The Crimson Prince: part II
Castiel came to, face first against the hard wood of one of the lower decks. The smell of stale brine had his head spinning. When he tried to sit up, he felt nauseous, not that it mattered; he was not moving far with his hands bound behind his back.
“James?” A soft voice whispered from somewhere behind him.
“Meghan?” Castiel used his shoulder and his feet to push himself up the hull so he could bring himself to a sitting position. His head throbbed even more with the shift but there was not much he could do about it.
A sliver of panic cut through him and he swallowed, his throat parched as he let his eyes adjust to the dark of the room before he could make out the figure of his fiancé just across from him.
“Are you alright?” Castiel asked. He refused to let his brain even contemplate what had happened whilst he had been unconscious.
“I am alright, now that you are awake. But they tore my dress,” Meg informed him with an angry huff.
Castiel frowned and looked around the room. It looked like it was some kind of below deck storeroom or something. There were barrels piled by the far wall and a few dozen crates under an old canvas sail.
“Did they touch you?” Castiel asked, more than a little apprehensive.
“They manhandled me, to get me down here. If that is what you mean,” Meg bit angrily at him.
The door opened and the tall pirate entered. Now that Castiel was half lying on the floor, the pirate really did seem to loom over him. He was still wearing the same blood red vest and the tan coloured breeches.
The man had long shaggy hair that hung across his eyes. A brush of his hand across his brow tucked the unruly fringe behind an ear to reveal a pair of green eyes.
“Oh good, you are awake.” The giant pirate stated with a grin that dimpled his cheeks.
“What do you want, pirate?” Castiel asked with the most defiant voice he could muster considering he felt like he had swallowed sand.
The pirate’s grin faded to a scowl and he shook his head causing his hair to fall back across his eyes as he did so.
“The name is Sam Winchester, Mr. Novak, unless you would like me to call you prisoner.”
Castiel scowled at the man. “It is what we are, is it not? You are a pirate and we are your prisoners.”
“Technically, you are the captain’s prisoners, not mine,” Sam said with a shrug.
“What are you planning on doing with us?” Castiel asked, licking his parched lips apprehensively. He had heard stories of pirates taking prisoners and very few of them ended well. He had to figure out how to get Meghan to safety.
“Well, you are going to have to talk to the captain if you want specifics. But we are using you two as bait to get to Alistair,” Sam told him while he hoisted himself up to sit on a barrel by the wall. “The crew voted to send him body parts to entice him a little more. But apparently the captain does not want to use the same dirty tactics as Carter.”
“Where is the captain?” Castiel asked, wondering if he could get an audience with the man. Perhaps get some food and better lodgings if they had to be here for a while.
“The captain is in his cabin. He has requested your presence in his cabin for dinner,” Sam said with a grin.
“You can tell him I would never dine with such a cutthroat,” Meg spat at the pirate.
Sam laughed. “The invitation is for the swordsman. Not you.”
Castiel frowned and wondered why on earth the captain would invite him and not Meghan to dinner. It was not like he had been part of the pirates’ plan. Not since they were looking for Carter’s nephew.
“You have got to be joking,” Meghan exclaimed, shock clear in her voice.
“What if I refuse the invitation?” Castiel asked. He doubted that refusing would make a difference. He would not put it past the pirates to just force him to do what they wanted. But Castiel hoped that the question would delay Sam enough that he could come up with some kind of plan.
Sam grinned broadly as he pulled a dagger from his belt. Hopping down off the barrel, Sam approached Castiel with the dagger in front of him.
“You would not dare! You stay away from him!” Meg screamed and kicked out, but Sam was nowhere near close enough for her to strike him.
The approaching threat made Castiel’s heart race. His eyes going wide and his head spun but he could not do anything before Sam was facing him. The pirate twisted his fist in Castiel’s shirt front and jerked him up onto his feet. Castiel swayed for a moment before he managed to get his legs to hold him up. Then Sam pulled him from the room.
“If you are lucky, Miss Carter, the captain might let your fiancé bring back some of the food for you,” Sam smirked before he pulled the door shut behind them.
Castiel stood in the captain’s cabin. There was nothing decidedly pirate about it. There was no excessive amount of red, which was something that he had kind of expected. Of course, it was certainly decorated with the most incredible finery. Even the cushions on the couch seemed to be made of brocaded silk.
Sam had untied Castiel’s wrists and just opened the door for him, allowing him to walk in unannounced. Then Sam had closed the door and left. So Castiel was left to examine the room.
The table was set for two but there was no food. Castiel glanced around the room once more before he pocketed one of the meat knives from the table. It looked like it was silverware but Castiel was more interested in using it to defend himself.
A door to the left of the room opened and Castiel spun around, wide-eyed with surprise as the captain entered the room. The man was wearing nothing but a pair of leather breeches and running a towel through his damp hair.
Castiel bit his bottom lip as he found himself standing there staring. Apparently the scar above the captain’s eye was not the only scar that he bore. The man was covered in them. The long white lines and shapes were easily visible against the man’s tanned skin.
The pirate looked up then, realizing that Castiel was in the room. Castiel looked away but not before he saw the surprise in the man’s eyes change to embarrassment at the fact that Castiel was looking at his scars.
“You are earlier than I was expecting,” the pirate said as he pulled the towel against his chest. It seemed like such a strange gesture of modesty to Castiel that it made him turn around.
There was a large ornate mirror on the wall he was facing and Castiel’s eyes were drawn to the reflection he could see in it. He watched as the pirate turned his back and walked toward a large bureau and pulled open the top drawer.
Across the pirate’s back Castiel could clearly make out the marks of the lash. He bit his bottom lip as he noticed how some of them curled up over the man’s shoulders and around his sides. He could even see where they went lower disappearing below the band of the captain’s breeches.
The captain pulled a blood red shirt out of the draw and slipped it on, finally covering the marks. He turned around and for a moment, their eyes met in the mirror. The captain seemed to assess him with that look and then he smiled at him. Castiel felt a shiver crawl down his spine at the way the captain looked at him and he averted his eyes from the mirror.
“I am so glad you decided to join me,” The Crimson Prince said with a smile. He gestured toward the table offering for Castiel to sit as he moved closer.
“I was not given the option of refusing,” Castiel snapped at him. His throat was still dry and the words caught in his throat. He took a breath and tried again. “What happened to the Eryines?”
“Last I saw she was on fire. If her crew managed to put it out, they might be able to get her to Hispaniola.” The captain stood and walked to a bureau that held a number of different bottles and containers. He retrieved one of them and turned back to hold it out for Castiel. “Here, it is only rum.”
Castiel did not trust the pirate at all. From what he had heard of the tales of the Crimson Prince, the man probably ordered a broadside below the waterline to sink the ship. The rum he was offering was probably poisoned. Castiel shook his head and scowled.
“Suit yourself,” The Crimson Prince said as he pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth. He spat the cork into his hand, and then took a long drink from the bottle. “But we ran out of clean water yesterday. If you are thirsty, your choice is either the rum or sea water.”
Castiel screwed up his face in disgust. Why was this pirate being nice to him? All pirates were evil cutthroats who killed for sport; this pirate in particular. He was known to kill women and children. He had killed Castiel’s best friend.
The Crimson Prince had been the scourge of the Caribbean for going on more than twenty years. Castiel was happy to do whatever it took to bring his reign of terror to an end. There was a small stool on the floor by Castiel’s feet and an idea started to formulate into a plan inside his head.
“Why did you invite me to your cabin? Is it so your men can debouch Miss Carter while I am at your mercy?” Castiel asked. He needed to get the jump on the pirate and his best chance of that was to distract him.
The Crimson Prince looked at him. A steely look that Castiel could not read before the pirate sighed and turned back toward the cupboard.
“Is that really what you think of me?” The Captain asked, his eyes going to the same mirror that Castiel had just watched him in.
“I think you are a filthy murdering pirate!” Castiel stated as he seized the opportunity of a turned back. He scooped up the small stool raising it over his head as he rushed at the pirate.
The Crimson Prince turned raising his right arm so that it took the brunt of the blow from the stool instead of his head. Castiel kept rushing headlong, slamming the pirate backwards into the cupboard as they grappled at each other.
The bureau tilted under their combined weight although it did not topple. A number of the glass jars and bottles falling from it and shattering on the floor around them as they both struggled for the upper hand.
Castiel raised the knife, wielding it like a dagger and the captain caught his wrist keeping him from plunging it into his black heart. Castiel saw blood though; he had definitely managed to cut the fiend. But before he could force it deeper, a knee connected with Castiel’s groin and it made him stumble.
Castiel dragged the pirate with him. The two of them fell to the floor as Castiel kept his grip on both the knife and the pirate. They rolled in the broken glass and Castiel growled as a piece of glass stuck into his arm.
It was hard to throw a decent punch with the two of them locked this close together but Castiel was not willing to let the pirate go. The pirate did the same, keeping Castiel close so that he could not get a decent swing with the fist of his free hand.
“Is that the best you can do?” The pirate gasped out as they rolled again. Castiel had him pinned to the floor. He managed to get both hands on the knife as he held it above the pirate’s chest.
“Fuck you! I will kill you, you son of a bitch!” Castiel spat out at the pirate. He leaned all of his weight onto the knife as the tip of it scraped at the pirate’s chest. The pirate had both his hands around Castiel’s wrists in an attempt to stop him.
The captain bucked underneath him and it was enough to throw Castiel over balance and he freed one hand from the knife to place it on the floor to stop from falling forward over the pirate’s head as the pirate tried to throw him off.
The captain reached out his hand, fingers closing on one of the bottles from the top of the Bureau and he smashed it against Castiel’s face. The shattered glass sliced across his face and Castiel fell back, huddled in the corner as he brought his hand up to his bloody face.
Somehow, the pirate had managed to get the knife from him and they both sat crumpled on the floor facing each other. Castiel frowned from behind the hand he held to the cut across the bridge of his nose as the pirate just grinned stupidly at him.
“You okay, Cas?” The pirate asked as he inspected a cut on his own arm.
Castiel frowned as confusion rippled through his brain. The pirate had just called him Cas. No one called him that. The only one who ever had was dead. It took him a moment before fear and surprise replaced the confusion.
“Dean?” Castiel asked in a hollow whisper.
The grin on the pirate’s face grew even bigger and he held out his hand. Castiel frowned and looked closer lowering his own hand from his nose so he could see. There across the pirate’s palm at the base his thumb was a small white sliver of scar. It was the cut that Castiel had wrapped in his own handkerchief all those years ago.
Castiel looked at him. Closer this time and now he found himself seeing less of the evil murderous pirate, but the actual man. He could see it in the man’s eyes. It was Dean. It was his best friend who he had though dead all these long years.
“You… You are alive? But …. How? What happened? I got a letter to say you were dead.” Castiel had spent the last fourteen years thinking he was dead. Thinking and planning his revenge against the pirate that had done it.
“It’s a long story, Cas. How about we have some rum first?” Dean offered. Castiel had to agree. If he ever needed a drink, now would be the time.
When Dean had discovered that Castiel had been shipped off to England by his father, he could feel his heart breaking. Castiel was his closest and only real friend. They were more than brothers. Mr. Novak, Senior had declined to even let Castiel say goodbye to him.
It took him a year before he could try and track Castiel down though. His mother had become sick and he was stuck working their small farm and caring for her.
When she died Dean had no one left in the world but Castiel. So, he had packed up his few meager possessions and traveled down to Jamestown. He had lived on the street there for a month while he waited for a ship that would take him to England. Eventually though, he managed to sign onto the HMS Hanover as a cabin boy.
It was fun at first. The hard work leaving him tired but happy to know he was on a ship that was headed for England and he would be able to find Castiel.
It was on the third day that his happiness was shattered. Dean had just hoisted a third bucket of sea water up from the ocean and was carrying it back across to where he was busy swabbing the deck when he bumped into the captain.
The collision caused the sea water in the bucket to splash and spill onto the captain’s uniform. Dean apologized profusely, but the captain just smiled at him and ordered him to be doused.
Dean had no idea exactly what that was. But soon discovered it meant to have his arms tied above his head and then several buckets of freezing cold sea water was poured down his sleeves.
He had expected to be let free once it was over, but they left him there for two hours in the cold sea breeze. He was so cold he could not even shiver any more by the time the Boatswain came and untied him. Dean was so numb that he could not stand. The man just left him where he fell.
It just got worse after that. Dean apparently could not do a single thing right and every time the punishments got worse and worse. It was not like he was breaking that many rules. Just more like the captain hated him and would punish him for the simplest of mistakes, like not shining the brass fittings bright enough. Any excuse would do if it meant the captain could watch Dean being tortured.
They even forced Dean to braid the rope to make his own cat of nine tails that they could use on him. When they did not use it on him as soon as he had finished Dean almost cried with relief, even though he had not cried since his mother died.
They did use it on him eventually though.
The ship was about four weeks out of Jamestown. Dean was not entirely certain as sometimes the days bled into one another. He had spent most of the day hauling cannon shot from one end of the deck to the other. Just another pointless task they gave him to make him suffer.
He was so tired that when the captain stepped in his path, Dean did not see him until he had knocked the older man down. Bale, the boatswain, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.
“What do you think you are doing boy? Assaulting an officer is a floggable offence.” Bale snarled at him. Dean looked at the captain half hoping the man would lower the punishment. But instead the captain just smiled that same smile that Dean had come to be afraid of.
Bale tied him to a cannon. Wrenching at Dean’s wrists till he was practically on tiptoes and bent forward over it. Dean had seen other men flogged and he knew he was going to be struck twelve times.
When his shirt was ripped open Dean closed his eyes. He trembled with fear and trepidation at the long painful anticipation as he waited for impact of the first blow.
It felt like knives slicing across his back and Dean shifted, but was unable to arch away from the sting of the blow because of the cannon. He did not need a second blow to know he was going to die before he received all twelve.
The second blow made him bite his own tongue and tears began to well in the corner of his eyes as he panted through the burn and sting.
Dean’s tears began to flow with a sob at the impact of the third blow. Every time Dean breathed in it made the cuts on his back burn like acid.
“Please…no more.” Dean whimpered. He knew they would not listen but he was certain that he would die here on the ship before he could reach England and rescue Castiel. He would be the one to break their promise to look out for each other.
Dean clenched his teeth and waited for the next impact but it never came. Instead the ship’s doctor looked at him and put salt in the wound. It made Dean scream and he must have passed out. When Dean woke, it was night and he was still tied across the cannon.
The captain was there watching him with that same eerie smile. Dean just stared back at him wondering what it was the man was going to do. After a while the captain seemed to come to a decision. He stood and approached Dean standing in front of him so close that Dean had to twist painfully to look up at his face.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you cry boy?” The captain said, his fingers brushing through Dean’s hair. “I was beginning to think that you did not know how.”
The fingers tightened in his hair till it was painful and Dean gasped. The captain’s hand cupped his cheek as his thumb traced over Dean’s lips. “Too beautiful a thing to let go to waste on kissing the gunner’s daughter.”
Dean looked horrified as the captain began untying his breeches. He squirmed and tried to get away but he was tied to tightly. He clenched his teeth and tried to stop it from happening but the captain just dragged his fingers over Dean’s back making the boy scream.
Dean had actually made it to England but the captain had kept him tied in his cabin. He had struggled and tried to break free, screamed until he was hoarse for hope someone on the wharf would hear him and come to his aid. But nobody came. Dean felt it like a crushing blow, the fact he was so close to St Mary’s and Castiel but he was trapped in the captain’s cabin.
A week later when the ship set sail for the Caribbean a part of Dean died. Along with his hopes of ever being free of this nightmare or seeing Castiel again.
The captain was supposed to help stop piracy in the Spanish Main. Instead he made deals with the pirates, giving them free reign in return for a percentage. The only pirate that would not deal with the man was The Crimson Prince.
One day Dean had managed to get free of the captain. But he was still stuck on the ship out at sea. In his desperation he had jumped overboard and swam for all that he was worth.
There had been no land in sight but Sam had been out fishing and found Dean half dead floating in the water. If Sam had not fished him out and brought him back to shore then Dean would have died that day.
The two men sit at the table together as Dean glossed over most of the details of what had actually happened to him on the HMS Hanover. He left out the things the captain had done entirely. While they talked, they shared a meal of stale tack, biscuits and cheese
“Sorry about the food. We were unable to take on sufficient supplies at our last port.” Dean apologized. Castiel shook his head, the tack was far less stale than the stuff they had been eating on the merchant vessel and he did not have to cut mold off the cheese.
It seemed almost strange to Castiel that here they were sitting, sharing a meal after believing each other to be dead after so many years. Castiel found it surprising how easily they slid into a familiarity with each other even though moments before Castiel had been trying to kill Dean.
When they had finished eating, Dean took Castiel out onto the deck and started showing him his ship. It was quite impressive.
“The stories about her do her little justice,” Dean informed him and Castiel wondered how that was even possible since he had heard that the ship could do practically everything except fly.
“She has a hull speed of almost 15 knots but in a good head wind, we can go faster than that.” Dean boasted. Castiel did the math of it in his head and he was duly impressed.
“Come on. Cas I will introduce you to the crew.” Dean offered with a smile. Castiel could not help but smile in return as he followed Dean up to the quarterdeck. A group of the pirates stood talking with an old seadog who stood with his hand on the tiller.
“You have met Sam.” Dean says pointing to the tall pirate that had collected him from the hold.
“Nice to meet you,” Castiel said as Sam stood up close his full height. It was even more impressive. Sam held out his hand with a dimpled grin.
“Nice to finally meet you and discover that you are not the figment of my brother’s imagination I was lead to believe you were.” Sam stated as Castiel shook his hand.
“Brother?” Castiel asked surprised, glancing at Dean for a second.
“Sam’s father was like a father to me. So we consider each other brothers.” Dean explained with a nod.
Next Dean introduced him to Jo, the young lad that Castiel had shoved. Castiel held out his hand and the lad smiled at him and then punched him in the face.
“That is for shoving me,” Jo informed him. “I owed you.”
“That is enough, Jo. Castiel is my friend and I will have him treated as such,” Dean warned.
“Fine, we are even now anyway,” Jo said with a shrug. The young pirate looked at Castiel with a smirk and held out his hand.
Castiel rubbed at his jaw and then shook Jo’s hand. He certainly hoped he had not offended any more of Dean’s crew.
“Jo, take some food and drink down to Miss Carter,” Dean requested, his arms across his chest in an irritated gesture.
“Why do I have to? Why not make Ash do it?” Jo huffed.
It was then that Castiel realized that Jo was not a lad at all but a woman dressed as one. She put her hand on her hip and pouted.
“It will teach you for punching Castiel,” Sam told her with a shake of his head. Obviously, she was not going to get any sympathy from her shipmates.
“Fine,” Jo conceded and walked away, shaking her head as she does.
“Jo is a woman?” Castiel whispered, leaning closer to Dean as he did, so that the others would not hear him.
“You noticed, huh?” Dean smirked. He clapped his hand on the shoulder of an older man, who sat whittling a small piece of wood. The man reminded Castiel of an old sea chest; weathered, dark lacquered and able to stand up to a beating. “This is my navigator, Mister Rufus Turner.”
The man stuck his knife in his pocket and held out his hand. “No hard feelings about the bump on the head?” he asked.
Castiel took the man’s hand, his other going to the bump that he could still feel on the back of his head. It hurt but no more than any of the other cuts and bumps he had.
“Uh, sure.” Castiel agreed with a shake of his head.
Dean did not wait for Rufus to say more instead he grabbed Castiel by the arm and dragged him over to where the old sea dog was steering the ship.
“This is the Master at Arms, Mister Singer.” Dean informed him, somewhat proudly. The man was older like Rufus, and you could see that he had endured many a voyage. He wore a tricorner hat and a roughly trimmed beard.
“Bobby, this is Castiel.” Dean informed the man. “Be nice.” He added before turning and walking across the deck to where another pirate was re-securing some of the rigging. Mr. Singer kept his hands on the wheel and nodded.
“You can call me Bobby, boy.” Mr. Singer informed him in a gruff voice. “But if you hurt that boy there, I will have your guts for garters.” Bobby added with a nod in Dean’s direction.
Castiel frowned glancing over at Dean before he looked back at Bobby. “No sir.” Castiel said surprised before adding. “Uh Bobby, I would not.”
Feeling a little awkward, Castiel made his way over to where Dean was discussing something with the pirate.
“I know the perfect place to resupply. It will only take an extra day or two,” one of the young pirates suggested.
“Last time you knew the perfect place. We ran aground and were stuck there for two weeks.” Dean shook his head and laughed.
“Cas, this is Ash.” Dean said, introducing him to the man. Ash wore a kerchief tied over his head and the sleeves had been ripped off his shirt. “He is the ship’s … poisoner.” He added with a chuckle.
“Hey! I will have you know that I am a good cook.” Ash countered with a scowl. “You only got sick that one time.”
Dean laughed and signaled for Castiel to follow him. Castiel nodded his greeting to Ash before following Dean down to the main deck. He stopped and looked up when Dean pointed up at the main mast.
“Up in the crow’s nest that is Adam.” Dean said with a grin. He looked up and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell, “Ahoy! Adam! Say hello to my friend Cas.”
Sure enough, Castiel could see someone in the crow’s nest. It was kind of awkward to make him out clearly. With the sun high in the sky, it looked like Adam was made of light.
“Ahoy, Cas! Glad to have you aboard!” The man yelled down to him. Castiel waved up at Adam before looking at Dean with a confused look. He could not really see for a damn what the man looked like.
There were so many people and faces that by the time Dean had introduced him to most of the hundred-strong crew, Castiel was having difficulty remembering everyone’s names. He was kind of impressed that Dean managed to as well.
“Come with me, I want to show you something,” Dean said reaching out and taking Cas’ hand. He led him down through the hatch to the gun deck, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to point the length of the deck. A smile stretched across his cheeks as he showed off his girl. Sam’s father had given her to him when he died and Dean had been the proud captain ever since.
There were lamps every so many feet along the middle line of the deck, but with all of the hatches closed, they did little to illuminate the darkness. Castiel peers into the shadows and he can make out a few of the cannons.
“This ship used to be an East Indiaman and it had berths for passengers and officers; even a cabin for a surgeon. Which is laughable because the East India Company never hired real surgeons,” Dean began explaining. Castiel just watched him, enjoying the way his eyes were filled with such affection for the ship.
When John captured the ship, he stripped it down to make more room for guns and, God bless him, more treasure,” Dean said with a grin, patting the wooden beam overhead. He led Castiel over to the nearest cannon.
“Beautiful, are they not?” Dean asked as he ran his hand across the metal cannon. He did not wait for Castiel to agree with him. “They are twenty-four pounders. They could shoot 24 pounds of lead over a distance of 1000 yards and rip a hole in a hull bigger than a man.”
“Twenty to a side, Cas,” Dean informed him, gesturing to both sides of the hull. “They do not make ships like this anymore…. Want to see something neat?”
Dean was almost childlike in his affection toward the cannons, just like he was childlike in his affection toward the ship. Castiel found himself feeling grateful for it and the fact that Dean was sharing this with him.
“Oh, I am impressed,” Castiel answered, nodding. He did not know much about cannons but if Dean said they were impressive then Castiel had no reason not to believe him. If the ship was one of a kind to Dean then it was one of a kind to Castiel as well.
“Show me,” Castiel said, wondering what else Dean would show him. Dean’s happy grin grew even wider from his agreement.
Dean tugged on Castiel’s hand and led him up to the gun hatch, propping it open and leaning out the hole. He glanced back over his shoulder and smirked at Castiel. “Count the hatches.”
Castiel stepped closer and Dean moved aside so that Castiel could lean out of the hole with him and count the hatches on the outside. Castiel leaned out and looked along both sides of the ship, counting the hatches before he turned back to Dean. “32 hatches, what does that mean?”
Dean grinned and shifted placing an arm on either side of Castiel as he moved closer. So close that when he spoke his lips brushed against Castiel’s ear with each word.
“The ship only has twenty hatches to a side but it is painted so it looks like she has thirty two.” Castiel leaned back to meet Dean’s gaze with a confused frown.
“It means we look meaner than we actually are,” Dean explains as he moved back inside. “Your captain was not the first person to surrender without putting up a fight just from the fear my ship strikes into the hearts of sailors.”
The two men moved back toward the steps out to the main deck. “I do not think you are as mean as they say,” Castiel offered as he leaned against one of the support beams.
Dean smiled his eyes sparkling as he leaned in closer to Castiel. “You have no idea how much I missed you Cas,” Dean said as he brushed his lips against Castiel’s.
It took a moment for his brain to catch up, but Castiel lowered his head and turned away slightly. “What are you going to do with Meghan?” Castiel asked softly in what was almost a whisper.
Dean leaned back, his expression stern and Castiel was not sure what to make of it. “I doubt it will mean anything but I give my word she will come to no harm,” Dean promised before turning away from Castiel.
It was still hard to see Dean as the same evil pirate that slaughtered women and children. But Castiel figured that the stories had to have come from somewhere. Just because they were friends as children did not mean that Dean had not changed.
“Jo?” Dean called out when she emerged from the deck below obviously having finished giving food to Meghan.
“You called, Captain?” Jo asked a look of concern crossing her face when she came close enough to see Dean in the darkness.
“Tie the prisoner and put him back in with his fiancé.” Dean ordered. He glanced at Castiel and then turned his back and walked away.
“Aye, Aye,” Jo replied at the order, although she still seemed a little confused as she watched his back disappear up the stairs. “Come on,” Jo said before she led Castiel back to the little room below.
Castiel was woken by the loud clatter of the anchor chain as it rattled against the hull. It meant the ship had reached a port and dropped anchor. Castiel doubted they were in Port Royal. He had spent the last three days in the hold with Meghan. The only faces he saw were Sam or Jo when they brought them food.
It made Castiel wonder if Dean was still angry with him. Or if perhaps Dean just did not want Meghan thinking that they knew each other or that Castiel was getting favorable treatment.
Sam and Jo had not really said anything to him either. The first time Jo brought them food after the incident on the gun deck, she had just dropped the plate onto the floor and walked out of the room.
Castiel had to wait almost two hours after the anchor was dropped before he could find out where they were or what was going on.
The door opened and Sam stood there, his arms across his chest. “On your feet. Captain is taking you two ashore,” Sam informed them before he dragged them to their feet, leaving their hands tied.
“Where are you taking us?” Meg demanded, refusing to let Sam drag her out of the room.
Sam ignored her. He merely picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He glared at Castiel and Castiel just turned and walked since he knew the way. He doubted that Dean would give the order for his men to hurt them but he was not going to fight and risk it either.
They were lowered down to a cock boat that already had Bobby and a few of the other men who Castiel could not recall the name of. Meg kicked and screamed and fussed until one of the men threatened her with a knife.
Castiel was not sure if Meghan stilled because she was actually afraid of the knife or because she needed all of her energy to glare that evilly at the pirate. He sat next to her as Sam lowered himself to the boat and then Dean joined them.
Dean sat at the bow of the boat his back to everyone else. Castiel could not help but keep his eyes on him. He found himself hoping that Dean would look at him at least but Dean did not take his eyes of the shore line in front of them.
Sam and Bobby sat side by side at the oars directly in front of Castiel and Meg. Sam gave Castiel the similar treatment, looking anywhere but at him as he rowed. Bobby on the other hand just stared daggers at Castiel until Castiel had to lower his head and look at the bottom of the boat.
They stopped rowing once the boat reached the shallows. A few of the men jumped out and pulled the vessel toward the sand. Sam scooped Meg up out of the boat and carried her while Castiel followed behind.
Once the boat was emptied, the men beached it and dug the anchor into the sand to ensure it would not drift away on the tide.
Dean scanned the tree line from his point on the beach and a few of the men spread out taking up look out positions. Castiel felt that it was not a very safe place but Dean seemed to know what he was doing.
“You are late,” a man in a sleek well-tailored suit commented as he stepped out of hiding in the line of trees.
“Crowley,” Dean stated with a scowl. “That would be because your information was wrong.” Castiel realized that this is the man who had told Dean that the governor’s nephew was coming to visit.
“How did he know?” Castiel asked quietly as he looked at Sam. He hoped that Sam would explain that much at least.
Sam leaned close and whispered to Castiel, “He is screwing Alistair’s wife.”
Crowley frowned and looked at Castiel and Meg. “Who is the skirt?” Crowley asked after scrutinizing Meg for a moment.
“Turns out, she is Alistair’s nephew that you told us about. She’s the one coming to live with her uncle,” Dean answered.
“You are not funny, Winchester,” Crowley stated, a look of annoyance crossing his face.
“It is no joke Crowley. Miss Carter here is coming to Jamaica with her fiancé, who is going to become captain of the fleet,” Dean explained even though Crowley seemed to still be having trouble believing him.
Dean and Crowley moved away a distance and began talking. Castiel could not hear what was being said so instead he turned back to Sam. “How do they know each other?”
Sam shrugged. “He used to be a sawbones for the fleet. Dean got hurt in a brawl and Dad took him to see him.”
“So Dean trusts him?” Castiel asked.
Sam laughed. “Dean does not trust anyone. But if you give Crowley a big enough cut then he is good for the information usually.”
“They are on the beach!” a cry came from the tree line, followed by the sound of a gunshot. The pirate holding Meghan gurgled and dropped to his knee’s as blood began staining his dirty shirt.
All hell broke loose after that. Bluecoats charged from the tree line firing at the pirates.
“Run!” Sam screamed from beside Castiel and Castiel grabbed hold of Meghan’s hand and ran with her up along the beach; the sound of shouts and gunfire growing louder behind them.
As Castiel reached the tree line Meghan stopped him, pulling at his hand and almost making him lose his footing.
“They are here to rescue us, James!” She yelled. Castiel blinked at her then jumped as a stray shot tore through the tree beside their heads.
Castiel grabbed her and pulled her down to the ground, hiding in the underbrush until the fight was over. Only he could not be sure if the fear that made his heart pound was for Meghan or for Dean.
more booty this way