Under Siege, Part Three, Supernatural, NC-17

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Under Siege (Part Three)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, John, Balthazar (some mild Sam/Castiel)
Word Count: 4572
Rating: NC-17 (for theme)
Summary: Near the end of Season Six, after "The Man Who Would Be King"...Castiel has not been seen or heard from since his last conversation with Dean at Bobby's. Time marches on without him and Sam and Dean keep hunting. One night Sam wakes to sounds he can't place and Balthazar appears, leaving a very wounded, unresponsive & comatose Castiel in their care before he disappears. Thus begins a mystery that will stretch the already thin resources of the Winchester boys to their limits...and may break more than one of them before the end.

A/Ns & Warnings: This is a fic that ate my brain, continues to eat my brain. It is partially the fault of varkelton and the conversation begun at her house. Fair warning that the topic of that conversation was what situations either of us could conceivably actually slash Castiel with either of the boys....so while this has not yet gone to a slashy place, it very well may andso, it has begun inching toward the slashy place, though this part includes only very minor kissing....it may ultimately include Dean/Castiel, Sam/Castiel and quite possibly Dean/Castiel/Sam...consider yourself warned. As to warnings for this part? Much Castiel whumpage (including implied sexual assault, which it should be said is implied to include non-con bestiality of a sort). Mind fuckery. Implied and partially remembered violence.





Sam sorted through the provisions Bobby had left in the bags. There was enough to last them at least a few days, longer if they were careful. He took a bottle of water to Cas where he was sitting on the cot. "Here. You should drink some."

Castiel took the bottle wordlessly and Sam went back to sorting the granola and energy bars if only for something to do. He had to admit, he felt safer since Bobby had locked them in. Stronger, more himself.

Bobby had told Castiel that Lucifer was loose. It had made sense at the time. It made his dreams make sense. He did everything he could to avoid thinking about hell, the cage, the wall when he was awake…but in his dreams, it was as though it was cracking and things kept leaking out.

Eventually it would break and with it, Sam would tumble into the dark.

He shook his head. He had to stop thinking about it.

"Hungry?" He lifted a granola bar and tossed it to Castiel. At least focusing on Cas kept him occupied, gave him something else to focus on.

"Thank you." Cas said. "I am unaccustomed to needing to care for my vessel."

In the long hours they'd been locked in together, Castiel had given him a little information beyond his initial words about the mark on his head. Sam didn't have all the details, of course, probably wouldn't until Cas was more up to talking, but he had said that it locked him into the body.

Honestly, it had brought up thoughts Sam hadn't had in a while, about Jimmy and his family. He knew Jimmy had not been resident in that body in a long time, he had voluntarily given it up so that Castiel could continue his work, but somehow the idea that Castiel was trapped inside it was uncomfortable to Sam. It reminded him of the sacrifice.

When he'd had Lucifer inside of him, Sam had fought to regain control, but it was like being stuck in cement, trapped helplessly watching his body move without him. He wondered what it would be like to be there like that for years…or if it was the same for Jimmy when Castiel first took his body.

He shook himself out of the thought. He needed to stop. He needed to find something else to think about. "I should…you should let me check your wounds." Sam said finally, taking a long pull from his own bottle of water. "Change bandages. We don't want you getting infections."

He nodded to himself and didn't wait for Castiel to respond, just opened the med kit on the bench, pulling out clean bandages and ointment. Castiel hadn't moved when he turned back around. Sam tried to smile, but he knew it came out strained. He started with the bandages on Castiel's back, since the angel didn't have to take anything off for that. They never had gotten a shirt onto him for some reason.

He tried to be gentle, easing the tape from skin that was not nearly as mottled with color as it had been, the deep blacks easing into lighter purples and blues. The one on top, nearest the shoulder, looked more like it had been torn open by a claw, rather than a whip, but Sam couldn't be sure.

The bandage stuck a little as he pulled it away, the blood dried into it. Castiel hissed as he got it loose and set it aside. The wound was raw and angry looking, crusted over in places with dried blood.

"I need to clean this one." Sam said softly, going to get the bottle of peroxide he'd left on the work bench. "It might hurt."

It was going to hurt, there was no real help for that. Sam poured peroxide directly on the wound and Castiel jumped forward, pulling away from him. Sam let him, putting the bottle down and picking up some gauze. When Castiel had settled again, Sam wiped at the wound, cleaning off the last of the dirt and the dried blood.

It was oozing blood when he was done, but he was much more satisfied with the cleanliness and he put some of the antibiotic ointment on his finger. "Just a little more, Cas," he murmured before he carefully smeared the ointment over the wound. He laid fresh gauze over it and taped it down.

He moved down to the lower one that had been dirty when they first found him, but partially healed. It was a neater wound, likely caused by a whip of some kind. It cut across his lower back, over scars of older abuse.

A flash of pain, fleeting and sharp, crashed through him, the bite of hardened leather, the tear of flesh. Sam inhaled and pushed it away. It wasn't real. It wasn't his memory, just imagined torment.

"This one looks good." Sam said as he set the dirty bandage aside. It was closed up, the scab over it forming nicely. He got it re-bandaged and moved around to the front.

This was one of the ones Dean was worried about. Without getting Castiel into a hospital, they had no way of knowing how deep the damage went. Castiel lifted his arm as Sam bent his head to pick at the tape and begin peeling off the gauze.

The smell was the first thing to tell Sam that there was something wrong. The sickly sweet smell of decaying flesh rose up from the wound as Sam uncovered it. The edges of the still gaping wound were dark, nearly black and a greenish pus oozed from it. Sam pulled back, swallowing hard. The wound started up on Castiel's side, and curved down onto his stomach.

Sam paced away, gathering the peroxide again and moving back to the med kit. He was going to need to clean it out. His best bet was to thoroughly debride it, but he wasn’t sure he could manage that himself without knocking Castiel out.

But then again, knocking Castiel out would let him look at the wound on the angel's thigh without cause him any more discomfort.

Sam came back to the cot, squatting in front of him. "Okay, Castiel, I need to clean this out, but it isn't going to be easy and it's going to hurt. I can put the IV back in and give you another shot of stuff to make you sleep while I do it."

Castiel's face tightened and he looked away without answering. Sam sighed, understanding that at least. The drugs were heavy handed and probably made him feel helpless and weak. "Okay, I can give you something lighter, take the edge off the pain."

Castiel still didn't answer. Sam put a hand on his uninjured knee. "I know you don't like them, but I have to get that cleaned, or you are going to get very sick and die."

For a long time Castiel didn't move, and when he did it was to cover Sam's hand with his own. "It was a punishment." He didn't look up, kept his eyes on the cot beside him. "I was praying. Crowley heard me. At first he laughed. Then he demanded that I stop. Then he hit me. Over and over. When I continued, he used a dirty hook to tear me open…let his hell hounds eat what fell out."

Sam didn't know what to say to that, swallowing a lump that had risen to lodge in his throat.

Castiel's eyes lifted to Sam's. "I do not know why I prayed. I already knew God had abandoned me. But it pissed Crowley off, and so I could not stop." He lifted his hand from Sam's and wiped at the tears that had spilled from his eyes. "I will take your pills."

Sam nodded in relief and went to get them. He had a choice of a variety of things, but he chose the higher dose of percocet, bringing it back to Castiel. He took the pills and swallowed them with the last of his water and without prompting laid down on his side, pulling his arm up and out of the way.

Sam let the pills take affect and set up the supplies he would need, thinking again that maybe he should have been pre-med instead pre-law in those long ago days of Stanford.




It was hard to tell that it was ten o'clock in the morning, if all you had to go by was the darkness at the windows. So far all the horde of demons had managed to do was rattle the house a little bit, breaking one window that Dean had just finished boarding up.

He came back into the kitchen with a heavy sigh. "That should hold them for a little while. Any sign of anything?"

"Just more of the same." Bobby said, though his eyes were on John.

Dean had to admit, his father looked more like himself now that he was dressed. Bobby had found some of his father's old things in an old trunk and while the jeans were a little loose, the boots and jacket made him more real somehow.

The familiar surroundings had done a fair bit of help too for his memory. He put down the shotgun he'd been loading with rock salt and looked at Dean.

He'd been avoiding talking to him, because honestly, Dean didn't know what he was going to say, how in the hell he was going to explain to his father everything that had gone down since he'd died.

It was obvious though that his father had questions. "So, Dad…" Dean started, glancing at Bobby, who neatly took the hint and went to check salt lines and the like. "A lot has happened and…I'm not sure where to start."

"Why don't you start with that demon." John said, crossing his arms. "What did he mean when he said that Alistair had his way with you."

Okay then, right to the heart of it. Dean huffed, scratching at his head as he crossed to the sink. "Well, I…I was in hell. In the pit. On Alistair's rack." Dean said, not looking at his father. Not with the way the admission brought memory swirling into his brain…stomach spilling out over his legs and feet…bones snapping… He shook his head to clear it and focused on the moment. "It's a really long story, but I did it to save Sam."

"You…what?"

It wasn't angry exactly, but Dean felt the disappointment like a blade. "Look, the damn yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch got Sam killed. I needed him back. I needed to keep my promise, to keep him safe. So I did. I made a deal. I got Sam back. It was worth it." Dean pushed away the nagging voices in his head that laughed at that statement.

"How did you get out?" John asked, his voice dark and quiet.

Dean inhaled sharply. "Castiel." He cleared his throat. "I was pulled out by an angel." An angel who was currently locked up in the panic room under them, who had gone to hell to find his father. "Same one who came to get you when Crowley had you."

Dean exhaled and leaned over the sink to look out the window, even though all he could see was demon black.

"And Sam?"

That was a loaded question. Dean nodded. "Another long story. You were right about a lot, Dad. And he had…he did some things he ain't proud of, but he made it right in the end." The memory of Sam taking control of his body, of Sam jumping into the gaping hole filled his head. "And it cost him. In a way, it cost him more than you or I could ever understand."

His father snorted and Dean turned. "You make it sound like he had it worse than either of us, and I know what Alistair was capable of…I remember all too well."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, well…Alistair was only a demon. And I was only there forty years. You had…what? A hundred and twenty? Not saying it wasn't…what it was. But Sam defeated Lucifer, by going into hell with him…And he was down there more than a year. Locked in a cage with Lucifer and Michael, whose only entertainment was beating up each other and torturing the souls they dragged in there with them."

"Souls?"

Dean nodded again, suddenly restless, wanting out of this conversation. "Sam and Adam. Their vessels."

Dean hadn't thought much about Adam, had never asked Castiel what had happened to the youngest Winchester. A part of him didn't want to know.

"Adam?" There was a tremor in his father's voice. "How…"

Dean had forgotten somehow that John never knew they had found out. "Another long story. He and his mother were killed by ghouls. Fuckers nearly took us out. The angels resurrected Adam when I wouldn't consent to being Michael's meat suit for the apocalypse prom."

His father shook his head and sat down heavily. He held up a hand. "I think I'm dizzy."

Dean snorted. "I get that. At least you've only done the dying and resurrection thing twice now."

His father frowned at him. Of course, he wouldn't remember the first time. It had happened before his father had discovered the world of the supernatural. "How many times…"

Dean offered him a tight smile. "Me? Too many to count…there was this…thing with a Trickster who turned out to be an arch-angel in hiding….Sam, well…" Dean tried counting, but gave up after just a few moments. "Let's just say it's been a few times."

They were quiet for a minute. "And where is Sam?" John asked after a while.

"Bobby has a panic room, demon safe, and with a little extra work, protected from angels too. Both Castiel and Sam are down there until we figure out what to do."

And if he was being honest with himself, Dean didn't have a clue.




It had been quiet a long time. Sam assumed Castiel had fallen asleep after the painful process of cleaning and re-bandaging the worst of his wounds. Sam sat leaning against the cot, his back to the angel, wondering what was going on upstairs and how long it would be before Bobby or Dean came to fill them in.

There was a time he would have been pacing like a caged animal, but it would serve no purpose and at the moment, he felt peaceful, so he sat.

"I never set out to lie to you or your brother." Castiel said suddenly into the quiet.

Sam turned his head, surprised to find Castiel's face so close to his. "Cas, you don't—"

"I…thought…I did it to protect you, or to protect myself. I don’t know anymore." His voice is soft, still raspy. "I thought…I was doing the right thing."

Sam licked his lips. "And now?"

"Now I…I have been…humbled."

Sam looked away from the devastation on Castiel's face. "Cas…we've all…I mean…Dean and I both…we've done things we thought were right only to realize later that we'd been played."

"I prayed for a sign." Castiel whispered. "I prayed to be shown the way and I was given into the hands of Crowley. I was…put down."

Sam wanted to comfort the misery he could feel pouring off the angel. He turned his face again, but Castiel had inched closer and Sam's lips brushed Castiel's lightly when he moved. Castiel's eyes closed and he exhaled, the heat of his breath tickling Sam's lips.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Castiel shifted, bringing their mouths together. Sam froze, uncertain of his intent. Castiel breathed out, his eyes opening. He pulled back, turning his face away. “I am sorry.”

Sam reached a hand out, touching his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Castiel was flushed, his skin turning pink as he sat up, shaking his head. His back was to Sam then, his eyes on the door. “I am confused.”

Sam rose up on his knees, caressing over Castiel’s shoulder. “Hey, I said it’s okay.” He moved, sitting on the cot beside Castiel.

Cas looked at him, his expression something between lost and falling apart. “Why are you kind to me?”

Sam was startled by the question. “What?”

He stood, limping to the door. “I have hurt you. I have lied to you. I have called you an abomination. The trials you have gone through because of me, because of my brothers, you have every right to hate me.”

Sam inhaled. Castiel wasn’t wrong. Sam had every right to hate him and the rest of the angels. “I don’t hate you, Cas.” Sam said, standing.

“Why?” Castiel demanded.

Sam sighed, coming around the cot. Case was still flushed, though Sam wasn’t sure how much was embarrassment and how much was his rising anger. “Because….you…you’re…one of us.” Sam said in response. “You pulled my brother out of hell. You pulled me out.”

“And I was arrogant to try. I failed. And now you are afraid of your own dreams.”

Sam nodded, moving closer. “I’ve been afraid of my dreams a long time Cas. Ever since I dreamed of Jess dying in fire, trapped on the ceiling.” He was close enough now that Castiel backed up into the door. “What are you afraid of?”

“Sam.” Castiel looked spooked. “I should not…we can not…”

“Then why?” Sam asked, one finger rubbing his lips.

Castiel looked him the eye, then looked down. “I…do not know. I was confused.”

“By what?” Sam asked softly, taking away a little more of the space between them. It was obvious that Cas had meant something with the kiss, that he’d been expecting something.

The redness on Castiel’s face deepened. “It’s okay.” Sam whispered.

“When Dean…when he remembers what happened to him in hell and it pains him, he sometimes thinks of kissing you and the pain lessens.” Castiel whispered back, his voice dropping at the end to almost inaudible. Castiel couldn’t have known that Sam knew, that Dean had confessed in a drunken, drugged stupor one night, though he’d tried to take it back and conveniently had no memory of it in the morning.

Sam caught Castiel’s chin with one hand and turned his face up, stepping still closer, until their bodies were brushing. “Sometimes, when he’s dreaming, when the nightmares are the worst and I can’t wake him, I kiss him and whisper to him. I tell him to come back to me.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and when Sam licked his lips, Castiel mimicked the gesture. He’d never even told Dean that truth, and he’d never thought of Castiel as anything who would need the comfort of a kiss, but there…in that moment, Sam couldn’t deny the desire to ease his pain.

He breathed out and Castiel breathed in, drawing Sam to him. His lips were chapped and dry, and they parted easily when Sam’s tongue moved against them. Sam slipped his tongue into Castiel’s mouth, tasting him. Castiel stiffened at first, then slowly….very slowly, Sam could feel the tension drain and Castiel clung to him, even after Sam had ended the kiss.

Sam opened his mouth to ask if he was okay, but he heard the locks on the door behind Cas and pulled him away instead, just managing to clear away and step a pace back, though Sam kept a hand on the angel’s back to keep him from falling.

Dean looked at them with raised eyebrows. “Am I interrupting something?”

“I was unsteady on my feet.” Castiel said dryly, though his face was still red.

Dean stepped in and pulled the door shut. “I just wanted to check up on the two of you, see if you needed anything.”

“Other than some fresh air…”Sam said.

“We could all use that.” Dean responded. “We’re pretty well socked in for now. How is he?” Dean nodded toward Castiel.

“He is standing right here.” Cas replied for Sam. “And he is fine.”

“Right, which is why you were unsteady enough for Sam to be holding you up.” Dean shook his head and looked to Sam.

“I’m worried about the claw marks. The stomach wound is bad. The thigh is worse.”

“Anit-biotics?”

“Gave him what we have here, but it isn’t much.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, and how are you?”

Sam nodded too. “I’m okay. I won’t lie, up until Bobby put the angel sigil on the door, I was pretty shaky, but I’m better now.”

“Which means Crowley wasn’t lying to us.”

Castiel turned away at the mention of the name, limping to the work bench. “Crowley wants me.” Castiel said.

“Yeah well, Crowley can stuff it. I’m not giving you to him.” Dean tugged a hand through his hair. “You could have told me though.”

“Told you what?” Castiel asked.

“The reason you went down there in the first place.”

Castiel hung his head. “There was no point. I failed.”

“I guess you and I have a different definition of that word.” Dean said, making Castiel turn.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, looking between them.

“Castiel completed the Winchester trifecta, Sammy. He has now successfully pulled all three of us out of hell. Well, more or less successfully.”

Sam frowned at his brother, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“Dad is upstairs right now, grilling Bobby on what he missed.”

Sam felt the air leave his lungs as if he’d been gut punched. He staggered backward until he found the cot, and he sat, hard. “Dad? Dad is…”

“John Winchester is alive?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, you wanna tell me how? His memory is a little like swiss cheese.” Dean said.

Sam looked at Castiel, watching him go from disbelief to defensive. "Crowley wanted to kill you, both of you." Castiel said. "I forbid it. He sought another way to remove you from our path to Purgatory."

"But Dad got out." Sam said, remembering that very clearly. Their father got out of hell when they opened the devil's gate.

"Dad said that he…got lost." Dean provided, his eyes still on Castiel.

"Without guidance it can be difficult for souls to find their way." Castiel supplied. "Especially after…hell is a disorienting place."

"I remember." Dean snapped. "Get on with it."

"I heard from…a source, that John Winchester had been found, and that Crowley was holding him. I thought that if I freed him, I would bring Crowley's focus back where I wanted it." Castiel shivered.

"Purgatory." Dean wiped his mouth and paced a few steps and back. "I told you before it was a bad idea."

Castiel lifted his eyes to Dean's. "Yes, you did. I thought…I thought it was the only way. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Yeah, I've heard that before." Dean said.

Sam stood, intercepting his brother's pacing. "That's a little hypocritical coming from either one of us, Dean."

Dean stopped, looking up at Sam as if to argue before conceding the point. "Okay, I'll give you that one." He looked back at Cas. "So, what happened?"

Castiel licked his lips and crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. "I located where Crowley was keeping him, but as with Sam, I thought more highly of my skills than I should. I did not anticipate that Crowley had laid a trap for me."

"So…Dad was…bait?" Sam asked.

"I had gone to take your father's soul home to heaven, where he could be reunited with your mother to spend eternity in bliss. I was discovered and ambushed. I lost my grip on your father and was yanked back down. I failed."

"Except for how Dad suddenly found himself topside, naked and sporting some serious amnesia."

Dean went back to pacing, but Sam was watching Castiel slowly withdraw again. He crossed to the angel, touching his hand, but Castiel pulled away.

"Let me go." Castiel said, pushing past Sam.

"What?" Sam reached for him, but Castiel grabbed Dean and shoved him toward the door.

"Let me out and I will leave."

Sam pulled him back. "You're being ridiculous."

"Crowley's out there." Dean growled at him. "He's got us surrounded. No one leaves."

"If I go, he will leave you alone. You can be free of this."

Dean snorted and shook his head. "Right, because it's that easy. Crowley wants you for a reason, Cas. You are not going out there."

Castiel turned away from Dean, leaning into Sam. "Please, let me put this right." Castiel whispered. Sam shook his head, but drew Castiel closer.

"No, I think Dean is right." Sam glared at his brother over Castiel's shoulder. "You need to stay here, where we can keep you safe."

Castiel sort of laughed, an odd sound that seemed more of a bark.

"Crowley wants Castiel because he thinks Castiel is the key to Purgatory."

They all turned to find the door to the panic room open and a rather rough looking Balthazar on the other side beside Bobby.

"Well, it's about fucking time." Dean said loudly, making Castiel jump.

"I would have come sooner if I could." Balthazar responded quietly. "And I can't stay long. I've got…I'm being followed."

Sam tried to move closer, but Castiel wasn't budging and it sort of kept him from moving. "The basics of the situation is this, Raphael figured out a way to open the cage and let Michael and Lucifer out. In return, Michael killed Raphael. Everything is chaos. Lucifer is looking for Sam. Crowley is running from Lucifer, and looking for Castiel."

Balthazar looked like he was ready to pass out. "He needs into Purgatory if he stands a chance of going toe to toe with Lucifer." He waved his hand at Dean. You need to lead this party out of here. You're sitting ducks."

"You wanna clear us a path?" Dean asked with a snort. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're kind of under siege."

"It's only going to get worse. As soon as Lucifer finds himself a ride, what you've got now will look like a picnic at the beach."

"This just gets better and better." Dean growled.

Balthazar offered a weary smile. "I did bring you a spot of good news." He cracked his neck and reached into the very tattered remains of his coat. He withdrew a sword, the same quicksilver shine as the blade he'd seen Castiel wield, only longer, the end barbed.

Balthazar handed the blade to Bobby. "See if you can't stick it to Lucifer this time, eh boys?"

There was an odd popping sound, and the familiar rustling of unseen wings, and Balthazar was gone.

"I thought only an angel can kill an angel." Bobby said.

"We still have an angel." Dean replied, gesturing at Castiel who still hadn't moved.

"I am unclean." Castiel whispered, though Sam was the only one who heard it.

"Dean! You better get up here!"

Sam watched Dean's eyes close, his mouth tighten. His brother was strung pretty tight, and stuck down here, Sam was no help to him. Dean held his hand out the door to Bobby, who gave him the sword, then Dean turned to Sam, holding it out to him.

"You keep him here. I'll go see what new hell we have to deal with."

The door closed behind him and Castiel sank slowly to the floor, leaving Sam standing there, staring at the door with a sword fit for killing archangels in his hand.