Chapter Text
“I want to talk to him,” Castiel said.
Benny looked into the rearview mirror.
“Who?”
“Dean.”
“Ah.”
They were driving back from Castiel’s bi-monthly visit with his mother. It had not gone well. It never went well, but this time it had been particularly bad.
Naomi was talking about grandchildren again. Particularly Castiel’s children because heaven knew Lucifer wasn’t owning up to his. If he had any, which he vehemently denied.
Castiel had never been able to explain to her, in a way that her generation could understand, that she was not going to get any grandchildren from Castiel. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find a wife- it’s that he wasn’t looking for one.
The sixth time Naomi mentioned her wonderful new friend from book club who oh by the way had a lovely daughter and wouldn’t Castiel like to come have supper with them some night Castiel had given up and blurted out that he had bought a male slave.
Naomi had gaped and frowned and gone silent, and puzzled it through in her head, and for a moment, Castiel thought that she might finally understand.
And then she came to some conclusion in her head and explained that Rachel’s daughter wasn’t anti-slavery and so there was no reason that Castiel couldn’t bring his new acquisition to supper if he so chose.
Castiel was very very tired and he wanted to go home and look at the photos of Dean and take a nap. But the photos had taken a sour tone for him. He couldn’t shake off the look on Dean’s face and it was bothering him.
“Can I send you there? With a phone?” Castiel asked. Benny looked like he was going to turn around in his seat.
“You must be really gone on this guy if you’re gonna make an actual phone call.”
“I was planning on texting him.”
“And you don’t think Crowley’s place would get him a laptop if you called and asked?”
Castiel frowned. They might. But then, the laptop would belong to the facility. And there might be someone else there in the room with Dean, telling him how to answer- if it was even Dean on the phone at all.
Castiel was aware that he was being rampantly paranoid. He had a tendency to do that sometimes and back when he’d gone to a therapist, it had been something they’d worked hard to overcome. Castiel went through the facts in his head. Crowley’s facility had an incredible reputation. He’d heard nothing but positive things from other owners- as well as people who had trained there. The staff seemed well-informed regarding their stock, and the slaves themselves looked healthy and well cared for.
In Dean’s photos, he didn’t look malnourished or sickly. There were no bruises or lacerations that would indicate that he was being abused. His hands were cuffed- but only for the photo shoot. And the cuffs looked comfortable and well-fitting. And Dean wasn’t being asked to do anything particularly strenuous or painful. There was a toy in his anus, but it didn’t look particularly large.
In short, there was no reason to assume that Dean was being mistreated. And furthermore, there was no reason to believe that the facility would intentionally try to hide the mistreatment from Castiel.
“I want you to go over this afternoon,” Castiel said. He could feel Benny struggling not to say something. He knew about Castiel’s paranoia, and he’d called it out before.
This time though, it seemed he was willing to humor his owner.
~~~~~
Dean was spacing out on his pillow when he got the summons.
Immediately, he was gripped with terror. Ketch had dropped the maintenance spankings in favor of random and increasingly painful scenes. Dean never knew when they were coming or what they would be- only that complying made Ketch happy, and disobeying made him angry.
Dean couldn’t help but glance over at Ketch- but his trainer seemed as surprised as he was. He gestured with his hand, giving Dean permission to go.
The woman who had come to fetch it didn’t provide any additional information- just led him down a hallway and into a small room. It was dimly lit with floor lamps, and contained a number of upholstered chairs.
Seated in one of the chairs was the largest man that Dean had ever seen.
Dean faltered, but quickly regained his composure. He scanned the room and located a thick pillow just to the side of one of the chairs. He knelt down on it, nodding to the man in the chair.
“If you need anything else, I’ll be just outside the door,” the young woman said. Then she retreated, leaving the two of them alone.
“You’re Dean?” the man asked. He was older than Dean- in his late forties maybe. He had some kind of accent but Dean couldn’t place it yet.
“Yessir,” Dean answered. He didn’t look up. He wasn’t supposed to look at owners unless he’d been invited to do so. This guy looked like an owner, even if he wasn’t Dean’s owner.
Dean’s owner would know what he looked like- right? Had the guy bought him sight unseen?
“Yeah, that tracks,” the guy said. Dean could feel the guy looking him over. He still didn’t look up.
It occurred to him that this might be another one of Ketch’s tests. That this guy might order him to strip and bend over one of these chairs. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Dean was terrified of being raped again. It would probably be in Ketch’s best interests to make sure he wouldn’t freak out the minute it looked like he might get fucked.
“Here,” the guy said. Dean glanced up. The guy was holding out a cell phone. Slowly, Dean took it.
There was a single text message on the screen.
Hello Dean.
Dean glanced up at the guy.
“What do I do?”
“Say hello, probably,” the guy said. He looked like he was watching a toddler learn to walk. Dean scowled. He knew how to text people- he just wasn’t sure why this guy wanted him to.
Hello?
Instantly, the phone indicated that the other person was typing.
How are you?
Dean had no idea how to answer that. How was he? Been better, if he was being perfectly honest.
Who are you? he typed instead.
Castiel Novak. I bought you. Did they not tell you my name?
They did. I just wasn’t expecting to meet you via text message.
I’m sorry. I’m bad on the phone and I wasn’t sure I could justify a personal visit.
Dean frowned at the phone. Couldn’t justify a personal visit? What the hell did that mean? The guy had more money than god. If Dean had two and a half million to blow on getting laid, it wouldn’t even cross his mind to justify anything to anyone, ever.
Dean did not say this.
He stared at the phone, questions running through his head. Was the guy really a sadist? Was Dean going to spend the rest of his servitude in a basement rape-dungeon somewhere? Ketch was careful never to leave marks on him- was that a universal thing? And why, why had he bought someone like Dean, only to have him emasculated? Was it a punishment? Had he heard about the incident in the elevator?
Dean did not ask these things. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know the answer. He took a deep breath. What would Ketch tell him to say?
What can I do for you?
~~~~~
Castiel stared at the phone, his stomach turning around in knots.
His slave was nothing but polite- if confused about the purpose for the conversation.
Castiel bit his lip. What had he pulled Dean away from? Dean was still recovering from surgery- had he been resting? Had Castiel pulled him out of class? Was he even taking classes yet, or was he still on bed rest?
Castiel did not ask these things. He was painfully aware that these were things he probably should know.
What can I do for you?
Castiel wasn’t expecting that question. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected at all. For Dean to fall at Benny’s feet and beg for rescue?
There was some small part of him that was certain that Dean would be arrogant, resentful. That the moment Castiel made contact, Dean would scream at him that he was a monster; that he had no right.
I wanted to check on you, Castiel said truthfully. He didn’t have the ability to play games or make innuendo. Is your recovery going well?
As well as can be expected. I hope you’re happy with the result.
Castiel had no doubts there. What he’d seen in the photos was more than enough to reassure him.
Are you taking classes yet?
This time the response took longer to come. Castiel started to worry that he’d said something wrong.
I have a personal instructor. He seems confident that I’ll be able to do what you want.
I have no doubt, Castiel said honestly. They seemed very competent when I toured the facility the day I bought you. It seems like a nice place.
Food’s good, came the replay. Castiel smiled. He wondered what kind of food Dean liked. He’d have to let Anna know immediately.
Do you want anything? he asked. He was sure that the facility provided for all of Dean’s needs, but there might be something he wanted once he came home.
A date with the masseuse they’ve got working here, Dean said. It took a long time for him to type. Castiel smiled. Dean was joking, of course, but the fact that he was comfortable and happy enough to do so meant that Castiel had been paranoid after all.
I’ll see what I can arrange, he typed back. Give the phone back to Benny.
Will do.
No more messages came through, which meant that all had gone well for Benny, in getting in and out of the facility. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been imagining all the trouble after all.
He didn’t like the thought of Dean being mistreated- even the thought of his own preferences gave him a twinge of guilt in his belly.
He’d always assumed that they would be impossible- that anyone as beautiful as Dean would have to have restrictions on their contract. No sex. No modification. Castiel had stayed out of facilities like Crowley’s for years, in part because he was certain that he would be met with a wall of judgement and denial.
And then to find someone like Dean, the first time he’d looked.
Castiel smiled, and went back to his work.
~~~~~~
Dean wasn’t sure what to expect when he got back to Ketch’s office. He entered without knocking and went quickly to his pillow.
Ketch almost immediately turned his attention to the kneeling slave.
“What was that all about?”
“I guess... my owner wanted to talk to me,” Dean said. Ketch’s eyebrows went up.
“And?”
“He asked me how I was doing,” Dean said, frowning. “And apparently he only talks via text message.”
Ketch leaned back, nodding.
“He may be hard of hearing. Many of our older clients are. It’s usually not much of an issue- he didn’t buy you for the conversation, after all.”
Dean looked down. He tried not to think about how old ‘Castiel’ might actually be. The name sounded archaic. What if the dude was like ninety years old?
“He asked me if I wanted anything,” Dean added, remembering suddenly.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said I was doing alright,” Dean said. He relaxed further back onto his heels. “I mean, I didn’t complain or anything.”
“Good,” Ketch said. “I know you have a difficult time with your training on occasion, but everything we’ve done falls within the constrains of both the law and your personal contract.”
“I know,” Dean said quickly. He didn’t want to hear this lecture again. “I didn’t tell him about what we’ve been doing. I mean, I said I had a trainer but I didn’t mention the stuff that you’ve been introducing me to. I know you’re going out on a limb with it, as it is.”
“I appreciate that. Many owners enjoy the ‘firsts,’ as it were... but they also have a higher rate of placement rejection. The line I walk is a narrow one.”
Dean said nothing, not quite having it in him to commiserate with Ketch’s professional woes.
He had problems of his own.