Future warnings. None for this chapter. Story dedicated to my lovely Beta, Vanya Starwind!
"Did you have a certain breed in mind?"
The woman was pleasant enough, Castiel decided. He pursed his lips, realizing that no, there wasn't one certain race that he was particularly interested in.
"Would you show me your most intelligent bred, hmm, submissives, ma'am?" Castiel asked politely, because by God, a dominant would never do.
"Of course, although the attitudes among the humans we have here vary from submissive to dominant, so we don't have one particular group roped off from the others, Sir," she responded pleasantly, turning to head to the back where the humans were stored. "Male or female?"
"Preferably…" he paused. He wasn't sure why. "Male."
She collected a clipboard and held it tightly to her chest as she nodded, her long blond hair slipping over her shoulder. "Right this way."
Castiel wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but when they entered a long and tall room with what seemed like hundreds of humans, the woman revealed a metallic whistle and gave it a long blow.
"Boys!" she called in a strong voice. "A—one through B—two, please line up for me," she asked politely and Castiel took a step behind her as automatically the men parted and around half left the tall vaulted room and the other half stayed behind. "Line up alphabetically, thank you."
To the angel's surprise, the men didn't take too long to sort themselves out. There were African, Pacific Islander, and Caucasians alike standing in this line, all with stern faces and their arms crossed behind their back. It appeared very military like.
"This is Lord Castiel," she began, reading from her clipboard. "Any lad standing before me younger than late teens is to return to the barrack at this point in time, please." The line slimmed down some more. She turned to Castiel now and a compassionate look filled her features. "Men twenty years or older are generally recruited to join the military," she explained. "They become too old for our facilities and are being put to better use and allow themselves a better shot at a future."
At this, the tall angel nodded, eyes searching through the line of men. All the boys appeared to be ranging from the smallest, a short pale skinned boy who looked to be around sixteen, to a tall, strapping man about twenty.
"Please state your name, age, and level as the line goes on," the woman addressed and the first man began.
A couple men spoke their names before it landed on the pre-pubescent sixteen year old and then continued on.
"Gordon Walker, nineteen, A—three," a tall, toned man of African decent spoke. He looked straight ahead and ignored Castiel's probing eyes.
There was a long pause and the boy beside him didn't say anything. Gordon nudged him almost a little too harshly and the brunette boy turned to shoot an icy glare at his buddy. He scoffed. "Dean Winchester. Seventeen. A—one." The boy made sure to speak every syllable of each word in an annoyed, exasperated tone.
"Enough," Castiel spoke hard and coldly. The blond boy of French decent immediately stopped speaking and stared hard ahead. The dark haired angel slowly made his way over to the agitated boy who had just talked before the French one.
Although the Dean Winchester boy spoke in an irritated manner, he stared straight ahead. When Castiel stood directly in front of him, his bright, prodding azure blue eyes clashed with Dean's stone cold emerald ones.
A loud smack rang out in the silent room and Dean bent his head forward, bringing a hand up to his reddening cheek. A tall man with a low Louisiana accent spewed, "You disrespectful little shit! You lower your damn eyes when he speaks to you!"
Dean didn't say anything, just lowered his eyes, refusing to drop his hand back to his side, however.
"Apologize!" the man screamed. He raised his hand to slap the boy again, but this time, Castiel's arm shot out and the hand connected with the angel's forearm.
Castiel cocked his head to the side to meet eyes with the man from Louisiana who looked horrified. "I would appreciate it if you would stop harming this boy," he spoke softly, a small under tone to his voice going the measures his words weren't. Back the fuck off.
"Alistair, that's enough, thank you," the girl said and the man returned to his post at the end of the line of men. She came up to the angel and wounded human and smiled as if nothing were wrong. If anything, she looked like if she stepped or said something out of line she would be hit next. "Please come with me, Dean."
There was a half hour waiting period for Castiel, as Dean was getting ready to have an interview with the angel. The boy came out looking cleanly shaven and showered, his military suit buttoned up to his bulging Adam's apple and a stern look on his face.
"Claire, you know I'm not ready to be left alone—"
The blond woman, Claire, paused in the doorway and shot an annoyed look at Dean. "It's Ms. Novak, Dean, and I'll be right back." The heavy door slammed and Dean turned to look at the raven-haired angel, smirking.
"She loves me, really," he said cockily. "Probably just going to change her tampon," he said with a self-assertive wink.
This made Castiel smile and intertwine his fingers. "You're interesting, Dean," he said fondly.
Dean scoffed. "Yeah, and how old are you buddy? I know I'm just a 'shitty human' to you or whatever, but come on man. Don't start coming on to me."
Castiel began laughing now.
"You think I'm joking, dude?" Dean asked, leaning in close to the table. "Tell you what," he said, popping an M&M into his mouth casually—it was probably a treat he had stolen or bribed out of someone like Claire as the place didn't seem like a candy shop exactly— "You bust me out of here, I'll—"
"That's enough escape planning, Winchester," came a gruff voice. It was one Dean recognized immediately. The general.
Dean glared at the tall African decent angel. Castiel noticed immediately that he seemed very cocky.
The angels stood up and shook hands. "I would like to apologize in advance for having to talk to our very disrespectful, rebellious Winchester boy. Although he's smart, he's an obnoxious little prick."
"You're great, Uriel. A real rock star," Dean said and rolled his eyes, downing the bag of chocolate candies.
"Sit up straight, boy. Have I taught you nothing in this academy?" he asked, snarling.
Claire Novak entered the room next and took a seat on the other side of Dean. "Some background information," she said, reading over his notes. Looking across the metal table, Castiel saw Dean's mug shot and a bunch of papers clipped or stapled onto the back of it.
"Turned over to our corporation at the age of four, son of Mary and John Winchester—middle class family, Italian and Welsh decent," Claire spoke, eyeballing the notes.
"Astounding student." Uriel knitted his eyebrows together. "Bad personality."
"Is this some kind of roast right now? Are you two roasting me?" Dean demanded, leaning back in his chair and tossing the balled up candy wrapper in the general direction of the wastebasket in the corner of the room, missing entirely.
"Stating facts, Winchester," Claire said nonchalantly. She went over his dietary facts; Dean was a vegetarian. Took two pills a morning of Adderall to keep him focused during the day. No ADHD, but a prescribed drug to all boys of his age who were enrolled in the academy.
"This is unnecessary, really," Castiel stated finally. Both Claire and Uriel looked up at the same time to look at the bored angel. "I want him. I would like to take him home now if you don't mind."
All three across the table looked at Castiel in shock. Perhaps it was because he was the first person, maybe ever, to take any particular interest in such a disrespectful boy such as Dean. Over the years Dean had sort of learned to accept his fate, knowing that no one, not a high-class human or angel family, would want him.
Claire set in front of the angel a cleanly stapled stack of papers and Castiel read through them quickly, signing at the bottom of the page neatly.
The next step was for Dean to get a collar fitted as Castiel went to fill out more papers. It was a stainless steel collar that could only be removed by unscrewing it with a screwdriver, which would make it particularly hard for the one wearing it, as they would have to have the precision of trained mechanics to not accidentally stab themselves in the neck.
A charm was added to the front, a small metal plate with them emblem of angel wings, and one with Castiel's family crest, a blue crystal worked into the metal and the surrounding black angel wings. On the back was the man's name and owner's address.
When he stepped out into the front of the academy grounds, Castiel was alarmed at the new appearance of the human boy.
"Can't I, like, at least bedazzle it or something?" he asked, itching around his neck as the uncomfortable feeling was beginning to set in.
The boy looked beautiful in Castiel's opinion, what with his light brown hair cleanly cut and a bored look on his practically flawless face.
The drive back was… Odd. Castiel said nothing at all to the stiff human boy. Castiel drove with a purpose, keeping his eyes on the road at all times.
It was dark out and it was only three thirty in the afternoon. In post-apocalyptic times like these, it was almost always dark out. The sun seemed to not even feel the need to come out anymore and civilizations broke. Towns were harder and harder to come by. There were more military corporations like the one Dean had just come from than probably houses. It was sad, but Castiel was particularly apathetic, as the human race seemed to have pulled it on their selves.
Years and years ago when Castiel was much younger, the apocalypse came about on earth. Demons burst from the depths of hell and took over, creating mayhem wherever they pleased. It was only until his brothers and sisters stepped in and ceased the destruction of the little advancement that humans had made in their short lifespans that they were thrust in the direction they had came from. It had only taken a little over three years to get rid of the demons and general vicinity of monsters all together. Angels, now feeling quite proud of themselves for their great success, decided to take over not only the heavens but not all of earth, acting as peacekeepers if any sort of demon group decided to act up again.
Presently, the earth looked more like an overgrown forest. The remaining humans and angels who so chose to help out cleaned rubble and all demolition from fire or other hazardous situations. Currently, humans were working on repopulating, although if the numbers began to rise too rapidly, angels knew they would have to step in as to not lose their claim on earth yet again.
In the car now, though, Dean was absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the armrest and it was bugging the shit out of the angel.
"Dean, please," he spoke softly, patiently. The whole sort of situation that the two men were in right now kind of made Castiel wonder, has Dean ever even been in a car before? He had practically been locked up at the academy all his life—since a four ear old, according to the Novak woman.
The angel had been nothing but patient this entire time, Dean noted warily. What actually was the dark haired angel's plan for him?
He hadn't noticed it, but he actually asked that aloud.
"It is undetermined. I live with a dear friend of mine," he sure sounded dear, Dean thought, "who has his own throng of humans. He suggested I get one of my own as I never seemed to understand the use of… you…"
Dean shot up both brows. "Oh, yeah, my kind," he said sarcastically, whistling.
"And although I don't agree with harsh treatment towards humans, I believe they should be trained."
And fuck if that didn't send a shiver down Dean's spine. Trained? Trained like he had been at the military academy? Whips and lashes at the back of his thighs when he slipped up just speaking a word wrong. He nervously gulped.
"But otherwise, you're technically still a slave right now. My slave," Castiel said, not once veering his stare from the road as the path began to incline.
Dean didn't like that word. He had heard too many stories of friends of his—his childhood friends growing up in the academy with him—being bought and sold to cruel and heartless families who treated them like less than an animal. Beating, starving, killing.
They pulled into his driveway, which had a large overhang, and a path that led on to the main house. Dean stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He looked off and saw the huge expanse of the open scenery and the heavy woods that lined the property. The house looked like a fortress, brick and cobblestone, very old-timey.
Castiel appeared right behind Dean and the boy jumped. "Jesus—!"
"Although it pains me to tell you this, you aren't free." His plump pink lips form a hard line. He strode forward and Dean trailed after him.
"Wait, wait what? I get that I have some pretty severe daddy problems, what with him selling me and all, but you bought me!" Dean demanded. "If that wasn't my sweetest escape, I don't know what will." He caught up with the angel to place a hard hand on his shoulder to swing him around.
A hard hand swiped his intrusive fingers from his shoulder and the boy stood there looking shocked at Castiel, or the man who stood behind him.
"Do not touch what isn't yours," came a deep, accented voice from behind Castiel. The angel whipped around and caught sight of what both him and the human would call agonizingly beautiful
"Balthazar…" Castiel said softly and rushed into his arms. The blond man seemed slightly older, but how much older—Dean could only imagine. Angels don't age. They can die, sure, but about eighteen to twenty-six years into their youth their aging process slows down to practically nothing. So this dude could be either twenty-eight or seven hundred and four.
"You've been out too long, Cassie. I was getting worried," the Brit responded, pulling away from the smiling angel and looking him over as if for any injuries or changes. "I was just on my way out—"
"What a shame," Dean said sarcastically under his breath and both angels, of course what with their superhuman hearing, cocked their heads in his direction and shot him an icy glare.
"I'll meet your new pet later, Cassie," Balthazar said, venom in his tone. Dean felt taken aback but tried not to show it. Instead, he glared a hole through the dumb Brit's head.
Dean wanted to scream BYE after the angel, but instead held back and just snarled after the blond angel who was walking away one second—his back turned to Castiel and Dean—and then the next completely gone.
The boy's breath hitched in his throat and he was stuck staring where the man had just been.
"Come Dean. Although I give you permission to do whatever you please with me, if you do something regrettable to Balthazar, I will not hesitate to end you."
The terror of the situation suddenly crashed over Dean. He felt trapped.
The angel turned and Dean didn't know what else to do but follow shallowly behind. It was a five-minute walk to the actual mansion-like house. Upon entrance, Dean noticed how dark it was. There was also a faint stench of roses, strong like they were thrust into his face.
And then he met eyes with another human.
It was a girl—average height for any female, blond, dull brown eyes. She was beautiful, Dean guessed, her skin tone pale and lips a pretty flushed colour.
"Joanna," Castiel said softly. When she laid eyes on him, Joanna widened her eyes like a deer in headlights and took off.
The tall dark haired angel dropped his head. Dean wondered exactly what the hell was going on here, but didn't have time to question when the angel suddenly began walking away and Dean couldn't afford to spare a second more waiting around.
When he caught up, Dean lazily snarked, "Are you taking me to the dungeon or something?" sarcastically. The angel didn't respond. And honestly, the house wasn't as dank and creepy like Dean had expected. Although it lacked proper lighting, the place was completely furnished and clean. Perhaps they had some sort of cleaning crew. And then it hit him.
Or more humans.
Judging by the Joanna girl's dainty frame, she didn't look like she lifted her finger too often. Hidden somewhere, Dean knew it; there were more of them. More of those like him.
"If you were actually asking a serious question just now, not that I believe for a second that you were, there is a dungeon downstairs. It's uninhabited—as of currently—but keep in mind this is 2014, not the Dark Ages."
Dean gulped nervously, feeling his skin prick with sweat. "What? You film pornos down there?"
Castiel turned his head towards the human and smirked slightly. Dean would like to say he even heard a small chuckle. "Angels in pornos. That's a good one," he mused to himself.
Finally, they made it into a room. It was empty, a small eerie light turned on in the corner already. It was simple—queen sized bed, dresser, and window with heavy drapes. The wall colour was a soft cream, possibly tinted the slightest bit blue.
When Dean idled in the doorway too long, the angel forcefully pushed him inside the room and slammed the door behind him.
"How old did you say you were? Sixteen?"
"Seventeen," Dean said, the back of his knees hitting the bed and he fell onto it.
The angel stared at him for a long time, a mix of emotions splaying over his face. For a while, neither said anything but Dean felt a hot blush form over his cheeks and his need to say something either offensive or obnoxious to get out of this situation was beginning to kick in.
"I'd like to have a talk with you," the angel offered.
The door opened and a tall, curved woman with long dark hair walked in.
"Hello, Master Castiel," she said with an elegant purr as she passed him.
He nodded back at the human and that was probably when Dean noticed something unique about her that the earlier girl didn't have—and that was another stainless steel collar. It too had Castiel's crest on a tag that hung from the metal thing.
"How many other humans are here right now?" Dean demanded suddenly, noticing the girls' slow approach towards him.
"Just six, including you," the girl responded. On the back of her tag read Lisa and he turned to glare at the angel.
"When Balthazar and I bring humans into our household, we give them a choice," Castiel says, walking closer to the bed that Dean is sitting on. Lisa slides up behind him and places a warm thigh on either side of his hips and begins to massage his tense shoulder muscles. "You can either play by the rules here, and have your own freedoms, reporting to us only—or not. Or you can ignore our generous hospitality and then you will become nothing more than you were back at the military academy. A slave."
"Who is she?" Dean asked, nodding his head back at the girl behind him who only chuckled huskily and blew hot air onto his neck, making the hair there rise.
"Lisa Braeden is Balthazar's human. One of many, actually," Castiel explained.
"What if I don't want to be his human?" Dean asked, putting extra emphasis on the annoying words.
This only made Castiel smirk. "Oh, you won't be his human. No." He dwindles closer until the angel is standing before him and Dean suddenly feels fearful. "You will be my human."
The shell of his ear is licked by Lisa's hot tongue and a rush of excitement runs down his chest straight to his crotch.
"So I want you to report to me right now what it's going to be. Will you choose to be good and free—as long as you are under my command—or will you disregard the opportunity and become something… Become nothing."
"I—I uh," Dean stuttered.
"You get freedom, Dean—this room, those clothes, Lisa. Anything you want."
Dean furrowed his brows. Castiel didn't own him! Okay, sure, he bought him but that's a completely different thing. "Fuck you."
Castiel's face twitched and the corner of his lips curled up. "I would like a verbal confirmation, Dean."
"No! Fuck that—I'm not your property!" Dean cried, his embarrassment flaring when he heard his own voice crack. "No." he composed himself.
The look on Castiel's face in that second was almost indescribable. A small smirk formed on his lips. "I was hoping you'd say that." He turned to the female human. "Lisa, please?"
She snapped something into place under Dean's chin and the boy looked down in alarm to see the beginning of a metal leash attached to his collar. Lisa held the leash out to Castiel and carefully slipped off the bed, nodding to him with a gorgeous smile once more before dipping out of the room.
"Have it your way, Dean," Castiel spoke monotonously. He turned around, the short leash jerking Dean forward behind the angel as he walked towards the door.
"Hey!" Dean cried in alarm, tears pricking his eyes at the pain in his neck.
There was no reply, and instead he just dragged on after Castiel. There were a few more corridors before another flight of stairs and Dean felt officially lost. Just when he was about to blurt out something rude along the lines of 'Where the fuck are you taking me, you creepy fuck!'; Castiel turned in front of a room and thrust open the door. "This is my room," he stated.
"Oh, fucking really?" Dean asked sarcastically under his breath. Castiel walked forth once again and the leash jerked, this time the human boy expected it.
"On your knees," Castiel said, turning to Dean. A wild look flashed across the human's face, and at this the tall angel smirked. "Not for that reason, boy. Now get on your knees," he demanded this time.
Pride wincing, Dean sank down.
"This room is your room now too." The angel looked at the boy down his nose. "And as long as you keep up this rebellious act, you will stay with me in here."
Dean scoffed. "Am I supposed to sleep in your bed with you?"
The brunette boy had grown up indifferent to sexual orientations. There had never been any homophobic bullying in his academy, as all the boys—since there were only boys—had all agreed that if they had an urge and if another was willing to help them out… Problem solved.
A small smile twitched on Castiel's lips. "No, you will sleep here," he said, gesturing at the ground. At first he didn't know what he meant, besides just the hardwood floor, but then his eyes met the metallic cage…
And that's essentially what it was, a cage; or maybe one of those fences that a family would put up when they tried to keep their pets in one room of the house. It wasn't that high, maybe just four feet. Inside there was a pad with a thin sheet.
"Hands and knees, boy."
As he was bending over onto his hands now, he couldn't help the snarky comment slip; "Have you forgotten my name or something—?"
A loud smack echoed throughout the room when Castiel's hand collided with the crease of Dean's ass and the back of his thighs. He cried out once loudly and fell onto his forearms, hiding his face in the limbs. "When you enter this room, you speak only when spoken to."
A soft whimpering sound passed Dean's lips before he could stop himself.
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