Castiel stopped at the top of the steps, preparing himself for the walk down, before he finally swung open the door. It had been three weeks since he'd been freed from Lucifer's influence, the archangel ascending and leaving him behind. He'd absconded ostensibly over the fact that he was exhausted from the experience, but Dean and Sam both knew the truth about what Castiel had done - or at least what Lucifer had done, while wearing him - and he wasn't anywhere closer to forgiving himself.
He couldn't stay away forever, though, not despite his best efforts. Dean called him, and Cas knew that despite the claim that it was business, he knew he was going to get cornered when he turned up, that this was going to be a confrontation - an ambush - of some kind.
He held his nerve as he pushed open the door, though his heart was going a million miles an hour, and walked slowly down the stairs.
Sam was out, it had taken Dean an hour to convince his little brother that he really didn't want to be there for this conversation. It was going to be hard enough he feared. Dean had spent the last fifteen minutes or so trying to make sure he didn't just run and hide when Cas showed up. On one hand he understood why and subsequently the Darkness had been defeated, but on the other...well, they both know what happened.
Dean hears the door open and steps on the stairs. He glances up from the table where he is currently sitting and drinking a cup of coffee. He'd taken to hot drinks almost as much as booze what with trying to keep his body warm from the cold and numbness ensconcing it since that night.
Castiel's voice..no longer tinged with Lucifer's arrogance and coldness washed over Dean and made his eyes prickle with tears. He swallowed heavily and forced them back. He refused to cry...not right now.
"Over here, Cas." Dean replied, voice tense and thick. He hadn't seen Cas since the end of the battle. He and Sam had been left to pick themselves up and clean up their own wounds. He was mostly healed now save for a few bruises and several scratches that were still scabbed over.
Oh, it was definitely an ambush. Sam wasn't here, there was just Dean sitting at the table alone, waiting for him, and Castiel faltered on the steps, hesitating halfway down. He put his hands down into his pockets, so Dean couldn't see his knuckles going white as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides.
It was his fault. After what had happened, he deserved to be raked over the coals for what he'd done, torn to pieces. If he hadn't been so weak, then Dean would have been safe. Lucifer had come after him because he meant so much to Castiel, after all; there was no other reason.
And what he'd done...what he'd put Dean through? There was no forgiveness for that.
His eyes hung low, and he stepped off the last few steps like he was walking right into Hell itself. Again. He approached the table slowly, hovering right far away on the other side of the table.
"You should sit down, Cas...we need to talk." Dean forced himself to say. He knows they can't have the conversation like this...with Cas standing above him. No, they need to be equals but Dean knows he can't do this standing up. He's pretty sure he would fall over if he tried to walk right now.
"It's been a while...huh?" Dean asked, stalling to let his nerves settle a bit more. "You look better." Better than he head when Lucifer left him at any rate. It hurt, seeing him before him looking like a kicked puppy. Dean felt a surge of justifiable anger...because Cas was the reason he was hurt and yet here he was looking as though he was the victim.
Then anger left almost as soon as it flared leaving him feeling a little hollow and cold. He took another sip of his coffee letting it warm him up from the inside out.
Castiel didn't want to sit. He wanted to turn invisible, or fly away, or sink through the ground, hide under the table--anything not to have to look right at Dean.
So he sunk down slowly into the chair like it was going to eat him, feeling the misery rising off Dean and knowing full well that he'd put it there. Dean was hurting. Dean was hurting because Castiel had let Lucifer do those things to him. He could have thrown him out, they'd have never have defeated the Darkness, but Dean wouldn't be looking at him the way he was, or feeling the way he was.
He still wanted the ground to swallow him up.
"I'm sorry," he began, like it even scratched the surface.
Avoiding Dean wouldn't help their situation at all. No, Castiel wasn't a coward and if Dean knew how badly the angel wanted to leave it might have hurt his feelings. He wanted Cas to fight for them. Yes, their first time had been stolen from them, but Dean Winchester knew well enough how short life could be and he knew that if they had any chance to get past this they needed to do it now.
"Cas..." Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he tried to get his thoughts together. "You made a mistake...it happens...I'll live. I'll heal. Will you?"
Castiel wasn't really much of a hunter. Quite the opposite, really. When it came to subtle things like this, he missed most of his cues, and this nightclub seemed to be pretty much be all about those subtle changes in character, in sensuality and temptation; not a language that the angel knew well. He watched the humans dancing, sensual women in tightly clad outfits, rubber and leather and silver, equally sensual men grinding up against them, or against each other. Others were copulating in the dark corners, and one was even being masturbated by the writhing dancer behind him, boldly, out in the open.
For all Castiel knew, this behavior was normal, places like this were normal. Of course, he was also overdressed, complete with his coat, shirt, and tie. He had a drink in front of him, which he hadn't touched--after all, if he drank it, he would only have to buy another. He was out of place, without a doubt, not that he wasn't drawing the odd inviting look or touch that went right over his head. One young woman had sat with him for a few moments, sliding his hands across his chest. She'd left not more than a minute later, crying.
Castiel was here looking for a god, after all, sent on a mission by Heaven to clean up their mess. Apparently, the man - or at least he resembled a man, presently - had been seen here. Loki. The real one. He wasn't even sure what to expect, but, watching a young woman clip her companion's collar with a leash, leading her over toward the bar. It was definitely interesting, if unusual, and Castiel found himself wondering what this god was like; certainly a creature of depravity.
What would he be like?
Too bad that Castiel would have to put the witchhazel stake he'd brought with him through his chest.
For a long while, Loki suspected angels might eventually come looking for him.
When exactly? That was impossible to say, though he highly suspected such a time would come when he could no longer get away with causing mischief and allowing the archangel Gabriel to take the blame while using his name. A bit of a cooperative effort, that. Some give and take. Maybe he'd taken a bit too much lately.
Perhaps someone might see it as going overboard when he tried to insert demons in highly powerful church positions just for his own amusement. Or maybe his attempts to stick his nose into Heaven's business in hopes of learning valuable secrets didn't go by unnoticed. The list of misdeeds went on, but those were the worst he'd engaged in most recently. The only reasons he could suspect would land him in trouble.
Possible trouble with beings more powerful than himself disturbed Loki much less than it likely should have. When he wasn't busy sneaking around Earth looking to cause chaos, he often frequented bars like this, where humans were free with their sexuality and didn't allow social norms to burden them with pesky limitations. He was dressed in the same sorts of leather as other of the bar's patrons, though his tastes were a bit more extravagant than most. Otherwise, his appearance did not mark him out from the others much at all.
The man in the suit staring at his drink, however? He stood out in the worst way possible. A cop possibly, though wouldn't law enforcement know to at least attempt to blend in?
Curious, Loki stepped over to the bar and sat himself down on a stool next to the stranger. He boldly picked up his glass and took a sip of the untouched drink. What was subtlety?
Castiel wasn't sure about many things, but when it came to drinking at bars, he was almost a hundred percent sure that other people weren't supposed to drink you scotch on the rocks. He blinked at the action, then up at the stranger, still reeling over the one overreach before he'd even considered the second.
Was he enjoying himself? He was supposed to be, he imagined, but all this...it seemed a little like a participation sport, and he wasn't really participating.
"Not particularly."
At least it was honest. His attention snapped back to the stranger, and the blue caught his eyes as he looked him over. He looked human enough; not the creature he was looking for, then, not unless his spellwork was good enough to shroud himself in the veneer of humanity. If that were the case, then Loki could be any of these patrons, and Castiel would never find him.
"If you're thirsty," he began, summoning as much courage into his voice as he could muster. "You should order a drink of your own."
Loki had indeed expended great effort in perfecting his human disguise over the centuries. Other supernatural beings would be able to read his magical signature otherwise, making his already human-like Asgardian appearance, or any variations, useless.
Such an enormously powerful spell required far too much focus without an enchanted item to carry the burden. The thin silver chain her wore around his neck, ornamented with an unassuming copper ring, kept him hidden from even Heimdall's all-seeing eyes as long as he wore it.
Precautions were necessary to ensure he remained hidden from his father as well as any angry angels who might come looking for him. So far his sorcery had yet to fail.
As for picking out other magical beings? Honestly, he wished it was easier. Loki knew a few spells that could reveal them, though he had no experience detecting angels. Demons, maybe, but not the uptight legion of the clouds. As far as he knew, this man at the bar was perfectly human. Attractive as well once one looked past the trench coat.
"I don't order drinks," he replied with a smirk. "But I could certainly order you."
Loki took another sip of the drink, obviously not phased in the slightest by the stranger's displeasure with his behavior. "Care to be my submissive for the evening? You might relax more readily in the VIP lounge."
It was startlingly straightforward. Between the lingering looks, and the angle that the man sat in the chair beside him, his boldness in the request was hardly unexpected. Castiel's mind was quick - quicker than most - quick enough to run through all the possible answers in his head before he even said them. He was here looking for someone else: rude, but it would excuse him; he wasn't sexually submissive: at least half true; and yes: yes provided the greatest opportunity.
Fine, he didn't understand the concept very well. The basics, certainly. Angels were naturally submissive, that was what they were programmed to be, and he could recognize the function at play in the people around them; there was clearly one person dominating another. Perhaps that was what the thing with the drink was about.
But the sex didn't interest him. It was the other part of the man's invitation that most resounded with him. The VIP lounge? He hadn't even realized there was such a place. His failed efforts to locate Loki suddenly made a great deal of sense, because if a god was going to be anywhere in this place, particularly one with an ego like Loki's, it would be in the place occupied by other very important people; a place Castiel had no hope of getting unless he was invited.
He worked his lips for a fraction of a second, just a hint of pink tongue as he chewed the thought through. A second, at the most, and then he nodded.
"That sounds acceptable," he agreed, calmly. He didn't even know this man's name--but that was alright, it wasn't as though he was in a hurry to share his own, either.
[ Castiel spared one last glance around him, toward the piles of toys in all their colors and sizes, and then edged just the slightest nod back toward Dean. Yes. Yes, he would. He tipped his head down, agreeably, then pulled himself up onto his knees, already visibly half hard considering the fact that he'd stripped down to nothing before even so much as heading out on his shopping trip. ]
Perhaps all of them, [ He mused, with the lightest growl, and then he reached his hand out toward Dean. ] Perhaps only half. Come here.
I hardly need to, do I, when there are so many of these things here meant for just that purpose...
[ He reaches across the circle, and sat back with one of the various toys. A cat-o-nine-tails which was clearly meant for play rather than brutality, made with soft velour--it would none the less hurt when used, but it wasn't made with the thick leather or braided straps that some of the others boasted. ]
This one, for example. These have been used for thousands of years, I'm sure I can negotiate my way around their use.
[A shiver runs through the hunter and he lets his eyes trail over the angel before him. Castiel, naked and kneeling before him holding a cat-o-nine-tails like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is his life even that this could be normal?!]
As exciting as that would be to find out I'd rather you used your hand if you're going to spank me. Still...can't have fun unless I'm naked I suppose. [With that Dean started to strip his clothes off, setting them aside to be retrieved later.]
So exactly how much come do we need to make this spell work?
[ Which usually meant "more than you'd expect". Castiel didn't elaborate, however, and he tossed the switch carelessly aside. It wasn't like it was expressly in his nature to use that kind of thing anyway, but it was at least recognisable compared to the other things in his plastic collection. He hummed as he picked out the bottle of lube, eyes flickering up toward Dean as he opened it. ]
You mentioned mutual masturbation. I think it would be wise to start there. [ And if Castiel sounded eager, it was because that was exactly what he was. ]
Okay, so it took an awful lot of booze to get Castiel drunk, He was trying as hard as he could, drinking shots as fast as they could be lined up, but it seemed to take forever even to take the edge off the room, nevermind the positive riot of noise that was the inside of his head.
His thoughts were all over the place, wound up in circles with Crowley and Raphael and Sam and Dean, but he was trying to drink all thought of them away, to just exist in the moment with Balthazar, not as an angel, or a rebel, or a leader, or any of the things he didn't think he was worthy of being any more. It was all falling apart, and he had no intention of dwelling on any of it--if only he could drink enough to wash it all away.
Raising his hand, he stilled the endless pouring.
"Just pass me the bottle," he directed. Bottle to mouth. Skip the middle man. Classy.
Balthazar is more than happy to oblige Castiel's whims at first. It's not often his favourite brother wants to drink, and even less so when he actually wants to get drunk. There's something in the way he downs shot after shot almost as fast as Balthazar can fill their glasses, though, that concerns him. Like he's trying to drown himself, or something in his own mind. Maybe, Balthazar thinks, he pushed a little too far in their earlier conversation. Maybe he's crossed a line.
He stops mid-pour as Castiel raises his hand and demands the bottle, head tilting in mild concern, as he hesitates. "Castiel. I hope this wasn't something I said."
Castiel made a soft noise of discontent and frustration, staring across at Balthazar with a kind of withering irritation. He wanted that bottle - any bottle - anything that would shut the world and all its noise out. But it didn't come. Balthazar was now holding out on him.
He scowled.
"If I were mad at you, do you imagine I would be drinking with you? I have been inebriated before. I have no intention of...of..."
What was he trying to say? It had slipped from his mind completely. He grimaced, and looked down at his hand, still wrapped around his previous empty glass.
"Don't you wish, sometimes, to simply be able to step away from what we are? I am an angel, of course, but..."
Balthazar shrugs. He supposes Castiel's desire to get drunk with him mostly rules out the idea that this is something he's precipitated. "I suppose that's a reasonable point."
He relents and slides the bottle across the table, before retrieving another one for himself from the liquor cabinet. "Step away from what we are? I think I did that when I left Heaven, don't you?" He cracks open the second bottle and pours himself a glass, "But yes, I understand what you mean. There's certainly nothing wrong with blowing off a bit of steam once in awhile."
[ Demons had very quickly become part of the problem, which wasn't wholly a surprise. They had been left to pour their filth over the Earth for far too long, unchecked by their own kind. Angels remained in Heaven, after all. All of them except for Castiel's garrison, who were not themselves intended to interfere. They watched...until the orders changed. Until they were asked to watch no more, and instead throw themselves into the fray.
The demons, though, were more organized than any of them had imagined they could be. And then there was Ruby, acting alone, undoing everything with her wicked, whispered temptation, poisoning Sam for some kind of reason that Castiel barely understood. Castiel blamed himself. He should have seen it sooner, interfered sooner, not been so wretchedly entangled with his own devotion to Heaven that he had all but betrayed himself as well as the humans he'd come to care for. Now he knew what they were doing to him, now he knew what Ruby was doing to Sam, and why Heaven desired it to be done that way...
He had needed to tell them. Stop. Interfere. He was ready to betray Heaven, and that was when they had come for him.
Angels could not be trusted. Case in point: Castiel had been thrust out of his vessel, and - unable to protect his family - it had been abducted, carried off. And then...then the demons had summoned him, forced him to take his vessel all over again. Cas didn't know quite what the angels had been doing to him while he was gone, but his head already felt like it was in a thousand pieces, long before they began to torture him.
His pain spilled out into the world, tore into the universe itself, the demons trying to probe his weaknesses, trying to find the answers that would give them the victories they wanted. Whatever it was they did, they found the right switch, forced his grace to materialize, wings opening against his will; all power made vulnerable. They shackled him by them, chained him helpless and sweating, half naked, from the ceiling beams.
Castiel was barely listening when the conversation began to change, when the demons remarked on the approach of another, someone that they didn't trust for whatever reason. He wasn't paying attention, trying instead to contain what energy he had left. If he could just stay strong, then he could get loose. Somehow. Somehow.
The voices changed. There were screams. Someone was being killed... It had to be... ]
[ It's certainly not Dean that slips into the room. This figure is much smaller, though mostly hidden in the shadows as the rusty metal door creaks and then shuts with a heavy but dulled clang. ]
Not quite.
[ Ruby leans against the door behind her, taking in the scene in front of her. She hadn't intended to get caught up in the general affairs of her fellow demons for a while, not any further than she had to in order to keep Sam happy. As loyal as she is to Lilith, as far as everyone else was concerned, she was the lowest worm of a traitor and a whore, and even with Alistair out of the way, her redemption, such as it would be, was still yet to come. But then she heard of Castiel's capture, and that was a potentially loose end that she couldn't just ignore, as risky as showing her face is these days.
She would have to admit that whoever chained the angel up like this has as much of a sense of style as sadism. It's an impressive sight with his wings stretched out and strained, the chains a rough, harsh contrast against pristine feathers, his vessel bound up in sigils and runes, many of which Ruby's never even seen before. They definitely didn't plan on leaving him any wiggle room to escape, which works well for her purposes, too. Plus she finds this rather appealing to look at, even if this vessel is thinner than the one she's gotten rather partial to, and she's got no particular complaints there. ]
This is a new look for you. I like it.
[ She's turning over an angel blade in her hands as she steps forward. Castiel's, of course. She's been feeling a bit naked without her knife, but this is certainly a more than suitable alternative. Despite her light, sarcastic tone there's a bitterness that flickers through her dark eyes along with the calculation. But she's not steering off onto a tangent, not yet. She needs to figure out what's going on in that angelic mind of his. ]
I wasn't sure you'd still be coherent. I have to admit, I'm kind of impressed.
[ Castiel can tell at once that his savior is not Dean or Sam. They'd take up most of the doorway, and this lithe figure does not. Fortunately, he doesn't have to wonder as to their identity for long.
Ruby, of course. Because between three different kinds of abduction, his luck couldn't possibly be about to change. He strains against the chains instinctively, but there's only enough give in them for him to flex muscles, for the wings on his back to stretch and quiver, and fall still again. Fighting is a waste of his energy; he'd established as much days ago. And he can tell that when it comes to Ruby, his energy is far better conserved. She has no reason to torture him for information, he supposes, but he had stood in her way, stood between her and Sam on more than one occasion. He wonders if she holds that against him. Probably. Demons are, if anything, less predictable than humans, and Castiel has had enough difficulty with them.
If his expression had been tired before, it takes on a new effort of resistance, gathers his strength to look defiant for a moment or two. His head still aches, but if he can squint through the sparking lights behind his eyes, he can defy her, no matter what her reasons are. Perhaps she will kill him, he wonders. He doubts she'll set him free, considering what he might have to tell Sam and Dean. He could stop them, prevent this. Perhaps she doesn't know, in which case he's not in a hurry to tell her. There might be a fight here after all.
He raises his chin minutely, preparing himself. ]
Your kin were not particularly good at their task. [ It was a lie, and even if not for the demon's efforts, which were inscribed all over his chest in cuts from his angel blade, Heaven had done a better job by far. ] Not that you had the chance to ask them, before you killed them, but I told them nothing.
[ But perhaps he shouldn't have implied that there was anything to tell. ]
[ Ruby's used to being consistently underestimated. True, she doesn't have the brute strength that some other demons possess, but she has her own methods. It's how she managed to hold onto so much of herself despite her long years in Hell, and how she got to go topside for such an important mission. There's no room for sentimentality when it comes to the Winchester's pet angel. The only reason that she's talking to him at all is that he's been useful in the past. She didn't get this far by throwing potential advantages to wind.
Then again, neither did she because she made a habit of leaving loose ends free to potentially disrupt the whole plan, and now they're so close. She's sacrificed so much, worked so hard, waited so long, and now it's finally within reach. She can't jeopardize that. This calls for a bit of a bluff, a face she's used to putting on for the Winchesters. It's hard to imagine this stone-faced soldier trying to con her, but she's wary. ]
The odds of me getting anything useful out of them versus one of them getting away and running off to tattle on me? Not good, princess.
[ It's an unusual reversal for someone else to be on the chopping block, with her being the one standing over them with a blade. That's not to say that she's never been in this position, obviously, but it's been a long time. She doesn't count the demons she trapped with Sam. Those were for him, after all, with her usually only stepping in to cut them off when they started prattling on uselessly.
Or inconveniently. ]
Should I? Last I checked we were on the same team. Sort of. I mean... [ She saunters closer until she's close enough to reach out and stroke a few fingers lightly up the middle of his chest, deftly working around the cuts, in a gesture that's almost soothing. ] Pretty much the only reason you or Chuckles didn't smite me was because I wasn't worth your time, right?
[ Uriel had seemed to consider Sam's preoccupation with her to be less damning than the association with their fallen, literally disgraced angel, which had been an odd, if useful distinction. ]
[ She could afford to be more wary. Cas has been learning. The more time he spent in this fight, the more time he'd spent with Dean, among humans, around demons and his fellow angels, the better he had learned, and while there was still scope for so much more, Cas could at least lie. The fact that he held her gaze while he did it was simply because he didn't know how else to behave, how else to express himself.
She was holding his blade. He had to risk his life on it. His eyes flickered down, however, as she came into touching range: because touching range was stabbing range, and because it was unexpected, made his body jerk briefly underneath the unexpected almost ticklish sensation prickling across his skin. He snapped his gaze back up to her, but it was too late. Strange. He expected pain. Pain was something he understood. This was different.
He shook it off as best as he could, attempted to regain his footing on the conversation, almost blundering out that they had clearly been wrong, misled. His mouth opened to form the words, but he closed it tight again, eyes narrowing instead.
She wasn't going to unsettle him. Certainly not with...with gentleness. ]
You were...helpful.
[ Sure. That was totally all it was. He doubted that was the reason now, doubted it with a fierce dislike that curled in his belly. Heaven had misled him, misled them, held him, and the Winchesters, and whoever else who stood in their way, up as sacrifice. The thought angered him visibly, his teeth clenching. ]
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He couldn't stay away forever, though, not despite his best efforts. Dean called him, and Cas knew that despite the claim that it was business, he knew he was going to get cornered when he turned up, that this was going to be a confrontation - an ambush - of some kind.
He held his nerve as he pushed open the door, though his heart was going a million miles an hour, and walked slowly down the stairs.
"Sam? Dean?"
if I need to change this, let me know.
Dean hears the door open and steps on the stairs. He glances up from the table where he is currently sitting and drinking a cup of coffee. He'd taken to hot drinks almost as much as booze what with trying to keep his body warm from the cold and numbness ensconcing it since that night.
Castiel's voice..no longer tinged with Lucifer's arrogance and coldness washed over Dean and made his eyes prickle with tears. He swallowed heavily and forced them back. He refused to cry...not right now.
"Over here, Cas." Dean replied, voice tense and thick. He hadn't seen Cas since the end of the battle. He and Sam had been left to pick themselves up and clean up their own wounds. He was mostly healed now save for a few bruises and several scratches that were still scabbed over.
nope it's good!
It was his fault. After what had happened, he deserved to be raked over the coals for what he'd done, torn to pieces. If he hadn't been so weak, then Dean would have been safe. Lucifer had come after him because he meant so much to Castiel, after all; there was no other reason.
And what he'd done...what he'd put Dean through? There was no forgiveness for that.
His eyes hung low, and he stepped off the last few steps like he was walking right into Hell itself. Again. He approached the table slowly, hovering right far away on the other side of the table.
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"It's been a while...huh?" Dean asked, stalling to let his nerves settle a bit more. "You look better." Better than he head when Lucifer left him at any rate. It hurt, seeing him before him looking like a kicked puppy. Dean felt a surge of justifiable anger...because Cas was the reason he was hurt and yet here he was looking as though he was the victim.
Then anger left almost as soon as it flared leaving him feeling a little hollow and cold. He took another sip of his coffee letting it warm him up from the inside out.
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So he sunk down slowly into the chair like it was going to eat him, feeling the misery rising off Dean and knowing full well that he'd put it there. Dean was hurting. Dean was hurting because Castiel had let Lucifer do those things to him. He could have thrown him out, they'd have never have defeated the Darkness, but Dean wouldn't be looking at him the way he was, or feeling the way he was.
He still wanted the ground to swallow him up.
"I'm sorry," he began, like it even scratched the surface.
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"Cas..." Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he tried to get his thoughts together. "You made a mistake...it happens...I'll live. I'll heal. Will you?"
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For all Castiel knew, this behavior was normal, places like this were normal. Of course, he was also overdressed, complete with his coat, shirt, and tie. He had a drink in front of him, which he hadn't touched--after all, if he drank it, he would only have to buy another. He was out of place, without a doubt, not that he wasn't drawing the odd inviting look or touch that went right over his head. One young woman had sat with him for a few moments, sliding his hands across his chest. She'd left not more than a minute later, crying.
Castiel was here looking for a god, after all, sent on a mission by Heaven to clean up their mess. Apparently, the man - or at least he resembled a man, presently - had been seen here. Loki. The real one. He wasn't even sure what to expect, but, watching a young woman clip her companion's collar with a leash, leading her over toward the bar. It was definitely interesting, if unusual, and Castiel found himself wondering what this god was like; certainly a creature of depravity.
What would he be like?
Too bad that Castiel would have to put the witchhazel stake he'd brought with him through his chest.
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When exactly? That was impossible to say, though he highly suspected such a time would come when he could no longer get away with causing mischief and allowing the archangel Gabriel to take the blame while using his name. A bit of a cooperative effort, that. Some give and take. Maybe he'd taken a bit too much lately.
Perhaps someone might see it as going overboard when he tried to insert demons in highly powerful church positions just for his own amusement. Or maybe his attempts to stick his nose into Heaven's business in hopes of learning valuable secrets didn't go by unnoticed. The list of misdeeds went on, but those were the worst he'd engaged in most recently. The only reasons he could suspect would land him in trouble.
Possible trouble with beings more powerful than himself disturbed Loki much less than it likely should have. When he wasn't busy sneaking around Earth looking to cause chaos, he often frequented bars like this, where humans were free with their sexuality and didn't allow social norms to burden them with pesky limitations. He was dressed in the same sorts of leather as other of the bar's patrons, though his tastes were a bit more extravagant than most. Otherwise, his appearance did not mark him out from the others much at all.
The man in the suit staring at his drink, however? He stood out in the worst way possible. A cop possibly, though wouldn't law enforcement know to at least attempt to blend in?
Curious, Loki stepped over to the bar and sat himself down on a stool next to the stranger. He boldly picked up his glass and took a sip of the untouched drink. What was subtlety?
"Enjoying yourself?"
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Was he enjoying himself? He was supposed to be, he imagined, but all this...it seemed a little like a participation sport, and he wasn't really participating.
"Not particularly."
At least it was honest. His attention snapped back to the stranger, and the blue caught his eyes as he looked him over. He looked human enough; not the creature he was looking for, then, not unless his spellwork was good enough to shroud himself in the veneer of humanity. If that were the case, then Loki could be any of these patrons, and Castiel would never find him.
"If you're thirsty," he began, summoning as much courage into his voice as he could muster. "You should order a drink of your own."
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Such an enormously powerful spell required far too much focus without an enchanted item to carry the burden. The thin silver chain her wore around his neck, ornamented with an unassuming copper ring, kept him hidden from even Heimdall's all-seeing eyes as long as he wore it.
Precautions were necessary to ensure he remained hidden from his father as well as any angry angels who might come looking for him. So far his sorcery had yet to fail.
As for picking out other magical beings? Honestly, he wished it was easier. Loki knew a few spells that could reveal them, though he had no experience detecting angels. Demons, maybe, but not the uptight legion of the clouds. As far as he knew, this man at the bar was perfectly human. Attractive as well once one looked past the trench coat.
"I don't order drinks," he replied with a smirk. "But I could certainly order you."
Loki took another sip of the drink, obviously not phased in the slightest by the stranger's displeasure with his behavior. "Care to be my submissive for the evening? You might relax more readily in the VIP lounge."
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Fine, he didn't understand the concept very well. The basics, certainly. Angels were naturally submissive, that was what they were programmed to be, and he could recognize the function at play in the people around them; there was clearly one person dominating another. Perhaps that was what the thing with the drink was about.
But the sex didn't interest him. It was the other part of the man's invitation that most resounded with him. The VIP lounge? He hadn't even realized there was such a place. His failed efforts to locate Loki suddenly made a great deal of sense, because if a god was going to be anywhere in this place, particularly one with an ego like Loki's, it would be in the place occupied by other very important people; a place Castiel had no hope of getting unless he was invited.
He worked his lips for a fraction of a second, just a hint of pink tongue as he chewed the thought through. A second, at the most, and then he nodded.
"That sounds acceptable," he agreed, calmly. He didn't even know this man's name--but that was alright, it wasn't as though he was in a hurry to share his own, either.
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continuation from tfln
Perhaps all of them, [ He mused, with the lightest growl, and then he reached his hand out toward Dean. ] Perhaps only half. Come here.
Re: continuation from tfln
And if I don't? What are you going to do, spank me?
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[ He reaches across the circle, and sat back with one of the various toys. A cat-o-nine-tails which was clearly meant for play rather than brutality, made with soft velour--it would none the less hurt when used, but it wasn't made with the thick leather or braided straps that some of the others boasted. ]
This one, for example. These have been used for thousands of years, I'm sure I can negotiate my way around their use.
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As exciting as that would be to find out I'd rather you used your hand if you're going to spank me. Still...can't have fun unless I'm naked I suppose. [With that Dean started to strip his clothes off, setting them aside to be retrieved later.]
So exactly how much come do we need to make this spell work?
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[ Which usually meant "more than you'd expect". Castiel didn't elaborate, however, and he tossed the switch carelessly aside. It wasn't like it was expressly in his nature to use that kind of thing anyway, but it was at least recognisable compared to the other things in his plastic collection. He hummed as he picked out the bottle of lube, eyes flickering up toward Dean as he opened it. ]
You mentioned mutual masturbation. I think it would be wise to start there. [ And if Castiel sounded eager, it was because that was exactly what he was. ]
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His thoughts were all over the place, wound up in circles with Crowley and Raphael and Sam and Dean, but he was trying to drink all thought of them away, to just exist in the moment with Balthazar, not as an angel, or a rebel, or a leader, or any of the things he didn't think he was worthy of being any more. It was all falling apart, and he had no intention of dwelling on any of it--if only he could drink enough to wash it all away.
Raising his hand, he stilled the endless pouring.
"Just pass me the bottle," he directed. Bottle to mouth. Skip the middle man. Classy.
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He stops mid-pour as Castiel raises his hand and demands the bottle, head tilting in mild concern, as he hesitates. "Castiel. I hope this wasn't something I said."
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He scowled.
"If I were mad at you, do you imagine I would be drinking with you? I have been inebriated before. I have no intention of...of..."
What was he trying to say? It had slipped from his mind completely. He grimaced, and looked down at his hand, still wrapped around his previous empty glass.
"Don't you wish, sometimes, to simply be able to step away from what we are? I am an angel, of course, but..."
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He relents and slides the bottle across the table, before retrieving another one for himself from the liquor cabinet. "Step away from what we are? I think I did that when I left Heaven, don't you?" He cracks open the second bottle and pours himself a glass, "But yes, I understand what you mean. There's certainly nothing wrong with blowing off a bit of steam once in awhile."
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The demons, though, were more organized than any of them had imagined they could be. And then there was Ruby, acting alone, undoing everything with her wicked, whispered temptation, poisoning Sam for some kind of reason that Castiel barely understood. Castiel blamed himself. He should have seen it sooner, interfered sooner, not been so wretchedly entangled with his own devotion to Heaven that he had all but betrayed himself as well as the humans he'd come to care for. Now he knew what they were doing to him, now he knew what Ruby was doing to Sam, and why Heaven desired it to be done that way...
He had needed to tell them. Stop. Interfere. He was ready to betray Heaven, and that was when they had come for him.
Angels could not be trusted. Case in point: Castiel had been thrust out of his vessel, and - unable to protect his family - it had been abducted, carried off. And then...then the demons had summoned him, forced him to take his vessel all over again. Cas didn't know quite what the angels had been doing to him while he was gone, but his head already felt like it was in a thousand pieces, long before they began to torture him.
His pain spilled out into the world, tore into the universe itself, the demons trying to probe his weaknesses, trying to find the answers that would give them the victories they wanted. Whatever it was they did, they found the right switch, forced his grace to materialize, wings opening against his will; all power made vulnerable. They shackled him by them, chained him helpless and sweating, half naked, from the ceiling beams.
Castiel was barely listening when the conversation began to change, when the demons remarked on the approach of another, someone that they didn't trust for whatever reason. He wasn't paying attention, trying instead to contain what energy he had left. If he could just stay strong, then he could get loose. Somehow. Somehow.
The voices changed. There were screams. Someone was being killed... It had to be... ]
Dean? Dean, is that you?
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Not quite.
[ Ruby leans against the door behind her, taking in the scene in front of her. She hadn't intended to get caught up in the general affairs of her fellow demons for a while, not any further than she had to in order to keep Sam happy. As loyal as she is to Lilith, as far as everyone else was concerned, she was the lowest worm of a traitor and a whore, and even with Alistair out of the way, her redemption, such as it would be, was still yet to come. But then she heard of Castiel's capture, and that was a potentially loose end that she couldn't just ignore, as risky as showing her face is these days.
She would have to admit that whoever chained the angel up like this has as much of a sense of style as sadism. It's an impressive sight with his wings stretched out and strained, the chains a rough, harsh contrast against pristine feathers, his vessel bound up in sigils and runes, many of which Ruby's never even seen before. They definitely didn't plan on leaving him any wiggle room to escape, which works well for her purposes, too. Plus she finds this rather appealing to look at, even if this vessel is thinner than the one she's gotten rather partial to, and she's got no particular complaints there. ]
This is a new look for you. I like it.
[ She's turning over an angel blade in her hands as she steps forward. Castiel's, of course. She's been feeling a bit naked without her knife, but this is certainly a more than suitable alternative. Despite her light, sarcastic tone there's a bitterness that flickers through her dark eyes along with the calculation. But she's not steering off onto a tangent, not yet. She needs to figure out what's going on in that angelic mind of his. ]
I wasn't sure you'd still be coherent. I have to admit, I'm kind of impressed.
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Ruby, of course. Because between three different kinds of abduction, his luck couldn't possibly be about to change. He strains against the chains instinctively, but there's only enough give in them for him to flex muscles, for the wings on his back to stretch and quiver, and fall still again. Fighting is a waste of his energy; he'd established as much days ago. And he can tell that when it comes to Ruby, his energy is far better conserved. She has no reason to torture him for information, he supposes, but he had stood in her way, stood between her and Sam on more than one occasion. He wonders if she holds that against him. Probably. Demons are, if anything, less predictable than humans, and Castiel has had enough difficulty with them.
If his expression had been tired before, it takes on a new effort of resistance, gathers his strength to look defiant for a moment or two. His head still aches, but if he can squint through the sparking lights behind his eyes, he can defy her, no matter what her reasons are. Perhaps she will kill him, he wonders. He doubts she'll set him free, considering what he might have to tell Sam and Dean. He could stop them, prevent this. Perhaps she doesn't know, in which case he's not in a hurry to tell her. There might be a fight here after all.
He raises his chin minutely, preparing himself. ]
Your kin were not particularly good at their task. [ It was a lie, and even if not for the demon's efforts, which were inscribed all over his chest in cuts from his angel blade, Heaven had done a better job by far. ] Not that you had the chance to ask them, before you killed them, but I told them nothing.
[ But perhaps he shouldn't have implied that there was anything to tell. ]
Have you come to cut me down?
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Then again, neither did she because she made a habit of leaving loose ends free to potentially disrupt the whole plan, and now they're so close. She's sacrificed so much, worked so hard, waited so long, and now it's finally within reach. She can't jeopardize that. This calls for a bit of a bluff, a face she's used to putting on for the Winchesters. It's hard to imagine this stone-faced soldier trying to con her, but she's wary. ]
The odds of me getting anything useful out of them versus one of them getting away and running off to tattle on me? Not good, princess.
[ It's an unusual reversal for someone else to be on the chopping block, with her being the one standing over them with a blade. That's not to say that she's never been in this position, obviously, but it's been a long time. She doesn't count the demons she trapped with Sam. Those were for him, after all, with her usually only stepping in to cut them off when they started prattling on uselessly.
Or inconveniently. ]
Should I? Last I checked we were on the same team. Sort of. I mean... [ She saunters closer until she's close enough to reach out and stroke a few fingers lightly up the middle of his chest, deftly working around the cuts, in a gesture that's almost soothing. ] Pretty much the only reason you or Chuckles didn't smite me was because I wasn't worth your time, right?
[ Uriel had seemed to consider Sam's preoccupation with her to be less damning than the association with their fallen, literally disgraced angel, which had been an odd, if useful distinction. ]
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She was holding his blade. He had to risk his life on it. His eyes flickered down, however, as she came into touching range: because touching range was stabbing range, and because it was unexpected, made his body jerk briefly underneath the unexpected almost ticklish sensation prickling across his skin. He snapped his gaze back up to her, but it was too late. Strange. He expected pain. Pain was something he understood. This was different.
He shook it off as best as he could, attempted to regain his footing on the conversation, almost blundering out that they had clearly been wrong, misled. His mouth opened to form the words, but he closed it tight again, eyes narrowing instead.
She wasn't going to unsettle him. Certainly not with...with gentleness. ]
You were...helpful.
[ Sure. That was totally all it was. He doubted that was the reason now, doubted it with a fierce dislike that curled in his belly. Heaven had misled him, misled them, held him, and the Winchesters, and whoever else who stood in their way, up as sacrifice. The thought angered him visibly, his teeth clenching. ]
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I'm sorry this took forever ._.