Chapter Text
"What do you mean his body was gone?"
Pam had abandoned her hand and was staring at the group with confused concern.
"He wasn't there." Shoot's eyes were alight with a terrible mania. "That means he's still alive."
"Well, hang on, Shoot, we don't know that." Benny tried to cut in.
"He's alive. I know it." She insisted. The kind of determination you couldn't reason with thick in her voice. Dean couldn't help but want it to be true for her.
"I just don't want you to get your hopes up." Benny's tone was gentle and wary as if he were dealing with a wild animal.
Shoot's face contorted with disgust.
"It's like you want him to be dead."
Benny looked genuinely taken aback.
"Of course I don't want him to be dead! Christ, Shoot!" He rubbed a hand over his face in a self soothing motion then continued in the same calm tone as before.
"I just don't want you doing anything reckless before we know what happened."
"What happened is my brother needs me, that's the end of it."
Benny let out an exasperated sigh and opened his mouth to argue further when Castiel finally made his appearance. Dean sat up a little straighter in his chair.
"What's going on?"
"Stab is alive and Benny doesn't think we should look for him." Shoot blurted - rather like a child tattling on her sibling.
"We don't know he's alive-"
"We know."
Castiel held up a finger, silencing the both of them and turned to Scarface and Skinny Jo who until this moment had been stood behind the two in complete silence. They both looked as though they would rather be kept out of it.
"Explain." Castiel instructed them.
They shared a look.
"We went back to the spot Benny said Stab got shot. His body wasn't there so Shoot thinks he must still be alive." Scarface filled him in. Jo crossed his arms cagily and nodded.
"Curious." Castiel said pensively.
"You're sure you went back to the right place?" He asked Benny.
"Positive, same stump and everything."
Castiel rubbed at his furrowed brow.
"And there was no sign of him nearby?"
"There was a- uh-" Benny glanced at Shoot as if considering how to be the most sensitive about this. "Trail of blood leading out the clearing but it stopped a few paces out. We did a quick sweep of the surrounding area but the woods are too dense, it's impossible to say which direction he went."
"That's why we need to go back and do a proper search!" Shoot pleaded.
"Maybe.." Castiel mused.
"Maybe?!" Shoot repeated indignantly.
"Stab could be bleeding out right now! We need to find him!"
"Shoot." Castiel warned with a level gaze.
She yielded. Castiel's natural sense of authority was something Dean couldn't help but notice, he didn't want to say he admired it because that would be admitting the Captain had admirable qualities- which he certainly did not- but there was something about him that commanded respect and Dean found himself reluctantly captured by it.
"I'm sorry, sir, I just can't help but feel like we're wasting time." Shoot tried again with a much more submissive demeanour. This seemed to please Castiel.
"I understand your concerns, Shoot, and I want to find your brother alive as much as you do, I assure you. But Benny is right, we do not know what we're walking into and until I have more information you are not to leave this ship, do you understand?"
Shoot still looked like she wanted to argue but she sealed her lips tightly and gripped at her forearms as if she could hold herself in place that way. She nodded reluctantly and kept her eyes firmly on the ground in front of her.
"So what's the plan?" Skinny Jo asked. "Captain." He added as if it were an after thought. Castiel briefly eyed him but didn't comment on the lapse.
"I have certain resources I would like to consult before we take this any further." He replied which was asshole for 'I have no plan' Dean let out a derisive snort before he could stop himself. That was asshole for 'figures'.
"Mr Winchester, I don't believe your input was asked for." Castiel said without so much as a glance in his direction.
"I don't believe your birth was asked for." Dean mumbled childishly under his breath, hoping to amuse Charlie if nothing else.
"Pardon?"
Dean looked up at him, green meeting blue, apprehension meeting reprimand.
"Don't mumble, Dean, it's terribly impolite."
Dean felt the eyes of every pirate in the hall on him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind it did register that none of this was about him, that he didn't need to be making it about him. It wasn't fair to Stab or to Shoot. But there Castiel stood with his stupid smug face and Dean just simply couldn't help himself.
"Personally, I think kidnapping people is terribly impolite, but what do I know?"
Castiel was unphased as always, regarding Dean with a mild curiosity or amusement or perhaps both.
"You're right, how rude of me. I'll return you right away, shall I?"
Something about the way he said it made Dean uncomfortable, it felt the same way as Benny's look from earlier, like everyone was in on a joke and he was the butt of it.
He suddenly felt hot and bothered and in the mood to push buttons that ought to be left unpushed.
"How generous of you, Castiel, if only your crew knew exactly how far that generosity of yours truly extends."
Something flashed in Castiels eyes, the humour in them faltering slightly.
"Whatever you're implying, I'm sure, will come as just as much of a surprise to me as it will to my crew." The intonation was lighthearted but Dean could hear the warning in his words anyway.
There were scatterings of nervous laughter around the room, no doubt some of the pirates trying to ease the tension.
Dean didn't feel like backing down.
"I'm sure." He repeated and punctuated it with a slow poke of his tongue into the side of his cheek. subtle as the movement might have been it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was insinuating.
He heard several sharp intakes of breath in the otherwise silent room and the captains eyes were no longer glued to his.
"Take him to the mast." Castiel instructed no one in particular, a gruff flatness in his voice that meant any amusement he'd gotten from Dean had decidedly passed.
Dean didn't even care, he grinned as mutt and Scarface scrambled to drag him out of the hall. He had won.
————
Being back at his mast wasn't so bad, he'd become fairly well acquainted with the old gal. He was even starting to convince himself that if he sat just so against one of her ridges, it was almost a comfortable sleeping spot.
Harpy gave him some meat and cheese even though he was sure Castiel had told him not to. Dean didn't fully understand the crew's apparent fondness for him but he was grateful for it nonetheless.
Benny came by to check on him at one point, shaking his head and swinging a pigskin flask from his left hand.
"Just can't help yourself can ya?"
"Shut up and give me some water." It was hot that day, too hot to be sat in direct sunlight for hours but he probably should have thought of that before running his mouth.
"Say please." Benny chided.
"Fuck off." Dean replied.
Benny bent down and put the flask to his lips anyway.
-
Later Dean was paid a visit by the last person he expected.
Skinny Jo loomed awkwardly over him, peeling an orange. Dean stared back and waited, unsure what the pirates intentions were.
Jo sniffed then asked "you hungry?"
Dean furrowed his brow. He definitely hadn't expected that.
"Uh.. sure."
Jo nodded solemnly then leaned forward and placed a slice of the orange between deans lips.
The fruit was sweet and delicious and his stomach grumbled happily. He eyed the rest of the orange in Jos hand trying not to look too desperate. Jo peeled off another slice and gave it to him. There were quite a few pips in that one but he managed to avoid choking and just spat them to the side.
He regarded Jo wearily.
"Why are you being... nice?" He couldn't really think of a less rude way to say it.
Jo shrugged and traced some sand on the deck with his toe. He popped another piece of orange in his mouth.
"How was Stab?"
Dean frowned.
"What?"
"You know, before..." he wasn't looking at Dean.
Deans frown deepened.
"Fine.. I guess. Normal. Why?"
Jo scrunched his nose and looked up at the sky.
"It's gonna rain." He said and then he left.
Dean blinked in bewilderment and searched about him for some proof that that hadn't just been some heat stroke induced hallucination.
What the hell is happening around here?
He had a growing suspicion there was something going on that went beyond the usual pirate hi-jinx and he wondered if he might have been better off running when he had the chance after all.
He sighed and slumped back against the mast, squinting up at the sky. He did hope Jo was right about the rain. The sun had been relentless this past week and he wasn't sure he could take much more of it, especially if he was to be left out there for the foreseeable future.
——
When the first droplet trickled down from his hair, it was a relief - a nice cool remedy for his abused skin. The second droplet was just as well received, as was the third. The fourth, fifth, sixth however followed with such hasty succession that Dean realised with a quiet dread, what was coming.
As if on cue, an ominous rumble shuddered from the clouds.
"Fucker." He muttered as rain suddenly flooded from the skies, drenching him in seconds.
Well. Isn't this just perfect? He shook his head and tried to blink the water out of his eyes, his hands strapped uselessly at his side by the ever wetter ropes.
He almost wanted to laugh. Be careful what you wish for and all that. God was angry with him it seemed. And Dean supposed He had every right to be. He had betrayed his kingdom, his family, his very self. The tightness in his stomach worsened as he became more and more certain he had made the wrong decision by coming back here and the rain seemed to be mimicking his anguish.
It didn't take long for him to start shivering. The sky was an angry grey and the storm showed no intention of clearing. He wondered if after everything he'd been through, this would be how he died. From hypothermia or perhaps even drowning. Was it possible to drown in rain? He supposed he was about to find out.
He struggled against his bindings, hoping that they might have loosened in their wet state but all they did was chafe painfully against his skin.
He threw his head back against the mast hard and closed his eyes defeated. For a moment it was almost peaceful with the rain battering his eyelids. But then a nasty streak of lightening lit up the grey sky and he realised he might really be in trouble soon.
The storm worsened and the rolls of thunder grew louder and more frequent, he could no longer feel his hands or most of his legs and it was getting hard to breathe without inhaling water through his nose.
When a shadowy figure approached he thought he may already be dead and this was some demon come to guide him to the spirit land.
The demon untied his ropes and hauled him to his feet. When Dean tripped over his numb toes, the demon wrapped a strong arm around his waist and waded with him through the storm.
It wasn't until he was inside, safe and warm that Dean realised who the figure was. A demon of sorts, yes, but not from the spirit world.
"Remove your clothes." Castiel grunted as he fumbled with his own cuff links.
When Dean did not move, Castiel looked at him, black hair plastered to his forehead, wet eyelashes framing his blue eyes harshly. They did nothing to help, pinning Dean to the spot with their intensity. Had they always been that blue?
"I am happy to let you catch your death." He said impatiently.
Dean swallowed and blinked.
When Dean eventually figured out how to get his fingers moving and made a start on peeling the sopping shirt from his body, the captain seemed satisfied and revoked his harsh stare. His eyes may have lingered on the spot where Benny's shirt plastered to the contour of Dean's hips on their way out but there was no way of proving that.
Castiel removed his own shirt and Dean didn’t want to watch but his eyes felt too heavy to look away. A trickle of rain was dripping down Castiels abdomen and settling into the trail of hair that disappeared beneath his waist band. Dean's mouth was dry but asking for a glass of water right then felt too much like a confession.
They did not look at each other as they removed the bottom half of their garments.
"Hand me your clothes." Castiel instructed once they were both nude as the day they were born. Dean dropped the soaked clothing into the man's outstretched hand, trying not to look at any other part of him and mostly succeeding.
Without something to do with his hands he felt horribly exposed and though he and Castiel were both naked and drenched, he couldn’t help but feel like a wet dog next to a shark.
Dean covered his dick self consciously.
Castiel let out an amused chuff.
"I have already seen you naked, Dean."
Deans heart stopped before he realised he had bathed in front of the man that one time and then he couldn't even remember where his brain had first gone to.
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." He grumbled, feeling his cheeks redden as he spoke.
The captain smirked and took the clothes away to the washroom. When he returned he had a towel around his waist and another in tow for Dean. The prince grabbed it and made hurried work of drying his body and hair.
Castiel did not watch him dry, in fact his aggressive disinterest left Dean almost a little disappointed - though he would never admit that was the feeling. He watched as the captain made his way over to the fireplace and sat on his heels as he warmed his hands. A muscular thigh poked through the slit of the towel, the fire highlighting the slight glean of his still damp skin. Dean still felt thirsty, he still couldn't bring himself to ask for water.
He tied his towel around his waist tightly and made his way over awkwardly, not really knowing what was expected of him now.
Hesitantly, he reached out to warm his hands against the glow. He could feel Castiels eyes on him but he focused on the fire instead. There was a deep chill in his bones despite the flush in his cheeks, he wondered if he had already been out in the rain too long when Castiel came for him.
He lowered himself to the ground and sat cross legged as close to the grate as he could get without burning himself. He watched the fire as he tried to calm his shaking, it was mostly just adrenaline he was sure. He let the dancing flames distract him until infinite amounts of time may have passed without his notice.
The feel of a soft material slinking around his shoulders made him jump. He realised Castiel was adorning him with a blanket, he hadn't even noticed the man leave his side.
He tensed up.
"What are you doing?"
Rescuing him from the storm, that was one thing, but Dean didn’t know how to feel about receiving any care beyond that, especially from him.
"Trying to prevent you from freezing to death, is that alright?"
Dean rolled his eyes.
"I mean why are you being…nice?" He turned his head to fix the pirate with a distrusting stare.
Castiel huffed out a laugh and settled himself back down beside Dean, this time their bare knees touched. The point of contact felt warmer to Dean than the fire and the blanket combined.
The captain was wearing a woollen cream jumper and drawers now with his hair dried spiky and unruly.
"I don't know if ‘nice’ is the word I'd use." He smoothed a hand through his hair but it only made it worse. Deans fingers twitched.
He looked toward the fire again.
"What would you call it, then?"
"Protecting my assets." Dean looked back at him, Castiel grinned. It was not something he did often. It looked a little unnatural on him actually.
Dean suddenly felt exhausted down to his core.
He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, just sitting there for a minute.
"I don't understand." He sighed, eventually. "I don't understand any of this."
"What don't you understand?" Castiel asked, surprisingly gentle.
Dean laughed humourlessly, stroking his hands down his face.
"What I'm still doing here? Why you've been going to all this trouble? You could have been rid of me weeks ago with a nice healthy sum in your pocket and you decided to go on this wild goose chase instead. For what? Better connections in Crowley's circles? Come on."
Castiel nodded slowly as if considering this, he rubbed his thumb along the scarred lifeline of his palm and then he looked up to a spot on the ceiling and studied it for a long time. And then;
"Why did you come back?"
"What?"
Castiel let his eyes fall back on deans face.
"You expect me to believe Benny didn't offer to stage your escape?" He raised an eyebrow.
Deans lips parted as if the breath had been forced out of him, frozen still by the captain's unsuspecting astuteness. He tried to gather words to deny it, to keep Benny out of trouble but all he could do was stare in shock.
Castiel smiled privately and looked back down at the palm he was still absently stroking.
"I know my crew, Dean."
His brain finally kicked into gear and he scrambled for some excuse.
"Listen, Benny was just- you don't need to-"
Castiel raised a hand calmly.
"It's alright. If he were always honest and true he wouldn't be a pirate." He smiled wryly. "My point is, you have your reasons, I have mine. Neither one of us needs to explain."
And that's what was so frustrating about Castiel, trust the cryptic bastard to give him nothing.
"Fine, whatever, suit yourself." He tugged the blanket tighter around his chest - it was regrettably very comfortable.
"What are you gonna do about Stab?"
Castiel looked at him and chewed his lip. He seemed to be considering his words very carefully. But whatever he might have been about to say he clearly changed his mind because instead he just mumbled a gruff: "get some sleep." And removed himself from the rug.
Dean watched him disappear through the doors to his bed chamber. There was something so off going on here. He wished he could figure out what exactly.
———-
He wades through the forest, wades because it feels like water even though it isn't.
'Stab?' He calls out. His voice echoes as if he is the only person in the world.
'Stab?' He calls again, a little louder.
A hand covers his mouth.
'Stop that' says a disembodied voice in his ear. Dean knows it belongs to the hand. He doesn't remember turning but suddenly Castiel is in front of him though his hand still covers Dean's mouth.
'There is no need for that' Castiel says.
'I'm looking for Stab, have you seen him?' The hand still covers his mouth but his words are clear.
'Stab is gone.' Castiel replies. And it is suddenly night time.
Dean steps forward and his leg hits a tree stump. The one with the strange marking on it.
'We have to find him.' He is sure. They have to.
Castiel takes Deans face in his hands and blows a calming breath over his eyelids.
Dean feels himself fall backwards. He is lain out on the tree stump. Castiel begins to undress him. He asks the pirate what he is doing, Castiel does not reply. He tries to sit up but his body is so heavy. Distantly he feels the urgency to look for Stab but it is slipping from his mind by the second.
Dean is naked and stretched out like a sacrifice. Castiel wraps his long fingers around Dean's throat and squeezes. The trees above him start fading to darkness.
The fingers are in his mouth and all he can see is blue, blue eyes. He is begging - though for what he knows not.
Castiel is upon him, pushing him into the stump, crushing his lungs. When he gasps for air Castiel just pushes his fingers further down his throat. There is a pressure in his groin, a desperation, he juts his hips, chasing the pleasure. Castiel laughs. A cruel sound that runs through him like lightening. He hears himself whine, a sound he does not recognise. Castiels fingers are no longer down his throat. His fingers are no longer anywhere. He has disappeared.