It was an odd job but really was there such a thing as a normal job? They had gotten a call from Trudy, one of dad’s contacts, said there was a hot piece of ass over in Orange County that was healing people. Sam thought that was a good thing, people need healing, but a stripper healing people? That couldn’t be good. Not with how these sorts of things always came with a price.
They were close enough, only a few states over, so they drove over. The club Trudy had mentioned was called Lazarus House and it looked like the kind of dive that dirty and somewhat illegal strip clubs were housed in. Dean dropped Sam off at the library to research things that could heal people and would want to be a stripper, even though Bobby was researching things from home for them as well.
Sam had smiled when Dean said he’d go to the club alone. That was the best thing about this job, it was taking place in a strip club. Actual strippers!
It had been a while since he’d seen a strip tease other than in his dreams and in porn, and really he didn’t want to get a hard on in front of Sam. This was his first chance in a long time.
So he showed up before the sun went down, a bit earlier than most, whatever. That gave him time to find a good seat and get a drink in him before the show.
There were three stages and one of them was occupied, a not so young wiggling around on it as if she was the hot thing that her customers wanted. She had only two people in her audience and they had already had a lot of drinks.
There was a woman at the bar that Dean would have much preferred to be on the stage, but she looked at him like she was used to people thinking that and continued to clean her glass. He asked for a scotch on the rocks, nothing too fancy but nicer than usual, and she almost rolled her eyes as she poured for him.
Amongst the bottles and glasses was a sign with the schedule. “Angel Night” was written up in big red letters. Dean’s lip twitched into a smile. Angels, hm. He hadn’t seen Cas in a while, maybe he’d call him. Not from a strip club though, that would just be uncomfortable.
“So when’s the main attraction?” Dean smiled at the bartender as she slammed his drink down in front of him, already in a mood.
“I don’t think you’ll like it.” She groaned, “But maybe you will. It’s a bit hypnotic. Half an hour.”
He nodded and wondered about that. If the angel of the evening was the healer and they were hypnotic, maybe that was it. Maybe they took things from their audience in order to heal someone. That sounded like something than needed to be ganked and to be honest his fingers were itching for a good ganking.
He winked at the bartender, which got him an audible groan, and headed towards center stage. If this girl was as good as he’d heard she’d had center, be on display. He nursed his drink without paying much attention to the woman, much too old to still be doing this, writhing on the stage beside him.
The club started to fill up though, truckers and bachelors and leather clad bikers filling in the seats. Most of them headed to sit at the secondary stages, but they still had a good view of the center one. Dean wondered if he had chosen wrong but then the lights went down and the music got louder. It was something terrible and poppy and obnoxious but Dean could picture someone dancing to it.
What he wasn’t expecting on center stage was a man. He was dark wand wearing a priest’s robe, collar and all. Dean tried to look at him, see the guys features before he turned his head to look at the girls (seriously who would want to see a guy strip?) but then he noticed the guys shoes. They were just poking out from under the hem but they were shiny and reflective, pumps with tall stiletto heels.
The bartender was right. This was a bit hypnotic.
The guy turned around, wiggling his hips and grabbing onto the robe, tearing it off. It was obviously designed to be torn away and Dean gasped at the after effect. So did most of the rest of the room, even though they were supposedly watching the girls. Dean didn’t even know what the girls looked like.
Under the robe the guy was wearing fishnets, which rode halfway up his thighs before meeting garters. He had shiny black booty shorts on and a mesh shirt, so Dean couldn’t see what the garters connected too. He did know why it was called Angel Night though. Without the robe there were two white Victoria Secret style wings and they fell open magnificently on the guys back.
They fit him, somehow.
He grabbed the pole and swung down, ass almost to the floor. He swiveled his hips and wow, Dean was hard. He wouldn’t admit it, not to Sam or anyone, but this guy, his lithe body, his runners legs, the muscles rolling under the shirt and wings, they had him half hard already. He wasn’t even nude yet and maybe that was why Dean could like it. Because guys were gross.
He spun around the pole, hooking a leg and his hand around it and Dean looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face. He saw a smile, bright white teeth and too much gums, but nothing more. He could tell that the guy was pale and had dark features, but that was about it.
And his eyes fell and stayed there. The guy was looking over the audience, walking away from the pole, and Dean’s eyes were stuck on his crotch. The guy was sporting an erection to his strip tease! Dean didn’t think that was possible, being that turned on just by dancing for a room of horny men. But his cock was curved into the space allowed to it by the tight shorts and it looked painfully constrained.
He moaned as he ran his long narrow fingers down over it, seemingly giving Dean the show alone. He wasn’t though, he hadn’t even seen Dean yet. But then he was undoing the button and zipper on his shorts and Dean was so fixated that he didn’t even notice that his hand had fallen to his own crotch.
There was a flash of lace and another light moan and then the guys turned precariously on one stiletto, heading back to the pole. He bent forward, ass high in the air before he lifted his legs, doing a handstand and spreading his legs. One hooked around the pole and he bent, wrapping the other around it as well. He lifted himself up horizontally on the bar and there was no way anyone should be that strong, not with a runners body like that.
But there he was, horizontal on the bar and Dean noticed that the shorts were much like the robe, meant to be torn off. There had been no reason for him to unzip, nothing but to give a tease. He tore them off now though and Dean was at full alert. His cock slammed into his zipper, forced hard and confined. He wanted to whip it out, get himself off because this guy, he was wearing a lacy black thong and garter belt. His ass was perfect, clenched and tight, the muscles lines in the round shapes.
He turned and his cock was peeking out from the top of the thong, red and smearing precome onto the garter belt.
But then his eyes fell on Dean and he finally saw him. He didn’t stop dancing but he did say Dean’s name in combination of surprise, hope, and terror.
Dean jumped to his feet, face flushed, and practically tore out of the strip club.
He was in the Impala, four blocks away when he finally called Sam, “Sam? I know what we’re dealing with.” He didn’t want to say though, didn’t want to think about how hard he had gotten while watching, shame was filling him throughout. It came out as a whisper, “It’s Cas, Sam. I found Cas.”
It was the next day when they returned. The sign in the bar said “½ off lapdances” not “Angel Night”, so Dean was sure that they wouldn’t be caught up in watching Cas dance. He hated the fact that he’d been so turned on by that, by his friend, dancing up on the stage like he belonged up there. Where had he even learned to move like that?
They saddled up to the bar and the bartender groaned, “What do you want now? I told you you wouldn’t like it.”
“Where is he?” Dean ordered. “When he’s not working, where is he?”
“What?” she chuckled. “You don’t seem the type.”
“Nothing like that.” Sam butted in, he sounded more calm for once, “We’re friends with the guy, possibly his only friends. He went missing over a month ago. We just want to talk to him.”
She cocked her hips and placed her hands on them, “Look I’m not supposed to say anything so I won’t.”
She did pull out her note pad though and started writing. “I get off at six. If you want to pick me up, we could, like, do a date or something.” What she said made no sense, but she glanced up at one of the cameras without pausing. Everything in the club was more controlled that it probably should have been, “Here’s my address and phone number.” She slid the paper over to Sam with a smile, “Don’t lose it.”
He smiled back, folded the paper, and put it in his back pocket, “Yeah, six, awesome. I’ll see you then.”
He patted Dean on the shoulder and they walked out of the club.
They had only gone a few steps before Sam was unfolding the paper and reading it over. “Oh God.” He muttered, teeth gritted. Dean stole the paper from him and read it over.
“Mike pimps his girls out. Cassie is no different. Office, 3rd door down in basement. One week until Cassie’s auctioned off.”
“Shit!” Dean growled, crumpling the paper in hand. Cas was going to be a prostitute? Or maybe he already was. There was something haunted in his features when Dean had finally looked up at him. They’d have to get him out of that basement immediately.
There was a way into the basement from the back. It wasn’t hard to dismantle the alarm either; Dean was able to take care of that with only rudimentary tools. It was the emergency exit, so it wasn’t like it was locked or anything.
The basement was actually pretty nice. There was carpet down and some erotic artwork on the walls that Dean would have enjoyed if it weren’t for the job. As it was he was listening, intent, trying to hear anything that might give the mysterious Mike away.
There weren’t any guards or anything, no security, just dressing rooms along one side. Every once in a while a few girls would pop out, sometimes dressed sometimes not, but they didn’t seem to notice the Winchesters. If they were there, they must have been invited.
The third door from the stairs must have been what the bartender meant. Sam’s gun was out first, in his hands and aimed down. Dean pulled his out too as he hid behind the door, opening it slowly. From the inside it looked like the door had opened on its own. There were some low grunts from inside, breathless gasps and wet sliding. Dean did not want to see the cause of that.
“You can come in!” a man chuckled, “I won’t bite. He may but I certainly won’t.”
The brothers looked at each other, not so sure as to what was happening. They lowered their guns though, keeping them in hand as they stepped into the doorway.
Mike was sitting in a swivel chair Cas kneeling before him. He had a thin face and too much stubble. He looked like greasy cliché.
Cas, on the other hand, was wearing the same wings he’d worn the day before, but they were paired with a corset and matching panties instead. His head was down ad bobbing. There was an old looking collar around his neck and he did not hesitate at sucking Mike off as the Winchesters entered.
“Leave him alone.” Dean ordered. He’d hoped that Cas would react to his voice at least, but no, he seemed to swallow Mike deeper instead. Dean brought his gun back up. “Leave him alone or I swear to god I’ll shoot out what little heart you have.”
Mike chuckled again, a deep whiny sound but Cas was on his feet, finally, wiping his face of the saliva that was dripping down it. “You will do no such thing.” He rumbled and when he looked up at Dean his eyes were glowing, and there was rage and power in his face. The wings against his back fluttered, as did his hair, as the wind picked up, circling around the room. Cas was hard, not just in his stance, but he was once again erect and Dean couldn’t understand how something like Cas could be brought so low, could get off on sucking off this creep.
The room lit up, brightening as Cas’s wings appeared, dark shadows at his back. It was different from the first time Dean had seen them, larger, darker, like they were too large for the room.
And he would admit that he was frightened.
“Back to work.” Mike pointed back at his erection, winking over at Dean, “I think they’ve got the message.”
The room darkened and the wings vanished. Cas swayed slightly before turning, falling back to his knees between Mike’s legs. Everything returned to how it was when they’d first entered the room.
“See? Cassie here will protect me, no harm can come to me when he’s here.” Mike explained as if he wasn’t choking and angel with his erection. “So I wouldn’t even try if I were you.”
“This is sick.” Sam muttered. Dean could hardly speak. His throat was closing, filling with bile. Mike’s fingers were running through Cas’s hair, not like a lovers would, but like a man who has a guard dog before him and doesn’t care. Just keeps touching to show that he is in charge of it.
“Sick?” he thrust deeper into Cas’s throat, making him gag, “How is this sick? One of you, not sure which, has wanted to do this to him, I’m sure. One of you must have promised at some point that he wouldn’t die a virgin. Besides, he likes this.”
Dean swallowed, his throat burning. “He can’t like this.”
Mike tugged on Cas’s hair, pulling him up slightly. He smiled down at him. “Tell them what you told me.”
Cas didn’t turn to look at the Winchesters, he just pulled off of Mike’s cock and spoke to it, while Mike stroked the red flesh. “I like it here. Here I can’t mess up, I can do no wrong. I like obeying orders and I am good at this. I am appreciated and when I do miracles they are seen as such.”
Mike stroked himself harder, faster. Cas did not pull away.
“You can’t like this.” Dean’s fists were trembling. “You can’t! It’s sick, it’s wrong. You’re an angel of the lord you son of a bitch. You aren’t supposed to be tempted by pleasures of the flesh or any of that crap! You’re supposed to be better than this.”
Mike tensed and Cas didn’t move as he came, his face staining with his owners semen. Dean turned, not able to even watch as he sat there, fake wings drooping behind him, Mike finally relaxing.
“Where’s your bathroom?” was all he could ask. He couldn’t stand to see any more.
“Next room over.” Mike smiled, “You gonna jerk off, tough guy? I see it was you who promised.”
Dean didn’t grace him with an answer. He almost ran to the bathroom and didn’t leave until his guts were empty of bile. Sam waited for him outside. Neither one of them said anything until they got to the motel room.
“Hello Dean.” The voice was unsure, gravelly and far away but Dean jumped at the sound of it anyway, staring over at Cas, standing by the window. He was drunk, terribly so, and he must have fallen asleep. There was no way Cas would be there, wearing his coat, staring out the window like nothing had happened.
“Hey, Cas.” He slurred.
The angel scratched at his neck, where the collar was. It looked a bit too tight, cutting in at the skin. He turned though and he looked like he would vanish. Like there was nothing he wanted more than to be far away.
“I’m sorry.” He said in his far away voice.
“Sorry?” Dean asked but Cas was in front of him, on his knees, right next to the bed. He was wearing his coat, yes, but under that there was his outfit from the strip club. And he was erect, just like before. Dean doubted he’d even touched himself.
“For what I’m about to do.” Cas reached out, taking the button of Dean’s pants in his hands. He was opening them up, moving them aside, mouth open and lips puffy. Dean almost wanted it in his still, half drunk state, wondered how great Cas’s mouth would feel wrapped around him.
But he couldn’t. His fingers were in Cas’s hair, holding him back and still and making him look up at Dean. “What is this? Is this Mike trying to buy me off?”
Cas shook his head as best as he could. “There was nothing to buy you off, Dean.” Cas explained, “He sent me here to shame you.”
“He thinks that if I come here, do this, well you already think it’s sick, are already disgusted by me. This is, how would you say, the last nail in the coffin. You’ll be so appalled, in yourself as well as me, that you won’t be able to look me in the eye after. You won’t try to save me.”
But Cas just looked away, turned his eyes and closed his mouth. There was sweat forming on the angel’s brow, which shouldn’t have been possible, and his lips were starting to tremble. He looked wrecked.
“You don’t want to do this, right?” Dean asked, “He’s controlling you. You should have called me, Cas. You should have called for help.”
“I couldn’t ask you for help.” Cas closed his eyes. He was growing pale. He looked sick, human.
“Yes, you could have, Cas. There’s no shame in asking for help.”
“You don’t understand.” Cas reached up, finally taking his hands away from Dean’s jeans, and touched at the collar. “I couldn’t ask.”
“The collar. He’s controlling you with the collar, right?”
“I can’t say.” His lips were shaking violently, his hands trembling. “Please Dean, I have to do what I’ve been told.”
Dean let go of his hair and found that that was what had been holding Cas up. He fell forward, hands scrambling on the floor to keep himself upright.
“You don’t have to do anything, Cas. You can fight this. His control on you. “ Dean ran his fingers along Cas’s jaw, feeling the angel press against him, lean into the touch. He’d never touched Cas like this. He’d tried not to touch Cas so much and now, maybe he should have touched Cas more. “You’re a friggen angel of the lord, for god’s sake! No one can control you.”
But Cas wasn’t much of an angel from this and that was obvious. The shaking grew worse and he fell forward, throwing up on the motel floor. Dean barely had time to pull his feet out of the way. Then the was on his knees on Cas’s side, stroking his back, staring at him. He knew how wide his eyes were, how worried he looked.
“Side effect.” Cas gasped, wiping the bile from his lips, “This is what happens if I disobey.”
“If we do this” Dean leaned forward, rested his forehead against Cas’s , trying not to breathe in his breath, “I won’t be ashamed of you. I know you don’t want to do this, that it’s against your wishes, but if you have to, I will be here for you. Mike doesn’t know us, he doesn’t know that I’ll do whatever I can to get you out.”
“Why?” Cas’s voice cracked and his eyes closed, “I’m not family. I’m not anything.”
“You’re my friend Cas.” Dean undid his pants the rest of the way. He wasn’t hard but that was okay. He may not have wanted to do this, but neither did Cas. It just had to be done. “I owe you, okay?”
Cas bowed his head and he looked so conflicted. For the lack of emotion he usually showed this was a torrent of faces and none of them were good. Dean remembered how Mike had touched Cas’s hair, so unaffectionate, so much like an owner than someone who cared. Dean cared.
His hands were soft in Cas’s hair, touching his jaw, touching everything. All he could do was touch and guide Cas, hope that the angel wouldn’t throw up on him.
Cas opened his mouth, ready to swallow him down, ready to do what he was sent for.
Dean’s fingers trailed down. He could see where the clasp was on the collar. If he could just unclasp it Cas would be free. That’s how it had to work. There was nothing else he could think of.
He had barely touched the leather when his wrist was seized. Cas grabbed it and twisted, forcing Dean around so that the limb was behind him. He looked over his shoulder, tried to look at Cas but Cas’s eyebrows were down, his eyes that glowing blue that came from all his power.
“You can’t touch.” Cas growled and then he threw Dean up against the wall. The plaster cracked and Dean’s head was bleeding, his forehead cut open from where it collided. He turned, saw Cas standing there, wings projected on the walls. It wasn’t as powerful as before.
“I’m sorry.” The power faded and Cas looked like he would collapse. He was so weak, using up so much of his strength to protect that damned thing.
Then he was gone. He faded away. Dean stared in the place he had stood, touching the cut on his head. His wrist ached, everything ached.
He had to get Cas out of there.
Sam didn’t come back to the motel room for almost another hour and he found Dean scrubbing the floor, bandaged up, trying to get up as much of the bile as he could. When he asked, Dean told, and they knew they were dealing with a cursed object now.
Dean still hurt, but that didn't matter. They knew what they were dealing with now.
Cursed objects were deceptive. They normally gave you great gifts at first, but there was always some sort of deadly consequence. Bobby had looked up the collar, had figured it out. It had belonged to Countess Elizabeth Bathory, who had used it to control a general so he would kidnap virgins for her. Didn't turn out so well when he was ordered to tell the truth and he therefore did and got her arrested. Or when he broke into her cell and killed her.
The thing was, an order could be taken too literally or not literally enough, there was enough leeway in it for the controlled to rise up.
Dean just hoped that Cas had figured that out.
They broke into the strip club that night, picking the lock and sneaking through. There were no bouncers, no girls, no one walking the halls and they weren't so sure they could actually save Cas this way. There had been a cot in Mike's office though, so he did spend at least some of his nights there. There was a chance that they could kill him in his sleep and free Cas.
Sam opened the door to the office, the only light coming from the sleeping computer. He flashed his light inside and, yes, Mike was there, sleeping on his side. He stepped in, gun out, ready to fire.
But there was a hand on his shoulder and it pulled, tearing him out of the room and crashing him into his brother. Cas was there, staring at them, one eye swollen closed with purple and green bruises. There was a secondary collar around his neck, made up of finger shaped bruises.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed, "I thought I made it clear that you should not help me."
"C'mon Cas." Dean muttered, trying to ignore the bruises, "You know we're not so good at listening."
Cas was close to him, very close, their noses almost touching. "He told me to kill you on sight Dean. I have no choice in this. You should have stayed away."
"Cas." Dean kept his attention on him, eyelids fluttering so he was looking at his friend through his eyelashes. That seemed to catch his eye and he was staring almost wistfully as Sam snuck his fingers around his neck.
"I don't want to hurt you."
Sam tugged on the leather of the collar, pulling it through the clasp. The tooth was still trapped in the hole but it was a start and it was all Sam could do before Cas's eyes were glowing and his wings were showing again. He grabbed Sam's wrist, twisting until Sam was screaming and there was a loud crack. Then he tossed Sam aside, throwing him against Dean's chest.
The door slammed shut and there was a locking sound. Mike had woken up. He was probably hiding in there, cowering, thinking Cas would protect him, well not this time.
Dean pulled himself up, checking Sam only for a second before he was rushing to Cas. The angel had drawn his blade from who knows where and he looked like he was serious. Like he really was going to kill them and he didn't care anymore.
Dean fired. He shot Cas in the shoulder, in the chest, in the hand holding the blade. None of the shots did anything. He wasn't even distracted by it. Dean gritted his teeth and changed tactics. He raced towards him, throwing his gun. This time Cas moved, dodging it easily but it got Dean in. He was close and he pulled the tooth of the clasp out of the collar before he felt the wet easy slide of the blade in his ribs. His eyes were wide and he was gasping, clutching at Cas. It wasn't a death blow, but it hurt, fire coursing through him.
Cas's eyebrows were knit in apology, his free hand on Dean's shoulder as he pulled the blade out. He had to do this, he had been ordered to, but hurting, killing the men in his charge, it was too much.
Dean's lip was trembling and then he was falling back, clutching at the wound, the blood dripping from his fingers. He sank to his knees and Cas wanted to be there, wanted to fall beside him, wanted to heal him and make everything right. He couldn't though, not with his orders.
Sam surprised him, his left hand gripping the leather of his collar and tugging. Cas flung out his leg, catching Sam in his ribs, shattering three of them as he kicked him. Sam flew off, crashing against one of the walls before sliding down it.
He unclenched his fist.
The collar fell to the ground.
Cas's eyes flickered, as did his wings. He was like a lightbulb dying, a moth clutching to a bug zapper, static. He flashed bright and then faded to darkness.
He fell to his knees, looking more human than he ever had before. He touched Dean's cheek, looking pained as he healed the wound he had dealt. It was the last thing he could do before he collapsed, landing in Dean's lap, unconscious.
Cas was free.