “How did you know it was from Crowley?”
Alec frowned. “He signed it.”
“What?” Sam asked surprised.
“He signed it,” Alec repeated. “There was nothing explicit in the letter, even my daughter being kidnapped wasn’t referred to specifically. They letter was laid out like a job offer and he signed it Fergus Roderic McLeod. One of the things my wife found was his alias: Crowley. I met with him and he gave me the details in private.”
“My God,” Sam whispered. “Crowley is Fergus McLeod.”
“How did we not know this?” Castiel shook his head.
“Guess he kept his secrets closely guarded,” Sam replied grimly.
“So basically,” Castiel said. “We have everything we need to get him off the street. Mr. Kruschev, would you be willing to testify?”
Alec shook his head. “No! If I do, he’ll kill my daughter. Look, I just told you all this so you’ll let me go, all right? If he finds out I talked, she’s dead.”
“You never presented us with any such stipulation, Mr. Kruschev,” Castiel said coolly and forced Alec to his feet.
“No! Wait, please, stop. I know where Dean is!”
That did get the two men to stop. Castiel shook Alec. “You do?”
“Yes! I do… Or I know how you can find him anyway… Look, I have a phone number, it should still work. Just please, let me go.”
“We can’t do that Alec,” Castiel said gently. “However, we can turn you over to Boston PD and have them put a good word in for you with the District Attorney. They can protect you.”
“What about my little girl?” Alec asked brokenly.
Sam shared a look with Castiel before he turned away and said, “We’ll find her.”
Castiel clenched his jaw at Sam’s words and led the bound man from the house. He wanted to be relieved, he really did, but nothing ever seemed to go this easily. It was all too perfect.
End Chapter
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