ℭ𝔞𝔰ƚ𝔦𝔢𝔩 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foolintherain) wrote2021-06-20 01:58 pm
foolintherain) wrote2021-06-20 01:58 pm
join me in the slave au dumpster
[ They were told, all of them, that Dean Winchester could be found at an auto salvage shop in South Dakota, but he isn't there. A whole network of people are scouring the United States for one man, but it's Castiel who finds him. Dean's car, a 1967 Chevy Impala is parked in front of a gas station in Pontiac, Illinois, and Castiel parks his Lincoln Continental behind it.
This is the only gas station for miles. It's a shack on the main highway, surrounded by thick woods. It's ideal, Castiel thinks. This meeting was planned. He was meant to find Dean here. This is God's plan for him, to be the one to find Dean Winchester, here in this remote place.
He pushes open the glass door, and the bell above it jingles. Dean is there at the register, and neither he nor the cashier look up until Castiel calls out to him. ]
Dean Winchester. I need you to come with me.
[ There's no question in Castiel's voice, just a deep, gruff tone of inevitability. He stands straight-backed with a stuff sort of confidence. The suit he wears is a size too large; the trench coat swims on him, practically concealing his hands. His tie is pulled loose. He's been driving for a very long time, but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the fact that he's the one who found Dean, that Dean is here, and that he'll be the one to bring Dean home, no matter what Dean has to say about it. This is preordained. Castiel believes that. He'll do whatever it takes to see his mission through. ]
This is the only gas station for miles. It's a shack on the main highway, surrounded by thick woods. It's ideal, Castiel thinks. This meeting was planned. He was meant to find Dean here. This is God's plan for him, to be the one to find Dean Winchester, here in this remote place.
He pushes open the glass door, and the bell above it jingles. Dean is there at the register, and neither he nor the cashier look up until Castiel calls out to him. ]
Dean Winchester. I need you to come with me.
[ There's no question in Castiel's voice, just a deep, gruff tone of inevitability. He stands straight-backed with a stuff sort of confidence. The suit he wears is a size too large; the trench coat swims on him, practically concealing his hands. His tie is pulled loose. He's been driving for a very long time, but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the fact that he's the one who found Dean, that Dean is here, and that he'll be the one to bring Dean home, no matter what Dean has to say about it. This is preordained. Castiel believes that. He'll do whatever it takes to see his mission through. ]
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Castiel's eyes go wide like an idiot deer that wandered into the middle of the road and then forgot how to run under the blinding light of white headlights. Dean is talking about his lips, and touching him, and Castiel finally manages to startle enough and turn his white tail to the road. He drops Dean's hand and shuffles back, sideways along the wall. ]
You have a fever, Dean, and you wouldn't be saying this if you were well.
[ Castiel stumbles his way up to standing, a hand leaned on the wall like he needs it to stand, which is not entirely far from the truth. He's feeling embarrassingly weak-kneed. ]
I don't have any weapons. I... Here.
[ With some ungraceful digging in his pants pocket, he pulls out his cell phone, and he offers it to Dean. It's a stupid, dangerous decision, but he'll only be able to call within the community, so the worst he'll do is bother Balthazar, or Hannah, or someone else who assuredly knows he's down here, by now. Castiel doesn't know entirely why he does it, only that he would give Dean anything he had right now, and that's... alarming. ]
Call Uriel, or whomever you like. Talk to them. I'm going to get you medicine to bring your fever down and help you heal, and I'll be back soon. ... A half hour, or so. Alright?
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Dean makes a whine of protest, the panic flaring in his eyes, and he automatically reaches for Cas' leg again, wrapping his fingers around fabric, needy, terrified. ]
Weapons? [ That hadn't been his ploy, Cas doesn't have a key so it doesn't do Dean any good to try poking for one in Castiel's oversized trench, to try and kill Castiel. In hindsight maybe he should've been after at least something he could use to pick the lock of his collar, but in the moment, in this hot headed, brain fogged moment, all Dean can think about is pretty pink lips and the absence of Castiel pressed against his body.
The phone falls from his fingers into his lap, the look on his face stricken, panic filled. ]
Cas, please don't leave me--
[ You keep leaving him and one day you're gonna leave and never come back and he's going to die in this fucking hole, stinking and alone and--
He can't help the sob that bubbles up. ]
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I...
[ That phone is a tool, as valuable in Dean's hands as a knife could be if used correctly, and he simply drops it, clinging to Castiel instead. If anything convinces Castiel that this isn't some ploy of Dean's, it's that, and he feels the guilt rise like bile in his throat, that he even considered leaving Dean in this state, regardless of his own comfort. ]
Okay. I'm... I'm not leaving. I'll stay.
[ He decides it on instinct and says the words without thinking, because what other option is there? It would be cruel to leave Dean like this, ill and afraid and desperately lonely. Castiel steps without hesitance back into Dean's space, allowing slack in Dean's grip on his pants as he kneels down and pulls Dean into a hug before he even realizes that it's happening.
But, he doesn't regret it. He holds Dean, as much as the chained collar and nearby stone wall will allow, and he strokes Dean's back and speaks softly, like reassuring one would when reassuring a child. ]
You're alright. It's alright, Dean. ...Try to relax. Just... calm down and breathe.
[ He's reassuring himself also, Castiel realizes belatedly as he holds Dean but feels his own breathing slow and deepen with the advice. ]
I'm not leaving. I'll stay. It's alright.
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It's dark down here. [ His voice is muffled, small. A little wild - he's certainly delirious, but he speaks the truth.
His truths, the quiet ones he doesn't share with anyone else. ]
I don't like the dark.
[ Castiel smells good, he vaguely registers. Like...soap and shampoo. Clean things, things of safety and warmth. Detergent, which means clean clothes, a soft bed. Clean sheets. Somewhere to lay down and be safe, that isn't dirty and filthy and disgusting and dark. ]
Please stay.
[ Realistically, Cas needs to get Dean treatment of some kind, and soon, before it all goes septic and their 'Chosen One' dies from staph. But goddamn Dean doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts and fears.
His voice is practically a whisper, soft and barely audible. ]
Don't leave me.
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It's alright. I'm not leaving. I'll stay with you until we can get you out of here.
[ That'll be... something to explain, but maybe once Naomi sees the state Dean is in, she'll be willing to give him a room upstairs, like he should have gotten from the start. And then once Dean is cared for, Castiel can focus on finding out how this could've happened, and who needs to be held accountable for it.
The thought of a just future is calming, and Castiel finds himself relaxing more with the resolve. He shifts Dean slightly in his arms, not letting him go, but maneuvering them to a position somewhat more comfortable until they're sitting against the wall again, almost like before, except that they're more tangled up in each other than side by side. Gently, Castiel leans back, just a little, to try to look at Dean's face and ask quietly. ]
May I have my phone back?
[ He could just take it from the nest of Dean's lap, but that seems... inappropriate, in more than one way. ]
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Dean had already forgotten about the phone - if there was any indication of how far out of it he is, it's that damned cell phone. Cas literally handed him the most useful tool he possibly could have, and Dean dropped it, didn't even give it a second thought.
He barely gives it a thought now, looking at Cas with red eyes as he fishes it out of his lap and wordlessly hands it over. He'll probably hate himself later, when he's better, if he survives this, for not utilizing the phone while he had it, but for now he just...gives it back, without question. ]