Chapter Text
It had been over an hour since Castiel had arrived, and Crowley had not stopped talking once.
The man seemed determined to discuss everything except the reason Castiel was actually there.
Castiel sat in his chair, expression carefully neutral as Crowley rambled on about market trends, new developments, and the countless people he apparently considered important enough to name-drop.
All Castiel wanted was to go home.
Unfortunately, Castiel wasn't here for a social visit.
Crowley leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of coffee.
"And that's why I think the company should focus more on commercial investments over the next quarter. The returns are much more reliable."
"Well, I'm glad to hear your thoughts on the matter," Castiel said.
He wasn't.
"But I'm here for something else, and I think you know that."
Crowley's smile widened.
"Oh, Castiel. Can you be any more straightforward?"
I can.
If Castiel acted upon his "too straightforward" nature, he wouldn't have spent the last hour listening to Crowley's bullshit.
Instead, he folded his hands together on the desk.
"Let's get this over with. Your payment is due tomorrow, and you still owe me over two hundred thousand dollars. I don't think we can continue our partnership this way."
Crowley's expression barely changed.
Castiel expected as much.
Truthfully, he had wanted to end their partnership for months.
At first, it had seemed like a smart business decision. Crowley's influence in the real estate market was significant, and working together had opened a few doors thanks to Crowley's vast connections.
Then Castiel had learned where some of Crowley's money came from.
Questionable connections. Questionable deals. Ones that might involve human trafficking through the slave trade.
None of it was technically enough to involve law enforcement, but it was enough to leave a bad taste in Castiel's mouth.
Ever since then, he'd been looking for a reason to walk away.
Crowley smiled as though they were discussing the weather.
"You know I intend to pay you, Castiel. I simply need an extension."
Castiel said nothing.
"And it wouldn't be wise for you to end our partnership." Crowley tilted his head slightly. "A rather large risk, if you ask me."
The words were delivered pleasantly.
The threat beneath them wasn't.
Castiel met his gaze without hesitation.
"I think I'll take my chances."
Truthfully, Castiel didn't care much about the business.
It was useful, certainly, but only because it gave him the cover he needed to maintain his position without attracting too many questions.
The money meant nothing to him at all, but it was how this world worked, so he had to play by the rules.
"Well, aren't you stubborn, Castiel?" Crowley said.
Castiel merely stared at him.
"I have a deal to offer you," Crowley continued before Castiel could reply.
Castiel already disliked where this was going.
"I can give you a good slave in exchange for a lengthy extension on the payment. It would strengthen our partnership."
"I don't need any more slaves," Castiel replied instantly.
He really didn't.
Especially not from Crowley.
Castiel had learned enough about the man to suspect that some of his slaves had been bought through illegal channels.
Not that the legal channels were much better.
The entire system left a bitter taste in his mouth.
People who had sold themselves "willingly" because they had no other choice.
People sentenced by the courts and stripped of their freedom with the stroke of a pen.
It was cruel, but at least it operated within the law.
But trafficking was so much worse.
Children kidnapped from their parents.
People who disappeared and were never seen again.
Human beings sold through the black market as if they were nothing more than property.
"He's not like them. He's a stunning beauty," Crowley said. "Just as filthy as all the other slaves, but his mouth feels like heaven. You won't regret taking him."
Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
He didn't want a mouth that reminded him of heaven.
He didn't want a slave at all.
And he was about to say exactly that when Crowley suddenly raised his voice.
"Hey, bitch! Get your ass down here!"
Castiel's first thought was to get up and walk away.
If this was Crowley's idea of convincing him, it was having the opposite effect.
But that thought was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps.
Someone came running down the stairs.
A man.
Or perhaps a boy.
Castiel wasn't entirely sure.
He looked young.
He nearly stumbled on the last few steps before catching himself. A thin robe hung from his shoulders, barely covering his body. In one hand, he held a cleaning cloth.
"Yes, Master," the boy said, lowering his head.
He was trembling.
Castiel frowned.
"Come here," Crowley ordered.
The slave obeyed immediately, crossing the room and dropping to his knees beside Crowley's chair.
"Do him."
Crowley gestured toward Castiel.
Without hesitation, the boy crawled forward.
Two steps.
Then he reached for Castiel's belt.
All of it without lifting his head.
Without even looking at who he was supposed to be serving.
As if it didn't matter.
Just another master.
Another man to obey and serve.
Castiel caught the man's outstretched arm before he could go any further.
The boy froze instantly.
His entire body tensed beneath Castiel's touch.
Frowning, Castiel wrapped his hand around the slave's wrist and finally took a closer look at him.
Bruises.
Everywhere.
Some were old, faded into sickly shades of yellow and green. Others were newer, dark and angry against pale skin.
The boy was skinny.
Far too skinny.
His wrist felt almost fragile in Castiel's hand, more like a child's than a grown man's.
And from what Castiel could see beneath the thin robe, the bruises didn't stop at his arms.
They covered most of his body.
His stomach twisted.
Then Castiel focused on something else.
He intended to read as much as possible before the slave inevitably panicked.
Soul.
Body.
Blood.
Energy.
A quick glance, nothing more.
He let out a breath and closed his eyes to concentrate.
The boy's soul aura was tortured.
Grief.
Rage.
Despair.
The emotions surrounded him so heavily that Castiel wasn't surprised by them.
Anyone living under Crowley's ownership would carry scars deeper than bruises.
His energy was weak, almost too weak to properly read.
His body told its own story, covered in injuries both old and new.
But it was the blood aura that made Castiel pause.
It was familiar.
Strangely familiar.
The feeling struck him immediately.
As though he had seen it before.
As though he knew this person.
Castiel frowned.
That was impossible.
He would remember.
He doesn't forget.
The boy's trembling suddenly intensified.
Castiel looked down.
The slave was shaking so hard it seemed he could barely stay upright.
Realizing how tightly he was still holding him, Castiel loosened his grip and let go.
Immediately, the boy pulled his arm back.
"No need for that," Castiel said, directing the words at Crowley.
"So, what do you think?" Crowley asked. "Isn't he pretty?"
Castiel snorted.
As if he had even seen the boy's face.
The slave had been too terrified to lift his head from the moment he'd entered the room.
All thanks to you, assbutt.
The thought almost escaped his mouth.
Something told him that insulting Crowley right now would only make things worse.
"I don't care about that, Crowley. And as I told you, I don't need another slave."
It wasn't a lie.
He felt bad for the boy.
More than he should.
But he couldn't take responsibility for another broken soul right now.
Especially not one who might not have even entered the system legally.
Crowley let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Get up, bitch."
The rage in his voice made Castiel's shoulders stiffen.
The slave scrambled to his feet so quickly he nearly lost his balance. His entire body was shaking as he moved to stand in front of Crowley.
Then, without warning, Crowley raised his hand.
The slap echoed through the room.
For a moment, it felt loud enough to shake the entire house.
The boy hit the floor.
A small sound of pain escaped him, muffled and quickly swallowed down.
Like he wasn't even allowed that.
Like crying out would somehow make it worse.
Castiel's jaw tightened.
Crowley grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair and yanked his head back.
"Go to the playroom and wait for me there," Crowley said.
"Get out of my face right now."
Then he released him.
The boy's head struck the floor with a sickening thud.
Immediately, he stumbled to his feet.
Obedience had become instinct.
A reflex. Something his body did before his mind could even catch up.
"Wait."
The word left Castiel's mouth before he could think better of it.
The boy froze.
Absolutely froze.
He looked genuinely horrified.
His wide green eyes darted between them.
Between Crowley's order and Castiel's.
Caught between obeying his master and obeying a stranger.
As though choosing wrong would end in disaster.
Shit.
You don't need a slave, Castiel.
Then why was this so difficult?
Why was he so affected by human emotions?
Why did the sight of this terrified stranger make it impossible to simply stand up and walk away?
"Okay. I'll take him."
The words left Castiel's mouth before he could stop them.
Oddly enough, he felt a little better once they were out.
Because if he gave himself another minute to think, he probably would have talked himself out of it.
Crowley smiled.
No.
Smirked.
Castiel hated that expression.
To distract himself, he looked at the slave instead.
The boy was staring at him now, eyes wide with terror.
For the first time, Castiel could properly see his face.
Delicate features.
A pretty face.
One that would probably look even better if it were clean.
"Oh my," Crowley said, sounding amused. "Now you've changed your mind?"
Castiel didn't answer.
"Did you like how obedient that bitch is?" Crowley continued. "He's trained, I can promise you that. He can be difficult sometimes, but I'm sure you'll handle him just fine."
The satisfaction in his voice made Castiel want to leave even more.
"Now tell me, partner," Crowley said, leaning back in his chair. "How much do I still owe you?"
Castiel frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Crowley gestured toward the slave.
"It's exactly the same amount." Castiel's voice shifted automatically into the cold, professional tone he used for business. "You said you would give me the slave in exchange for an extension, not a reduction of the debt."
Crowley clicked his tongue.
"But now he must be worth some reduction, right?"
"That would only apply if I were the one asking for him." Castiel held his gaze. "You're the one offering him."
The smile disappeared from Crowley's face.
Shit.
Why did everything have to become more complicated?
Castiel couldn't care less about the money itself.
But he had other partners.
People who would question every detail if the numbers suddenly stopped making sense.
"Well, well." Crowley spread his hands. "Then the extension will have to be indefinite."
"You know I can't do that."
"I'm sure you'll find a way to manage it somehow," Crowley insisted.
Castiel took a slow breath.
Then he looked back at the slave.
The boy's head had dropped again.
Eyes fixed on the floor.
Silent.
Waiting.
It must be horrible, Castiel thought, to stand there like an object, listening to people negotiate your future while having absolutely no say in it.
He wanted this conversation to end.
The longer it continued, the worse it felt.
"Okay," he said eventually.
Crowley dismissed the slave and went to retrieve the paperwork.
A few minutes later, he returned carrying a folder.
Castiel took it and quickly went through the purchase records.
Every previous owner was listed.
At least officially.
That didn't mean much.
Records could be altered.
Names could be falsified.
Crowley had more than enough connections to make inconvenient details disappear.
Still, the paperwork appeared legitimate.
For now.
Castiel signed where necessary, set down the pen, and got to his feet.
"Call him. I should get going."
He felt as though he had spent an eternity in this house.
"Why don't you stay the night?" Crowley asked. "It's past eleven. Driving this late is dangerous."
The concern in his voice was so fake it was almost insulting.
Castiel opened his mouth to protest.
"Come on," Crowley continued. "It's only until morning. The slave is probably asleep by now anyway."
Castiel let out a long sigh.
He didn't want to stay.
But neither did he want to wake the boy and drag him into a six-hour drive through the dark.
Reluctantly, he nodded.
Crowley looked pleased with himself.
Of course he did.
A few minutes later, he was shown to a guest room.
Castiel removed his trench coat, loosened his tie, and set aside his belt.
He kept his shirt and pants on.
The room was quiet.
For the first time all day, he felt exhausted.
An unusual feeling.
Just a few more hours and you'll be out of here.
That thought brought relief.
With another soul to take care of.
That thought brought something much closer to dread.
He wasn't sure when exactly he drifted into thought, but sometime after two in the morning, there was a knock at the door.
Before he could answer, the door opened.
The slave stepped inside.
He stopped beside the bed with his head lowered.
And waited.
Several seconds passed.
Then a full minute.
The boy remained motionless.
"Do you need something?" Castiel finally asked.
The slave visibly startled.
"Mas... Master Crowley sent me to... to take care of you."
His hands immediately moved toward the tie of his robe.
"No."
The word came out faster than Castiel intended.
The boy froze.
His hands stopping mid-motion.
"You can keep your clothes on," Castiel said quietly. "I don't need that."
He deliberately lowered his voice.
The last thing he wanted was Crowley overhearing them.
Hadn't Crowley said the boy was asleep?
Apparently not.
"Oh."
The slave swallowed.
"Do... do I go back to serving Master Crowley, or stay here for you?"
His voice shook badly.
Castiel frowned.
"You were serving Crowley before coming here?"
The boy's eyes widened.
"Yes, Master, but... but he said he was done with me. I swear he sent me. I didn't come on my own."
The boy looked terrified that he might somehow be accused of disobedience.
Meanwhile, a completely different emotion was building inside Castiel.
Anger.
Crowley had sold him.
And still used him afterward.
How low could one person sink?
Originally, Castiel had planned to send the boy away until morning.
Now he didn't want Crowley anywhere near him.
"It's okay," Castiel said.
The slave blinked.
"Come here."
Castiel gestured toward the empty side of the bed.
The boy approached on shaky legs and stopped beside it.
He didn't sit.
Simply stood there waiting.
Waiting for permission.
Castiel felt another twist of sadness.
"Sit."
Immediately, the boy obeyed.
"Listen carefully," Castiel said. "You're going to sleep here until morning. You will keep your clothes on. I don't need anything from you, and I don't want your services. So stop worrying about me and try to get some sleep."
The slave looked completely lost.
As though none of those instructions made sense.
Still, he nodded.
"Yes, Master."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Castiel never slept.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he sat quietly.
His instincts screamed at him to heal the boy's injuries.
The bruises.
The cuts.
The damage hidden beneath the robe.
But he couldn't.
He had promised himself he wouldn't do that anymore.
Not after the last time.
Tomorrow he would call a doctor.
Someone who could help without raising questions.
Hours passed.
The room remained silent except for breathing.
Castiel knew the boy wasn't asleep.
Not for the first two hours.
His breathing never settled enough.
At exactly six in the morning, the slave jolted upright.
Like an alarm had gone off inside him.
His eyes immediately darted around the room.
"Should I start my morning chores?"
The question hit Castiel harder than it should have.
The boy still felt responsible for Crowley.
Even after being sold.
"No."
The slave looked confused.
"Pack your things. We're leaving."
The boy immediately obeyed.
A short time later, Castiel stood by the front door waiting.
When the slave finally returned, he carried only a small duffel bag.
Nothing else.
Apparently that was all he owned.
Before they could leave, Crowley appeared.
"Did you have fun?" he asked with a slimy smile.
Castiel felt his jaw tighten.
"No."
He looked Crowley directly in the eye.
"But I know you did."
The venom in his voice was impossible to miss.
Crowley laughed.
"It was just a goodbye gift to the bitch."
At that moment, the slave moved toward the door.
As he passed, Crowley grabbed the back of his neck.
The boy instantly went rigid.
"Be good for your new master," Crowley said. "Or I'll put a bullet in your stupid head."
Castiel moved before he could think.
He stepped forward and pulled the boy out of Crowley's grip.
"He is not your concern anymore, Crowley."
Without waiting for a response, he guided the slave toward the door.
"Already possessive, I see," Crowley called after them.
Castiel ignored him.
"One piece of advice. If the bitch starts acting up, use a belt. He responds very well to them."
The slave flinched so hard at the mention of the belt.
Castiel didn't reply. He simply walked away, straight to the car.
He opened the passenger door.
The slave hesitated.
Then looked down at the floorboard.
"Do I sit there?"
Castiel stared at him.
Then gently pushed him into the passenger seat.
The boy looked shocked.
Castiel closed the door and started the engine.
Only after Crowley's house disappeared from the horizon did Castiel finally break the silence.
"What's your name?"
The answer came immediately.
"Bitch."
Castiel tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"No. Your name."
The boy looked down.
"You can call me anything you want, Master."
Castiel wasn't sure if that was obedience or defiance.
Maybe the boy didn't know either.
He sighed.
This was going to be a very long drive.
Several seconds passed.
Then he heard a tiny whisper.
"Dean."