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Description
Corruption
A SPN fanfic

{Warning: language, shipping (aka man/man) and violence ahead.}

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Chapter One

Four Months Earlier

THEN

It used to wonderful. It used to be wholesome, used to be beautiful.

Dean’s life used to be awesome, or at least that during period of time when the Earth was no longer in danger, when he and his brother weren’t perpetually on the run from God-knows-what or struggling to fight an ruthless enemy with cataclysmic intentions. When the Winchesters were safe and problems and warriors of perdition and nirvana were miles behind them.

It was then that Dean Winchester’s life was finally peaceful.

Sam, Dean, even Cas had all decided to slam the door on that bloody chapter of their lives- deciding that if they were gonna live past forty that had to call it quits. For good. It had been one of the hardest decisions Dean had ever made, because besides the fact hunting was all he ever knew, he had accepted a while ago that when he died he was gonna die young, in a bloody fight with a gun in hand- trying to save yet another innocent life from the jaws of a hellish creature or ghost. And turning his back on all those people who were still being dangled in front of monsters like worms on a line was definitely one of the more selfish choices he’d made.

But the Winchesters had done their part. Sacrificed more than enough to earn a long, calm break from the blood and the death and the pain. They’d lost nearly everything but each other keeping the world from plunging into flaming oblivion, and they were done. Out of the business. Retired. Monster hunting for them was over.

But like the end of every chapter or story there’s always a loose end.

That loose end happened to lurk in wait, until their guards were down and they were at a point where pain would hurt the most. It waited until it could finally bite them in the ass.

And bite them in the ass it did.

It was true that Dean’s life had a tendency to spiral from complete happiness to utter shitstorm, and often it wasn’t his fault- but this was something he should have seen coming, something he should’ve anticipated and prepared for. But in his rare, overwhelming period of happiness, his let his guard lower and turned off his hunter mind. And then it happened- his life was plunged into a dark pit and he got dragged down with it.

It had been a warm, blissful night in June. The house where Cas, Dean, and Sam lived was small, but cozy out in the middle of forest in nowhere Kansas. The house had been abandoned and practically falling apart, but with a little TLC (as Sam so girlishly put it) it had become a home- a safe haven for the ex-hunters.

Cas and Dean had finally kindled a relationship after a month of living together- and honestly, Dean couldn’t even remember what spurred the dive for Cas’s affections if he tried. All he knew is one day- luckily alone in the kitchen- Cas said something that made Dean lunge forward and plant his mouth on his like a crazy fangirl would upon seeing their favorite TV star. He remembered Castiel practically shutting down with shock for half a second, and suddenly they were on the frickin’ roof of their house and Castiel kissed Dean back so passionately he thought he would melt into a absurdly happy puddle- that or fall off the roof.

Because, even though it still escaped him, Castiel felt the same. The fucking same. It was the greatest thing to ever happen to Dean, and to be honest every single person who knew them breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief when they made their relationship public. In fact, Sam’s first words were “It’s about freakin' time, you two.”

Cas and Dean couldn’t have agreed more.

Dean wouldn’t lie- being with Cas, an angel of the Lord, was no friggin’ picnic. On top of being completely virgin (in every sense of the word) in all aspects of a relationship, he was often detached emotionally and sometimes irritated Dean to no end with simple lack of consideration. But Dean knew it wasn’t his fault- the fact the poor bastard could deal with his emotions for the Winchester without combusting was a blessing. And now it really was okay that Cas annoyed him sometimes- because there was makeup sex. (Yeah, yeah, plus they could always forgive each other out of the undying love in their hearts but for Dean he practically looked forward to their next fight so they could get hot and heavy).

Damn, for a angel virgin Cas was good in the sack.

Sam was only just getting back into the dating scene with strong encouragement from Dean and Cas (well, encouragement from Dean and small agreeing grunts from Cas) before the small apple pie slice of paradise shattered for them.

That night, that goddamn night in June, was when their old life came back with a vengeance.

Dean and Sam had just gotten back from a late grocery run because Dean had the craving for Chinese food. The house was quiet, as usual, and the lights were off. Dean wasn’t bothered by this, however- Castiel didn’t need light to see (he was like a freakin’ bat) and the summer sun was just setting in the pink-violet sky. He remembered Sam pausing at the door with a perplexed look on his face.

“What?” he’d asked, relatively unconcerned but constantly aware of his brother from years of honed hunter instinct. The younger Winchester had just shaken his shaggy head, his furrowed eyebrows lining his forehead.

“There’s...I feel like I’m missing something.” Although it escaped them at the time, Sam later realized it was the incessant noise of the cricket chirping- or rather, the lack of it. The night, normally alive with wildlife activity, had been completely silent. “Musta forgot something I wanted to get at the store.”

“You mean the cashier lady’s number?” Dean asked, his eyebrows leaping annoyingly around on his brow. Sam rolled his eyes while Dean opened the door with a free hand, one arm clutching white bags of food. “She was undressing you with her eyes the whole time- even gave you flirty look when she scanned our meat. Our freaking meat, dude.”

Sam grimaced. “Um...no. Just no. She was like...mid to late forties and-”

“I thought you went for the more experienced gal, Sammy,” Dean replied with a chuckle, stepping inside and chucking the Impala keys on a small table to the side.

“Shut up,” Sam retorted lamely, unable to keep a laugh out of his voice. His smile, however, quickly faded from his face. His eyes widened in shock. “Dean...”

His brother’s muscles locked down after hearing Sam’s voice drop to a cautious whisper. Expression turning stone cold, his hazel eyes darted around the living room. He surreptitiously set down his grocery bags, sliding his pistol out of his pocket and giving Sam a knowing look. His brother mimicked his movements, drawing out his knife and steadily walking towards the hallway leading into the dining room. He eyed what alerted him in the first place with concern- a scarlet smear of blood, slathered across the wall like a child had been let loose with a paintbrush.

For the first time in a long time, Dean felt the stirrings of panic in his gut, scraping and clawing its way to his heart. Stay calm, keep your head. But all that played in his mind was a slideshow of his worst nightmare- a crumpled form, skeletal wings scorched black, beautiful blue eyes staring at nothing- STOP! Dean shoved down the hysteria. To bury his worry, he starting thinking about what he was gonna do to the jackass who broke into his house.

It wasn’t gonna be pretty.

Sam crept down the hallway corner, stiffly stepping over a body lying facedown in a pool of sticky blood. Leading into the dining room, Dean took point and covered all sides of the demolished dining room. There were a few more bodies found in the wreckage of the dining room table.

That’s my Cas, he thought humorlessly, a sick feeling growing as the body count tolled higher. The table was smashed and the lights were blown out of their socket, spreading pieces of broken glass across the room that cracked underfoot. Chairs were broken and blood stained the once beige carpeting.

But what really pushed Dean off the edge was something much more shocking.

Dean’s knees felt weak upon seeing the hundreds of charred, blackened feathers lining the ground. They were long and at one time sleek and the inky color of an oil slick, but now were practically ashes, as if someone had taken a lighter and lit each one on fire. They weren’t burned into the ground like that of a dead angel, rather scattered around the room like nightmarish confetti. Dean’s stomach dropped and his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Oh God,” Sam whispered. What could’ve done this?

Dean nearly fell to his knees, buckling and kneeling in front of the cascaded remains of angel wings. He tenderly scooped up a singed feather, cradling it in his hands like it was Castiel himself. Dark blood stained the burnt black quill and the realization stabbed Dean in the chest like a white-hot poker. The feathers looked like they’d been ripped out as well, feather by feather, and he felt a dizzying wave of nausea. Dean delicately brushed a finger across the soft down at the bottom of the feather, feeling his eyes prick with angry, scared, horrified tears.

“Cas?” he gasped suddenly, feeling desperate for air. He jerkily got to his feet, still holding the feather, and looked wildly around the room. Castiel’s body was not in the room among the broken and dead. Sam hurried down the hallway to check the rest of the bedrooms, face overwhelmed with worry.

“Cas! CASTIEL!” Dean’s voice was a scream now, terror coiling in his chest up into his throat until he felt like he was suffocating. Cas! he prayed. Where are you?! I'm here, please, come back! His heart beat frantically in his chest, each thump sending a wave of new pain through him as the lump in his throat grew larger. His widened eyes burned and a trickle of a tear leaked down his cheek, and Sam came back into the room with a tight shake of the head.

“He’s not here,” Sam said hurriedly. “That’s- that’s good, right? Means he’s still-” Sam’s voice broke off upon seeing the devastation on his brother’s face. Crystalline tears were steadily dripping down the older Winchester’s face, and his red eyes were unfocused.

“They did this to him, Sammy,” he whispered, as if he hadn’t heard a word of what Sam said. “They ripped out his wings- feather by fucking feather.” He turned to his brother, face crumpling. “They tortured him. And I wasn’t here. I. Wasn’t. Here! I didn’t help him- I didn't protect him, GODDAMMIT!” His voice became shrill in hysteria, and Sam stumbled forward, placing both hands on his older brother’s shoulders.

“Dean-” he started quietly, but Dean’s shoulders trembled and jerked away. Sam didn’t let him, clamping his fingers tightly on his shoulders. Dean’s eyes lost focus again, staring at nothing.

“I should’ve protected him! I should’ve stayed-” His voice stumbled and he had to swallow hard to even force the next words out. “He’s gone. They took him, Sammy. They took him away- away from me.”

“Dean,” Sam whispered, voice twisted in grief at seeing his brother so destroyed. “We’ll get him back. Wherever they took him...we’ll find Cas.”

“Damn right we will,” Dean whispered, voice growing grim and hardening. He sniffed, straightening his spine. His tone grew dark, menacing, and his expression became a cold slate. His hazel eyes blazed with fury. “And when we do...whoever took him will wish they’d stayed in hell. Because it’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to them.”

xxxx

Description
Corruption
A SPN fanfic

{Warning: language, shipping (aka man/man) and violence ahead.}

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Chapter One

Four Months Earlier

THEN

It used to wonderful. It used to be wholesome, used to be beautiful.

Dean’s life used to be awesome, or at least that during period of time when the Earth was no longer in danger, when he and his brother weren’t perpetually on the run from God-knows-what or struggling to fight an ruthless enemy with cataclysmic intentions. When the Winchesters were safe and problems and warriors of perdition and nirvana were miles behind them.

It was then that Dean Winchester’s life was finally peaceful.

Sam, Dean, even Cas had all decided to slam the door on that bloody chapter of their lives- deciding that if they were gonna live past forty that had to call it quits. For good. It had been one of the hardest decisions Dean had ever made, because besides the fact hunting was all he ever knew, he had accepted a while ago that when he died he was gonna die young, in a bloody fight with a gun in hand- trying to save yet another innocent life from the jaws of a hellish creature or ghost. And turning his back on all those people who were still being dangled in front of monsters like worms on a line was definitely one of the more selfish choices he’d made.

But the Winchesters had done their part. Sacrificed more than enough to earn a long, calm break from the blood and the death and the pain. They’d lost nearly everything but each other keeping the world from plunging into flaming oblivion, and they were done. Out of the business. Retired. Monster hunting for them was over.

But like the end of every chapter or story there’s always a loose end.

That loose end happened to lurk in wait, until their guards were down and they were at a point where pain would hurt the most. It waited until it could finally bite them in the ass.

And bite them in the ass it did.

It was true that Dean’s life had a tendency to spiral from complete happiness to utter shitstorm, and often it wasn’t his fault- but this was something he should have seen coming, something he should’ve anticipated and prepared for. But in his rare, overwhelming period of happiness, his let his guard lower and turned off his hunter mind. And then it happened- his life was plunged into a dark pit and he got dragged down with it.

It had been a warm, blissful night in June. The house where Cas, Dean, and Sam lived was small, but cozy out in the middle of forest in nowhere Kansas. The house had been abandoned and practically falling apart, but with a little TLC (as Sam so girlishly put it) it had become a home- a safe haven for the ex-hunters.

Cas and Dean had finally kindled a relationship after a month of living together- and honestly, Dean couldn’t even remember what spurred the dive for Cas’s affections if he tried. All he knew is one day- luckily alone in the kitchen- Cas said something that made Dean lunge forward and plant his mouth on his like a crazy fangirl would upon seeing their favorite TV star. He remembered Castiel practically shutting down with shock for half a second, and suddenly they were on the frickin’ roof of their house and Castiel kissed Dean back so passionately he thought he would melt into a absurdly happy puddle- that or fall off the roof.

Because, even though it still escaped him, Castiel felt the same. The fucking same. It was the greatest thing to ever happen to Dean, and to be honest every single person who knew them breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief when they made their relationship public. In fact, Sam’s first words were “It’s about freakin' time, you two.”

Cas and Dean couldn’t have agreed more.

Dean wouldn’t lie- being with Cas, an angel of the Lord, was no friggin’ picnic. On top of being completely virgin (in every sense of the word) in all aspects of a relationship, he was often detached emotionally and sometimes irritated Dean to no end with simple lack of consideration. But Dean knew it wasn’t his fault- the fact the poor bastard could deal with his emotions for the Winchester without combusting was a blessing. And now it really was okay that Cas annoyed him sometimes- because there was makeup sex. (Yeah, yeah, plus they could always forgive each other out of the undying love in their hearts but for Dean he practically looked forward to their next fight so they could get hot and heavy).

Damn, for a angel virgin Cas was good in the sack.

Sam was only just getting back into the dating scene with strong encouragement from Dean and Cas (well, encouragement from Dean and small agreeing grunts from Cas) before the small apple pie slice of paradise shattered for them.

That night, that goddamn night in June, was when their old life came back with a vengeance.

Dean and Sam had just gotten back from a late grocery run because Dean had the craving for Chinese food. The house was quiet, as usual, and the lights were off. Dean wasn’t bothered by this, however- Castiel didn’t need light to see (he was like a freakin’ bat) and the summer sun was just setting in the pink-violet sky. He remembered Sam pausing at the door with a perplexed look on his face.

“What?” he’d asked, relatively unconcerned but constantly aware of his brother from years of honed hunter instinct. The younger Winchester had just shaken his shaggy head, his furrowed eyebrows lining his forehead.

“There’s...I feel like I’m missing something.” Although it escaped them at the time, Sam later realized it was the incessant noise of the cricket chirping- or rather, the lack of it. The night, normally alive with wildlife activity, had been completely silent. “Musta forgot something I wanted to get at the store.”

“You mean the cashier lady’s number?” Dean asked, his eyebrows leaping annoyingly around on his brow. Sam rolled his eyes while Dean opened the door with a free hand, one arm clutching white bags of food. “She was undressing you with her eyes the whole time- even gave you flirty look when she scanned our meat. Our freaking meat, dude.”

Sam grimaced. “Um...no. Just no. She was like...mid to late forties and-”

“I thought you went for the more experienced gal, Sammy,” Dean replied with a chuckle, stepping inside and chucking the Impala keys on a small table to the side.

“Shut up,” Sam retorted lamely, unable to keep a laugh out of his voice. His smile, however, quickly faded from his face. His eyes widened in shock. “Dean...”

His brother’s muscles locked down after hearing Sam’s voice drop to a cautious whisper. Expression turning stone cold, his hazel eyes darted around the living room. He surreptitiously set down his grocery bags, sliding his pistol out of his pocket and giving Sam a knowing look. His brother mimicked his movements, drawing out his knife and steadily walking towards the hallway leading into the dining room. He eyed what alerted him in the first place with concern- a scarlet smear of blood, slathered across the wall like a child had been let loose with a paintbrush.

For the first time in a long time, Dean felt the stirrings of panic in his gut, scraping and clawing its way to his heart. Stay calm, keep your head. But all that played in his mind was a slideshow of his worst nightmare- a crumpled form, skeletal wings scorched black, beautiful blue eyes staring at nothing- STOP! Dean shoved down the hysteria. To bury his worry, he starting thinking about what he was gonna do to the jackass who broke into his house.

It wasn’t gonna be pretty.

Sam crept down the hallway corner, stiffly stepping over a body lying facedown in a pool of sticky blood. Leading into the dining room, Dean took point and covered all sides of the demolished dining room. There were a few more bodies found in the wreckage of the dining room table.

That’s my Cas, he thought humorlessly, a sick feeling growing as the body count tolled higher. The table was smashed and the lights were blown out of their socket, spreading pieces of broken glass across the room that cracked underfoot. Chairs were broken and blood stained the once beige carpeting.

But what really pushed Dean off the edge was something much more shocking.

Dean’s knees felt weak upon seeing the hundreds of charred, blackened feathers lining the ground. They were long and at one time sleek and the inky color of an oil slick, but now were practically ashes, as if someone had taken a lighter and lit each one on fire. They weren’t burned into the ground like that of a dead angel, rather scattered around the room like nightmarish confetti. Dean’s stomach dropped and his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Oh God,” Sam whispered. What could’ve done this?

Dean nearly fell to his knees, buckling and kneeling in front of the cascaded remains of angel wings. He tenderly scooped up a singed feather, cradling it in his hands like it was Castiel himself. Dark blood stained the burnt black quill and the realization stabbed Dean in the chest like a white-hot poker. The feathers looked like they’d been ripped out as well, feather by feather, and he felt a dizzying wave of nausea. Dean delicately brushed a finger across the soft down at the bottom of the feather, feeling his eyes prick with angry, scared, horrified tears.

“Cas?” he gasped suddenly, feeling desperate for air. He jerkily got to his feet, still holding the feather, and looked wildly around the room. Castiel’s body was not in the room among the broken and dead. Sam hurried down the hallway to check the rest of the bedrooms, face overwhelmed with worry.

“Cas! CASTIEL!” Dean’s voice was a scream now, terror coiling in his chest up into his throat until he felt like he was suffocating. Cas! he prayed. Where are you?! I'm here, please, come back! His heart beat frantically in his chest, each thump sending a wave of new pain through him as the lump in his throat grew larger. His widened eyes burned and a trickle of a tear leaked down his cheek, and Sam came back into the room with a tight shake of the head.

“He’s not here,” Sam said hurriedly. “That’s- that’s good, right? Means he’s still-” Sam’s voice broke off upon seeing the devastation on his brother’s face. Crystalline tears were steadily dripping down the older Winchester’s face, and his red eyes were unfocused.

“They did this to him, Sammy,” he whispered, as if he hadn’t heard a word of what Sam said. “They ripped out his wings- feather by fucking feather.” He turned to his brother, face crumpling. “They tortured him. And I wasn’t here. I. Wasn’t. Here! I didn’t help him- I didn't protect him, GODDAMMIT!” His voice became shrill in hysteria, and Sam stumbled forward, placing both hands on his older brother’s shoulders.

“Dean-” he started quietly, but Dean’s shoulders trembled and jerked away. Sam didn’t let him, clamping his fingers tightly on his shoulders. Dean’s eyes lost focus again, staring at nothing.

“I should’ve protected him! I should’ve stayed-” His voice stumbled and he had to swallow hard to even force the next words out. “He’s gone. They took him, Sammy. They took him away- away from me.”

“Dean,” Sam whispered, voice twisted in grief at seeing his brother so destroyed. “We’ll get him back. Wherever they took him...we’ll find Cas.”

“Damn right we will,” Dean whispered, voice growing grim and hardening. He sniffed, straightening his spine. His tone grew dark, menacing, and his expression became a cold slate. His hazel eyes blazed with fury. “And when we do...whoever took him will wish they’d stayed in hell. Because it’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to them.”

xxxx