Author: Fenikkusu Ai
Summary: Alastair wanted Dean more than a child wanted an ice cream sundae heaping with whipped cream and cherries. However, he knew that his skin would taste better than sugar. Slave AU.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
A/N: I apologize for the three month delay. I had some writer's block regarding this chapter.
Caught in a deluge of emotion that never seemed to end, Dean managed to stumble over to the sink. His very soul was caving in on itself out of pure despair. He was officially Alastair's bitch boy and he was beginning to realize there was nothing he could to change it. The game was on, and he knew that Alastair was already anticipating the time Dean would screw up again so that he could discipline him again. Alastair was going to get his money's worth one way or another. If anything, flirting his way through the situation would be easier even though the very thought of it turned his stomach. No matter how desperate he was becoming, Dean wasn't going there yet.
Furiously, he began swiping at his arms as if he could scrape away the filth. The helplessness. He just couldn't take anymore. As the weeks rolled along, he knew that he would explode from the tension. Dean seized a welcome glass from the sink and filled it the brim before rinsing his mouth out over and over again. It was no good. He knew that he would never forget the taste of him. Not completely. Not ever the unlikely scenario that he would escape.
He ground his teeth together and near cursed the fact that he needed a shower. Dean knew that, above all else, Alastair would appreciate his clean body. He could only hope that his appeal would become marred or that he would lose interest, but unfortunately, neither would happen soon enough.
At this point, Dean needed to get beyond this room. The solitude was slowly driving him insane. His mental processes were a mess, and they were impossible to unravel. By himself, he knew that he couldn't to stop this. All this enclosure did was mercilessly box all of his frantic energy with nowhere to put it. He could now relate to an animal in a cage.
After the steam from his miserable shower cleared, he caught a glimpse of the reflection that had so damned him. It felt good to blame the other Dean; the man in the mirror, and for a moment, he cursed his beauty. His father had often warned him breaking girls' hearts, though Dean bet that he had never fathomed a situation such as this.
Dean looked around cautiously before swathing the towel around his slick hips. The longer he was naked, the more he felt vulnerable. It was a new emotion that he was slowly growing all too acquainted with.
Now, Dean knew that he was now expected to change his clothes; clothes that were meant to display his body for Alastair and only Alastair. So, he purposefully dressed in black. it was one of the few rebellions that was afforded him. He knew that Alastair preferred rich colors. Bold. Red. Plum. Good enough to eat. Instead, he dressed as somberly as one would would for a funeral. Dean already knew that it was for his own. He was in mourning after all for a lost life.
All the same, he knew that he had better enjoy his "free time." It was only a matter of time before he was used again, and he refused to be weaker than the day before. He still refused to be devoured completely. There could be a day in the future where he make no move to fight back, but, that day was not here yet.
Dean was tired of thinking. Fully dressed, he lay back on the bed. He was exhausted.
Letting down his guard for the moment, his eyes drifted shut. He managed to close out the world for ten whole minutes until he realized that there was someone at the door. Dean's pulse skyrocketed as he sat up.
Was it Alastair. So soon?
Apparently, Alastair was permanently horny. For him
Dean soon found himself leaping off the bed to turn the lights off. He would take the fuck by surprise; choke him until he gave him his freedom. But, in reality, he remained frozen in terror, especially when he couldn't see.
I don't have it in me...
More than anything, Dean found that he was afraid. He hated himself then. Even more so than Alastair.
"Hey, who turned out the lights?" a female voice remarked.
Dean let himself breathe a sigh of relief. Meg. it was only Meg. All the same, he knew that he couldn't underestimate her. She worked under Alastair. He could only wondered if that was to be taken literally.
As the lights flickered on, he fought the urge to hide.
"Leave me alone," he groaned
Interaction was the last thing he needed.
"You're not getting anywhere fast might, so you might as well talk to me," she reminded him. "I can already see that you had a night worse than mine."
Dean didn't respond. He didn't want to play her games even though he sure as hell had. What use was it to confide her?
Meg wheeled the vacuum cleaner into the room. "You know, the nicer you are, the more parties you go to shows you off. You don't get to go anywhere if you're a bad boy."
As he watched her plug the convenience into the wall, Dean finally dared to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind.
"Did...anyone ever escape?"
A wicked smirk appeared on Meg's lips. "You know better to ask that."
However, Meg did have a point. More travelling, more opportunities to escape. More opportunity than he had now.
He remembered the last and only party Alastair had dragged him to and remembered that he had been left alone for a spell. Long enough to do something. But, he had screwed it up. Now, Dean wasn't getting away under his thumb any time soon. He should have done something. Anything. It would be an effort to get Alastair to trust him again.
"Now, I do have to clean up in here. If you take offense, tough."
Dean nodded numbly and considered her words as she began to vacuum.
Fantasies of escape on his mind, Dean absently chewed on his thumb until it bled; his mind no longer present.
Castiel blink at the phone number Crowley had left him as if the mere act of touching it would burn his fingers.
It had all come to this. All the suspense was leading to a grand finale, and Castiel found himself unprepared.
One thing was certain. He and Crowley had to meet him before the businessman lost interest. The entire case depended on it. Repeat performances at the bar wasn't solving anything. It was time to take definitive action.
Bobby noticed his movements.
"So, you're really going?"
Castiel was loath to discuss this with his partner, but he had to make his intentions clear. It was the point of being partners after all.
The younger detective's fingers shook as he unbuttoned his collar. From excitement or fear, he didn't know.
"That was always the plan, wasn't it?" he replied calmly.
It was an effort to keep his body smooth and in control, especially when it was betraying that he was not. Again, he could feel an element of destiny pressing around him. Something would be out of his hands as soon as he dialed the number. Castiel could feel it as sure as the bolt of lightning that flashed after a clap of thunder.
"Wish me luck," Castiel smiled.
Bobby nodded. The atmosphere in the room had grown tense. It was now or never.
Castiel's palm grazed the plastic casing of the phone as he picked it up
"I just...have bad feeling abut this," Bobby blurted. "I should go too.
Bobby echoed his thoughts perfectly, but more people would draw suspicion. Castiel was sure that he should go alone
He flipped the cell phone open.
Crowley turned around to face his guest. He was quite pleased with himself Yet, Lilith regarded him with disdain. There was a momentary flare of light across the room as he watched the woman light a cigarette. Most unladylike.
Lillith shook her head. "You should leave him go. He could be trouble," she warned. The cigarette smoked away between her fingers; blonde hair vivid against the pomegranate wallpaper.
Crowley already suspected that Castiel was a cop, but no matter. Crowley knew that he could always trap a problem. However, he wouldn't argue with her. He was painfully aware that she was still his superior. Out of the bed or in the bed, it would seem.
And, he wanted Bobby Singer for himself.