The Damage Done, Part 1/2
Please see the master post for warnings
It was supposed to be the showdown to end all showdowns.
But Castiel couldn’t help but muse as he stood there, holy oil Molotov cocktail at the ready, that they were a pretty sorry looking bunch for would-be saviours of the world. Team Free Will indeed.
After he attacked Michael and Lucifer turned his attention on him, his eyes murderous, Castiel had been certain that that was it. He was done for. But then the rage faded from Lucifer's expression and it looked more contemplative, like he was studying an interesting specimen under a microscope.
And then a cruel smirk, so out of place on Sam’s face, twisted his lips. “No, I think I have a better idea for your punishment, little brother.” He snapped his fingers, and Castiel felt awareness slip away.
When he regained consciousness, he was lying on a bed. He blinked in confusion at the ceiling for a moment before suddenly trying to sit up, panic seizing him. But he was stopped when he discovered that his wrists were tied tightly to either corner of the headboard. He yanked at them in frustration, but in his weakened, nearly human state, it was useless.
“Feeling a little… impotent, little brother? What a shame.” The voice startled him, drawing his attention to the doorway. Sam stood there, smirking at him. Only it wasn’t Sam, of course. It was Lucifer.
Castiel grit his teeth, dozens of questions circling through his mind. What had happened? Where were Dean and Bobby? What had become of Michael? Had the battle taken place? Was it… over? But then… why was he even still alive? He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings, some sense of where he was. It seemed to be a hotel room, though a considerably nicer one than the Winchesters usually frequented.
“Confused, little brother? I don’t blame you,” Lucifer said, approaching the bed and sitting down at Castiel’s side. It was… alarmingly intimate. Castiel stiffened, his bound hands clenching into fists. Lucifer merely smiled, staring at him as if he were a particularly fascinating science experiment. “You’re so… weak. So fragile. It’s endearing. Poor little angel, cut off from Heaven for disobedience. You’re little more than one of them now. But don’t worry. I still have a use for you.” He trailed fingers down the side of Castiel’s face. Castiel jerked away, uneasiness coiling in his stomach.
“What… what happened? Where are the others?” he asked, wincing at the weakness in his voice. Lucifer suddenly grabbed his face in an iron grip, the smile disappearing from his lips.
“That’s not really any concern of yours, now is it? But if you must know, Michael is dead. I fought my brother as I was destined to. But I was the one who prevailed. I killed Michael because I had no choice. It brought me no joy. But this world is mine, now. Along with all of Hell. And soon, Heaven, too.”
Castiel stared at him in horror. It couldn’t be true, could it? But then what about…? He suddenly felt cold all over. No. Dean and Bobby couldn’t be dead. Not Dean…. Lucifer seemed to sense what he was thinking, a cruel smile spreading across his face again, even as his grip tightened, his fingers digging bruises into Castiel’s flesh.
“Oh, are you worried about your little monkey friends? That’s so cute. Don’t fret, they’re still alive. For now. They scurried off while I was occupied with Michael. But if they dare try to make any move against me, I’ll crush them. Them and anyone else foolish enough to try.” Relief so intense it took his breath away washed over Castiel. Dean was alive. Dean and Bobby both. There… there was still hope if they were alive. Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “You have such faith in them, little brother. I can see it in your eyes. But it’s for nothing. You think they can do anything to stop me? Especially now that I have defeated Michael? Tomorrow, I march on Heaven, flanked by legions of demons. Any angel that does not bow down to me will meet Michael’s fate. It’s all mine now. And that includes you, little brother.”
“I’ll never bow down to you, Lucifer,” Castiel snarled. “You may as well just kill me.” His death seemed inevitable. Lucifer was far too strong for him to fight alone. But he was not afraid. He had been true to his own will until the end. It hadn’t been for nothing. Dean was alive. There was a chance, however slim it might be, that the free future that Dean had envisioned might still come to pass.
“Oh, no, little brother. I have something special in mind for you,” Lucifer purred, leaning down so that his face was only inches from Castiel’s. His fingers loosened their punishing grip and were suddenly stroking Castiel’s face again, a parody of gentleness over the abused flesh. “This vessel of yours, I find it… intriguing. It is not unattractive, as these monkeys go. I see no reason why I shouldn’t… indulge, so long as I am in a vessel myself.” His grin was lascivious, his intent unmistakable.
“No!” Castiel cried, jerking again at his bound hands, shaking his head in both denial and a futile attempt to escape Lucifer’s attentions. Icy fear washed through his veins. No. Not that. Anything but that. Lucifer threw his head back and laughed, looking for all the world like Sam enjoying a rare, carefree moment. The juxtaposition made the whole situation seem even more surreal, like even more of some kind of twisted nightmare. And then Lucifer was climbing up onto the bed, straddling his thighs and working Castiel’s belt free from his pants. “Don’t… don’t do this,” Castiel pleaded.
“Now, now, little brother, I think I’m being quite merciful, giving you this new purpose in life when you’ve been such an annoyance. You should feel honoured,” Lucifer purred, throwing the belt aside and ripping Castiel’s pants open, the sound of fabric tearing obscenely loud in the room. Within moments he’d stripped Castiel of his pants and boxers, leaving him naked from the waist down. Lucifer leaned back, smirking down at Castiel as he opened his own jeans, pulling his cock - Sam’s cock - free.
“No, no, no, no…,” Castiel moaned, closing his eyes. Unsurprisingly, Sam’s cock was just as impressively large as the rest of him. He kept pulling at his bonds, even knowing how pointless it was. He could feel wetness at his wrists from where the ropes had abraded his skin but it barely registered. He just wanted to get away. Suddenly his legs were being pulled up and yanked apart and Lucifer was right there, shoving inside of Castiel’s body with no preparation whatsoever. Castiel couldn’t hold back his scream, the tearing, burning pain overwhelming him, so much worse even than he could have imagined. His body thrashed convulsively, but Lucifer bore down, his superior size and weight easily holding him down, even if he hadn’t been tied to the bed.
“Open those pretty eyes, little brother,” Lucifer murmured, pausing in his movements, balls-deep in Castiel’s ass. “Sam has wanted to do this to you for such a long time. You wouldn’t deny him the full experience, now would you? I want him to see everything.” Castiel shuddered, clenching his eyes more tightly shut and shaking his head in denial. It was a lie. Of course it was. It had to be. The fact that it was Sam’s body doing this to him, violating his own so intimately, made it so much worse. But even just the thought that Sam was aware, that he had to go through it, too. That… that was too much.
“I said open your eyes!” Lucifer hissed, his voice suddenly angry. A heavy blow landed across Castiel’s face, snapping his head to the side. He cried out, blood filling his mouth from where teeth had mashed against skin. He was hit again and again, the onslaught not affording him a chance to obey, until finally Lucifer fisted a hand in his hair, yanking his head back. “LOOK AT ME!” Dazed, Castiel opened his eyes, pain pulsing through his face, and gazed up at him. Sam’s handsome face was twisted with rage, a cold fire burning in his eyes. They were truly Lucifer’s eyes. “That’s it, little brother. We both want the full experience,” he sneered. And then he started to move.
Castiel wondered if this was what going into shock felt like.
Each thrust of Lucifer’s - of Sam’s - body drove the air from Castiel’s lungs and a choked cry past his lips. His battered face throbbed in counterpoint to the frantic beating of his heart. There was wetness sliding down the crack of his ass. Blood. Things were being torn inside of him.
Lucifer’s hand was still fisted tightly in his hair, almost pulling it out by the roots and preventing him from turning his head. But he couldn’t bare the sight of Sam’s face, twisted with anger and lust, so he let his gaze drift past it. He noted numbly that his feet looked pretty ridiculous, waving around stuck straight up in the air from where his legs were hoisted over Lucifer’s shoulders. Dean would laugh if he saw me like this.
No. Probably not.
A particularly brutal thrust wrested another scream from him, and he instinctively shut his eyes against the sharp pain. Lucifer growled, releasing his hair to deliver another powerful blow to his face. Castiel thought he felt his cheekbone break. His eyes popped back open, staring straight up into Lucifer’s. And Lucifer grinned down at him, a twisted, feral grin that was frighteningly out of place on Sam’s face. He didn’t dare tear his eyes away as the thrusts intensified until Lucifer finally came with a satisfied grunt, spilling his seed into Castiel’s body.
Lucifer lay motionless for awhile, panting from exertion, his weight crushing Castiel into the mattress. Freed from his gaze, Castiel stared up at the ceiling. He’d never felt such pain. Physical or… otherwise. He didn’t know how to even begin to process it. Finally, Lucifer shifted back, pulling his cock free. It was a sickening sensation. Castiel was ashamed of the noise that rose unbidden to his lips. Lucifer leered.
“Oh, yes. I think I’ll be keeping you, little brother.” With that he touched his fingers to Castiel’s forehead, and the world went away.
When Castiel woke again he was tied to a different bed in a different room. He felt dazed, groggy. Somehow he knew that more than just a few hours had passed. Days, maybe.
He was completely naked, a state that was completely new to him in his vessel. It made him feel very vulnerable. Which was undoubtedly the point.
His body ached. Awful, throbbing pain in his face, in his wrists, in… other places. He ached, deep down inside his very core.
Finally it registered that Lucifer was standing at the foot of the bed. Smiling. Castiel’s bound hands clenched into fists, his breath catching in his lungs. Lucifer’s smile widened.
“You’ll be very pleased, little brother, to hear that my march on Heaven went quite well,” Lucifer said. Castiel’s eyes widened in horror. “And now it’s time to celebrate.”
“What… what happened?” Castiel rasped. The pain in his face blossomed with new intensity when he moved his jaw.
“No need to worry your pretty little head about the details, little brother,” Lucifer cooed. “You have more immediate concerns to worry about.” Castiel blinked at him, terror racing through his veins. “Now that we’ve… broken the ice, so to speak, we can spend more quality time together.” It was only then that Castiel noticed the long, cylindrical object he was holding. “Humans call this a stun baton,” Lucifer said with a grin, brandishing it like a sword. “These monkeys you care for so much certainly are clever at coming up with interesting ways to hurt each other, little brother. And yet they call me evil.” He laughed as he came around the bed, drawing closer. Castiel tensed, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He wanted to run or fight or do something, anything but lie there helpless. But that’s what he was. Helpless. “Now, I understand that this often renders humans unconscious, their primitive brains quite unable to handle the pain. Especially with, uh, repeated application.” Castiel closed his eyes, turning his head away. “But don’t worry, little brother. Despite your weakened, fragile state, I won’t let you fade out. I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the fun.” Castiel felt the baton jab into his ribs, and then everything was white, blinding pain.
He screamed, his back arching off the bed as waves of electric charge assaulted his senses. He’d never felt anything like it before, pain sizzling along every nerve in his body. After what seemed like an interminably long time, the baton was finally withdrawn, and Castiel collapsed back against the bed, gasping for breath. Lucifer’s laughter echoed in his ears.
“Okay, I confess, I may be amping up its charge a little. Delightful, isn’t it?” The baton touched his hip next, and once again sharp pain lanced through Castiel’s body. Lucifer kept up the contact longer that time, causing Castiel to scream his throat raw as he twitched and convulsed, trying desperately to escape the overwhelming agony. But there was no escape. When the baton was finally withdrawn, Castiel once again lay gasping, the world swimming in and out of focus.
“Ah, ah, little brother. I told you I wouldn’t let you fade out,” Lucifer said, waving his hand. Merciless clarity returned sharply to Castiel’s mind. He shuddered, mortified to find tears leaking from his eyes. Lucifer reached down to brush his fingers through the wetness running down Castiel’s temple, his own eyes glittering with excitement. “You are so beautiful like this, little brother. More so even than I had imagined. If only you could see yourself.” The baton touched down again, inches from Castiel’s genitals. Castiel screamed until his voice cracked and gave out into broken cries and whimpers.
Lucifer continued on, moving around the bed, touching the baton to various parts of his body until Castiel was sure he would go mad. Electrical burns blossomed on his skin like flowers. It seemed to go on forever. But finally, finally, he realized that the baton was no longer being used on him, that fresh pain was no longer assaulting his senses. He lay panting, staring up at the ceiling, his mind drifting in a shocked daze, his entire body alive with agony. It barely even registered when Lucifer climbed onto the bed with him and hoisted his legs up over his shoulders, not until the sharp, tearing pain of penetration as Sam’s huge cock was once again forced into his ass.
He couldn’t even scream. His throat was too raw and he didn’t have the strength. The sound he did manage was guttural, a desperate, animalistic noise. It shamed him almost as much as the cock invading his body. But he couldn’t stop himself, the keening cries escaping him with each thrust of Lucifer’s hips. Lucifer grinned down at him as he fucked him into the mattress with a brutal rhythm until he finally came with a satisfied shout, spilling Sam’s seed deep into Castiel’s body. He lay on top of him, panting, for a few moments before withdrawing and shifting around until he was sitting on the side of the bed, looking down at Castiel as he lay motionless save for the occasional spasmodic twitching of his limbs, aftershocks from the electricity that had been torturing his body.
“You are a delightful plaything, little brother,” Lucifer said affectionately, brushing sweat-soaked bangs back off of Castiel’s forehead. Castiel couldn’t help but whimper at the contact and Lucifer’s smile widened. When the darkness descended that time, Castiel was pathetically grateful.
Lucifer was standing over the bed with a knife in his hand the next time Castiel woke, the blade wicked and curved and sharp-looking. He barely caught himself before he whimpered, but there was no stopping the shudder that rippled down his aching body. It was a different room again, the obvious passage of time a gaping hole in his weary, strained mind. How long had it been since the graveyard? What… what was happening with Dean, with Bobby? What was going on in the world outside these walls? His lack of knowledge was maddening.
“I thought I’d go for something a little more traditional this time,” Lucifer said, leaning down over him. Castiel’s attention snapped back to the knife which was now alarmingly close to his face. Lucifer smirked. “There’s nothing quite like spilling a little blood, is there? One of the best things about these meatsuits. Aside from fucking, of course. Bring them both together? Now that’s perfection.” He brought the knife down even closer, so that it was only centimeters from his left eye. Castiel’s breath froze in his chest. Surely he wouldn’t…. Not that. But of course this was Lucifer. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do. He waited, helpless, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, until finally Lucifer drew back with a chuckle.
“Don’t worry, little brother. I enjoy seeing the pain and anguish in those pretty blue eyes far too much. Sam and I both do. Some other time, maybe.” Castiel’s heart lurched again at the mention of Sam. He realized with some horror that thoughts of Sam were already starting to take a backseat to thoughts of Lucifer, both identities becoming dominant with the face and body that was rightfully only Sam’s. He thought with shame that Dean’s mind would never be so weak, so quick to lose sight of his brother.
He was torn from his thoughts as the knife suddenly sliced into his face, a sharp bite of pain arcing down from his temple to his jaw. Lucifer had moved so quickly that it hadn’t even registered. He gasped in shock. The slice was deep. He could feel how the wound gaped open, how blood was running down his skin to matt in his hair and drip onto the sheets beneath his head.
“Now, now, little brother. We can’t have your thoughts drifting like that. Don’t you think you have important enough concerns happening right here and now? I think this knife warrants all of your attention, don’t you? I think I warrant all of your attention.” There was a harder edge to his voice. Genuine displeasure that Castiel’s full focus hadn’t been on him.
The knife came down again, slicing Castiel’s right forearm open to the bone. Castiel cried out in shock and pain as blood gushed from the wound, soaking the sheets. Lucifer smirked down at him for a moment before passing his hand over the cut. The skin closed up like magic, but there was still a livid, pink scar and Castiel could still feel the wound, sharp, phantom pain in his skin.
His left forearm met the same fate as his right. Castiel managed not to scream, braced as he was for the pain, but his teeth broke skin as they bit into his lip. Lucifer’s smirk quirked downwards in displeasure and a second and third cut joined the first in quick succession.
Castiel screamed, his body jerking at the pain, wrenching deeper bruises into his bound wrists. The coppery scent of blood filled the air. Lucifer let him bleed a little longer before closing up those wounds as well, once again leaving behind scar tissue and phantom pain.
Castiel knew where this was heading, and no matter how much he tried to prepare himself, no matter how much he tried to brace himself mentally and physically, it took no time at all for Lucifer to reduce him to a sobbing, writhing mess. He sliced into him again and again, deeper and deeper, healing the wounds superficially only to open them again. The mattress was soon soaked through. In some small corner of his mind that was still coherent, Castiel knew that he should be dead. He should have died a dozen times over from blood loss, from the deep wounds that Lucifer was cutting into his abdomen, into his chest. Into his throat. But every time he thought merciful darkness might take him, Lucifer pressed his fingers to Castiel’s temple and he was revived again.
Castiel was going to go mad. It couldn’t be possible to be conscious through such a thing and remain sane. He could’ve sworn he felt the edges of his mind fraying. Was that Lucifer’s goal? Did he want to break him that completely?
The knife sank into his chest, sliding between his ribs and piercing a lung. Castiel choked as blood welled up his throat. That wound was healed as well but Castiel was left hacking and coughing, unable to draw a breath until what had already been spilled into his lungs had come leaking out of his nose and mouth.
And then Lucifer did it again. And again. Castiel thought he might never draw a proper breath of air again. Such an unnecessary thing, when he’d been at full power. Such an incredibly vital thing, when he was little more than human.
“Please,” he sputtered with blood-soaked lips as he managed to cough his lungs mostly clear yet again. “Please. No… no more. Have… have mercy.” Lucifer drew back, a triumphant grin on his face. He looked macabre, soaked to the elbows in Castiel’s blood, more blood splashed across his clothes and even his face. He’d caused more than one spurt of arterial spray in his work.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it brother? All you had to do was ask,” he laughed, tossing the knife aside.
Castiel stared at him uncomprehendingly. Surely… surely it wasn’t as simple as that. He was panting with pain and exertion, still having to cough a bit to clear lingering traces of blood from his throat. His body was thrumming with sharp, stabbing pain and he was covered head to toe in ugly, vicious looking scars. His muscles ached with the strain of having thrashed uselessly at his bonds, trying to escape the knife. Blood was everywhere, painting his skin, painting the walls, soaking the bed beneath him. The scent hung heavy and suffocating in the air. It looked like someone - like several someones - had been slaughtered in the room.
Someone was slaughtered in here, he realized dully. You were.
And all Lucifer had wanted was for him to ask him to stop? He’d… he’d begged the first time Lucifer had violated him. He’d said ‘no’ over and over again, all in vain. But this time… this time if he’d said it earlier, maybe he could have spared himself some of this agony. Or… maybe Lucifer was lying. Maybe he was just finished, and wouldn’t have stopped earlier no matter what. It was all too much for Castiel’s frayed mind to contemplate. He thought… he thought that maybe if he wasn’t so exhausted, he might have started to laugh.
He really was going to lose his mind.
It seemed Lucifer wasn’t completely finished after all, as he climbed up onto the bed, heedless of the blood soaking into the knees of his already splattered jeans. He pulled Sam’s cock free and with a smirk he smeared it with Castiel’s blood. With the other pain already cutting through his body it barely seemed to count when he was once again folded nearly in half and impaled on Sam’s cock. But it still drove an anguished cry past his lips. It still made him want to scream and thrash and get away. Because it was still the ultimate violation, perpetuated by his brother, on him and Sam both.
He grit his teeth and stared at the arterial spray on the ceiling as Lucifer grunted and rutted above him, and once again felt a shameful sense of gratitude when Lucifer finally finished and sent him into darkness.
When he opened his eyes again he saw Lucifer standing over him, examining a leather belt that he was holding in his hands. Yet again, his surroundings were different. Unsurprising, in this case, since it would have taken a minor miracle to salvage the blood-soaked mess of the previous room. Castiel fought to steel himself against whatever might be coming. He wished, desperately, that he could have even just a few moments of peace, of time spent both conscious and alone. But whenever he was awake, Lucifer was there. There was no break from him, no chance to mentally regroup. He didn’t know how long he could last like that.
“I think we’ll try something different this time, little brother,” Lucifer said with a smile. “You must be getting tired of lying on your back all the time.” Castiel could only blink at him, unsure if a response was expected. Certainly anything Lucifer had in mind wouldn’t go well for him, no matter what he said. His whole body ached. He knew Lucifer was using magic to keep it functioning. Certainly, in his near-human state, he would have had to ingest sustenance by now. But Lucifer was keeping it going just as he’d replenished his blood supply when he should have died from blood loss. But he wasn’t doing anything for his comfort. He could still feel the ghosts of the knife wounds, and he noted that his body was still covered scars. Lucifer considered him a plaything. He was doing what was necessary to keep him alive, but nothing more.
The scars were ugly. For some reason that made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with physical pain. Humans feared disfigurement. It shouldn’t matter to an angel. This vessel wasn’t him, not really. Except… except that it kind of was now. Jimmy was gone, had been since his miraculous resurrection after the incident with Chuck. And he was so weak now that he couldn’t exist outside of his vessel. A humbling thought. A frightening thought. Flesh was so vulnerable. And he was at the mercy of Lucifer himself.
Lucifer set the belt aside and leaned over to release first his right wrist, and then the left. He’d barely registered his freedom before Lucifer was flipping him over onto his stomach and once again securing his wrists, though now they were first tied together before then being tied to the middle of the headboard. The new position was disorienting after what felt like eons staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t have long to contemplate it before Lucifer was on the move again, picking the belt up. Feeling weak and cowardly, Castiel buried his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to see what was coming.
“You know, whipping has long been a traditional form of punishment for humans,” Lucifer began conversationally. Castiel couldn’t repress a shudder. “So many different tools are used to do it, though. I wonder which causes the most damage? The most pain? This calls for some experimentation, I think.”
The first lash of the belt landed across his shoulder blades. Castiel grunted into the pillow, suddenly grateful to be lying on his stomach. It would be so much easier to muffle any cries that he couldn’t hold back. The blows fell steadily then, ranging from his shoulder blades down to the top of his thighs. Lucifer was putting some effort into it, too, grunting with exertion. It hurt. Without a doubt, it hurt a great deal. Castiel could well imagine how his skin was blossoming red with welts. But compared to the ordeal with the knife…. Well, compared to that, it wasn’t that bad. He sank his teeth into the pillow and grunted with each blow, but it wasn’t unbearable.
Naturally, Lucifer wasn’t satisfied. It wasn’t long before the blows stopped landing and Castiel could hear him moving around the room. Sucking in a deep breath, he turned his head to look. Lucifer had stopped to examine a floor lamp over in the corner. Or rather, he seemed to be examining the lamp’s power cord. He reached down and unplugged it from the wall, and then he yanked the cord loose from the lamp. Castiel watched as he folded it in half and slapped it against his palm a couple of times. When a slow smile spread across Lucifer’s face, Castiel shuddered and buried his face back into the pillow.
The electrical cord was worse.
The bite of pain into his skin was sharper, more painful. He thought maybe that some of the blows were actually breaking the skin, drawing his blood again. Despite his best efforts, whimpers of distress were escaping him, which only seemed to fuel Lucifer’s efforts. He whipped him with renewed enthusiasm.
It still wasn’t as bad as the knife.
After awhile, Lucifer seemed to grow dissatisfied with the cord as well and set it aside. Castiel didn’t want to look anymore, his body throbbing with pain. When Lucifer returned and the assault resumed, the blows were sharper still. Castiel couldn’t help but cry out loud. After several more blows cut into his skin he finally turned to see what new instrument of torture Lucifer had found. A wire coat hanger, bent out into a straight line. There was little doubt in Castiel’s mind that it was cutting into his skin, adding new scars to match those that covered the front of his body. After awhile Lucifer stopped again. But instead of going in search of a new weapon, he sat on the side of the bed and started petting his hand over Castiel’s brutalized back.
“I think I’m going to have to find something more interesting. Like a barbed cat o’ nine tails. What can I say? This was a whim and I was woefully unprepared,” he laughed. Castiel shuddered, burying his face deeper into the pillow. ‘Unprepared’ or not, Castiel’s back, ass, and thighs still felt like they were on fire. “Today doesn’t have to be a total loss, though. I have another idea.” Castiel fought back a whimper. Any idea of Lucifer’s could not bode well for him. “You may be aware that in the male body there is something called a prostate. When stimulated, it can cause intense sexual pleasure.” Suddenly there were fingers digging into his ass. Castiel cried out, his body trying to jerk away instinctively. Then the fingers were prodding against something inside him that did indeed send ripples of unexpected pleasure shooting up his spine. He couldn’t help but whimper, even if the pleasure paled in comparison to the pain still throbbing through his body.
“I wonder, though…,” Lucifer mused as his fingers prodded at Castiel’s prostate. “Just a little… adjustment, and pleasure can become such exquisite pain.” Castiel felt a small ripple of something and then suddenly Lucifer’s fingers were sparking breathtakingly sharp agony instead of pleasure. He whimpered, digging his face further into the pillow. Lucifer laughed. “Oh, no, little brother. I won’t let you escape this.”
Lucifer’s fingers prodded at that special spot more insistently. Castiel couldn’t help but scream, awful, all-consuming pain firing through his entire body.
“Oh, yes,” Lucifer purred. “That’s more like it.” He climbed onto the bed and hoisted Castiel up onto his knees. Castiel keened, hating himself for his weakness, but he knew this was going to be bad. Lucifer shoved Sam’s cock inside of him, aiming perfectly for his prostate, and incredibly intense pain shot through every nerve in Castiel’s body. Castiel wailed into the pillow, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling. Lucifer laughed as he started up a brutal rhythm of thrusts, all of them hitting Castiel’s prostate dead-on.
Castiel thought he must be dying. Surely no one could experience such agony and live. It was not unlike the stun baton, but… worse. So much worse. Worse even, perhaps, than the knife. Pain slicing through his nerves like an electric shock, like fire. Lucifer grunting above him, the assault on his body making it all the more intimate, all the more awful. Tears soaked into the pillow and Castiel’s wails escalated into primal screams. It felt almost as if his entire body was going to just come apart.
Finally, finally, Lucifer reached completion, hitting that spot inside Castiel one final time. Castiel keened as Lucifer froze in position as he rode out his orgasm, keeping up constant pressure and therefore a constant stream of fiery agony through his body. When Lucifer withdrew, Castiel sobbed in relief. He’d never felt so weak, so incredibly pathetic, in his entire existence.
Lucifer laughed, a cruel, vicious sound, as he climbed off the bed.
“That was delightful, little brother. I wish I had thought of it sooner.”
When he felt Lucifer touch the back of his head, sending him once more into unconsciousness, Castiel wished only for death.
Castiel tried to keep track of time. He needed something by which to center himself, and there was nothing else available, so time it was. Except of course that he had no concept of how much time was passing except for the times when Lucifer was… entertaining himself with him. There was no way for him to tell exactly how much time passed between each incident, except for some vague sense that it was sometimes a fairly substantial amount. He settled instead for trying to count the incidents themselves. This, too, proved to be frustrating since as time went on he found his mind wearing thinner and thinner. His encounters with Lucifer were starting to blur together, an endless parade of agony. The knife made several more appearances, as did the threatened cat o’ nine tails. And he never reversed whatever bit of magic he had done to turn any stimulation of Castiel’s prostate into the worst kind of agony. With every encounter punctuated by another rape, Castiel was beginning to forget what it was like to not be consumed by shame and agony.
But by his best reckoning, the number of times he had woken in Lucifer’s presence was somewhere in the high twenties when everything changed.
That particular time, his rise into consciousness seemed a little slower than usual. And there was the ghost of a strangely familiar voice in his ear, as if from the tail end of a dream.
I am truly sorry to have to do this to you, little brother.
Not Lucifer’s voice, despite the familiar condescending endearment. He knew that voice, but his scattered, exhausted mind couldn’t place it.
It wasn’t just the voice, though. As he opened his eyes onto consciousness there was also a tingle of something in his mind, along his skin. Something that felt like magic. As he dully wondered what it might have been, he looked up and registered that Lucifer was standing at the foot of the bed with a look of rage on his face like he’d never seen before. His heart stuttered in his chest.
“What did you do?” Lucifer hissed. Castiel blinked at him.
“W-what?” he stuttered, his voice still hoarse from screaming.
“The magic, you little shit. I felt it. What did you do?”
“N-nothing!” Castiel said desperately, his breath catching in his throat. Lucifer was frightening enough when he was playing. This level of anger was unprecedented. He didn’t want to imagine what he might do to him in such a state.
“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Lucifer screamed, his rage twisting Sam’s handsome face into something ugly and feral. “Don’t you think I know what it feels like to have magic cast on me? I don’t know how you did it but you did something! Now tell me!”
“Nothing! I didn’t do anything! You know I can’t!” Castiel cried, pulling reflexively at his bound hands. Even after all this time, his body still tried to escape the threat of violence, despite the futility of the situation. Pathetic human instincts.
Lucifer screamed in rage, a terrifying, inhuman sound. He slammed his hands down on Castiel’s shins and a shockwave of power shot up his legs.
Castiel felt the bones in his legs shatter.
His mind whited out before he could even scream. But then Lucifer was right there, his hand on Castiel’s throat, and everything was crystal clear again. Agony spiked through everything. His body wanted to fight, to flee, to do something, but every millimeter of movement sent stabbing, all-consuming pain through his legs. It was unbelievable.
“What did you DO?” Lucifer screamed again, giving him a brutal shake by the grip he had on his throat. He almost blanked out again as his legs were jostled by the movement. His mind couldn’t piece together the words to a reply, even if he could have managed to speak past the keening cry escaping his mouth. Lucifer screamed in rage again, releasing Castiel’s throat only to slam his hands down on his chest.
He felt his ribs and pelvis splinter apart in the shockwave of power that followed.
Castiel did lose consciousness then, but his respite was brief before Lucifer forced him back to awareness. A state of extreme shock settled over him as Lucifer roughly flipped his broken body over onto his stomach and started to rut inside him, still snarling in rage. The pain as his shattered bones were repeatedly jostled was unlike anything he’d experienced before, which he hadn’t thought was possible anymore. When Lucifer finished it was a blow to the back of his head that sent him into unconsciousness instead of the usual touch to his forehead.
Except that it couldn’t have been very long at all before he found himself conscious again. Still in the same room, still with most of his bones shattered. He was on his back again. He keened in desperate pain.
“I can’t leave,” Lucifer snarled. “I try to walk away but I keep being drawn back to you. Is that what you did? Put some kind of binding on me?” Castiel could only shake his head helplessly, awash in unbelievable agony. “There’s no one else. It had to be you!” Lucifer continued. A frightening snarl curled his lips. “Well, little brother, I’m going to make you regret that. And then you’re going to tell me how to reverse it.” He climbed onto the bed and straddled Castiel’s broken hips. “Oh, yes. You’re going to regret it,” he said, raising his fist into the air before bringing it back down towards Castiel’s face.
This Lucifer was completely different from the smug, calculating sadist he’d been before. This Lucifer was enraged, out-of-control. Even once he finally seemed to believe that Castiel had not been the one to cast whatever magic had been done, after hours and hours of alternating beatings and rapes, he still targeted his anger at him for lack of a better option. Sam’s knuckles were split and bleeding from the ferocity of the assault. Lucifer finally healed Castiel’s bones but only out of frustration that he had to keep reviving him from passing out from the agony.
And Castiel had learned himself what Lucifer had meant when he said he couldn’t leave. After he had seemed to expend himself to exhaustion Lucifer had slammed out of the room, for the first time leaving Castiel conscious and alone. He’d whimpered piteously, in so much pain that he longed desperately for that blessed darkness. But he’d had more pressing concerns as another feeling had started to come over him. An… uneasiness that grew alarmingly quickly. He needed Lucifer to come back. It wasn’t right that he wasn’t with him. They should be together always. Nothing would be right again unless they were together.
The thoughts circling in his mind were alien and baffling, as was the creeping uneasiness in his gut. Only a few minutes had passed since Lucifer had stormed out and Castiel felt like he would die if he didn’t come back. After everything Lucifer had put him through, to be longing for his rapist and torturer was sickening and shameful in its own right. But there was no better word for it. He was longing for him. So long wishing for some time alone and now that he was all he was able to do was want him to come back.
Suddenly the door slammed open again and the strange feeling vanished. Lucifer stood there, his eyes wild as he stared at Castiel. And then he lunged forward, roughly grabbing Castiel’s hips and thrusting into his body. He rutted into him with manic intensity.
“Mine,” he hissed, pressing his forehead against Castiel’s in a gesture that might have been tender under different circumstances. “You’re mine. No one else will ever touch you. You belong to me. I’m never going to let you go.” Castiel could only close his eyes and ride it out. He felt unsettlingly soothed that Lucifer was back. It felt… right that they were together. Even as he felt ripped apart and violated, it felt right.
What in the world had been done to him? To the both of them?
Part 2
It was supposed to be the showdown to end all showdowns.
But Castiel couldn’t help but muse as he stood there, holy oil Molotov cocktail at the ready, that they were a pretty sorry looking bunch for would-be saviours of the world. Team Free Will indeed.
After he attacked Michael and Lucifer turned his attention on him, his eyes murderous, Castiel had been certain that that was it. He was done for. But then the rage faded from Lucifer's expression and it looked more contemplative, like he was studying an interesting specimen under a microscope.
And then a cruel smirk, so out of place on Sam’s face, twisted his lips. “No, I think I have a better idea for your punishment, little brother.” He snapped his fingers, and Castiel felt awareness slip away.
When he regained consciousness, he was lying on a bed. He blinked in confusion at the ceiling for a moment before suddenly trying to sit up, panic seizing him. But he was stopped when he discovered that his wrists were tied tightly to either corner of the headboard. He yanked at them in frustration, but in his weakened, nearly human state, it was useless.
“Feeling a little… impotent, little brother? What a shame.” The voice startled him, drawing his attention to the doorway. Sam stood there, smirking at him. Only it wasn’t Sam, of course. It was Lucifer.
Castiel grit his teeth, dozens of questions circling through his mind. What had happened? Where were Dean and Bobby? What had become of Michael? Had the battle taken place? Was it… over? But then… why was he even still alive? He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings, some sense of where he was. It seemed to be a hotel room, though a considerably nicer one than the Winchesters usually frequented.
“Confused, little brother? I don’t blame you,” Lucifer said, approaching the bed and sitting down at Castiel’s side. It was… alarmingly intimate. Castiel stiffened, his bound hands clenching into fists. Lucifer merely smiled, staring at him as if he were a particularly fascinating science experiment. “You’re so… weak. So fragile. It’s endearing. Poor little angel, cut off from Heaven for disobedience. You’re little more than one of them now. But don’t worry. I still have a use for you.” He trailed fingers down the side of Castiel’s face. Castiel jerked away, uneasiness coiling in his stomach.
“What… what happened? Where are the others?” he asked, wincing at the weakness in his voice. Lucifer suddenly grabbed his face in an iron grip, the smile disappearing from his lips.
“That’s not really any concern of yours, now is it? But if you must know, Michael is dead. I fought my brother as I was destined to. But I was the one who prevailed. I killed Michael because I had no choice. It brought me no joy. But this world is mine, now. Along with all of Hell. And soon, Heaven, too.”
Castiel stared at him in horror. It couldn’t be true, could it? But then what about…? He suddenly felt cold all over. No. Dean and Bobby couldn’t be dead. Not Dean…. Lucifer seemed to sense what he was thinking, a cruel smile spreading across his face again, even as his grip tightened, his fingers digging bruises into Castiel’s flesh.
“Oh, are you worried about your little monkey friends? That’s so cute. Don’t fret, they’re still alive. For now. They scurried off while I was occupied with Michael. But if they dare try to make any move against me, I’ll crush them. Them and anyone else foolish enough to try.” Relief so intense it took his breath away washed over Castiel. Dean was alive. Dean and Bobby both. There… there was still hope if they were alive. Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “You have such faith in them, little brother. I can see it in your eyes. But it’s for nothing. You think they can do anything to stop me? Especially now that I have defeated Michael? Tomorrow, I march on Heaven, flanked by legions of demons. Any angel that does not bow down to me will meet Michael’s fate. It’s all mine now. And that includes you, little brother.”
“I’ll never bow down to you, Lucifer,” Castiel snarled. “You may as well just kill me.” His death seemed inevitable. Lucifer was far too strong for him to fight alone. But he was not afraid. He had been true to his own will until the end. It hadn’t been for nothing. Dean was alive. There was a chance, however slim it might be, that the free future that Dean had envisioned might still come to pass.
“Oh, no, little brother. I have something special in mind for you,” Lucifer purred, leaning down so that his face was only inches from Castiel’s. His fingers loosened their punishing grip and were suddenly stroking Castiel’s face again, a parody of gentleness over the abused flesh. “This vessel of yours, I find it… intriguing. It is not unattractive, as these monkeys go. I see no reason why I shouldn’t… indulge, so long as I am in a vessel myself.” His grin was lascivious, his intent unmistakable.
“No!” Castiel cried, jerking again at his bound hands, shaking his head in both denial and a futile attempt to escape Lucifer’s attentions. Icy fear washed through his veins. No. Not that. Anything but that. Lucifer threw his head back and laughed, looking for all the world like Sam enjoying a rare, carefree moment. The juxtaposition made the whole situation seem even more surreal, like even more of some kind of twisted nightmare. And then Lucifer was climbing up onto the bed, straddling his thighs and working Castiel’s belt free from his pants. “Don’t… don’t do this,” Castiel pleaded.
“Now, now, little brother, I think I’m being quite merciful, giving you this new purpose in life when you’ve been such an annoyance. You should feel honoured,” Lucifer purred, throwing the belt aside and ripping Castiel’s pants open, the sound of fabric tearing obscenely loud in the room. Within moments he’d stripped Castiel of his pants and boxers, leaving him naked from the waist down. Lucifer leaned back, smirking down at Castiel as he opened his own jeans, pulling his cock - Sam’s cock - free.
“No, no, no, no…,” Castiel moaned, closing his eyes. Unsurprisingly, Sam’s cock was just as impressively large as the rest of him. He kept pulling at his bonds, even knowing how pointless it was. He could feel wetness at his wrists from where the ropes had abraded his skin but it barely registered. He just wanted to get away. Suddenly his legs were being pulled up and yanked apart and Lucifer was right there, shoving inside of Castiel’s body with no preparation whatsoever. Castiel couldn’t hold back his scream, the tearing, burning pain overwhelming him, so much worse even than he could have imagined. His body thrashed convulsively, but Lucifer bore down, his superior size and weight easily holding him down, even if he hadn’t been tied to the bed.
“Open those pretty eyes, little brother,” Lucifer murmured, pausing in his movements, balls-deep in Castiel’s ass. “Sam has wanted to do this to you for such a long time. You wouldn’t deny him the full experience, now would you? I want him to see everything.” Castiel shuddered, clenching his eyes more tightly shut and shaking his head in denial. It was a lie. Of course it was. It had to be. The fact that it was Sam’s body doing this to him, violating his own so intimately, made it so much worse. But even just the thought that Sam was aware, that he had to go through it, too. That… that was too much.
“I said open your eyes!” Lucifer hissed, his voice suddenly angry. A heavy blow landed across Castiel’s face, snapping his head to the side. He cried out, blood filling his mouth from where teeth had mashed against skin. He was hit again and again, the onslaught not affording him a chance to obey, until finally Lucifer fisted a hand in his hair, yanking his head back. “LOOK AT ME!” Dazed, Castiel opened his eyes, pain pulsing through his face, and gazed up at him. Sam’s handsome face was twisted with rage, a cold fire burning in his eyes. They were truly Lucifer’s eyes. “That’s it, little brother. We both want the full experience,” he sneered. And then he started to move.
Castiel wondered if this was what going into shock felt like.
Each thrust of Lucifer’s - of Sam’s - body drove the air from Castiel’s lungs and a choked cry past his lips. His battered face throbbed in counterpoint to the frantic beating of his heart. There was wetness sliding down the crack of his ass. Blood. Things were being torn inside of him.
Lucifer’s hand was still fisted tightly in his hair, almost pulling it out by the roots and preventing him from turning his head. But he couldn’t bare the sight of Sam’s face, twisted with anger and lust, so he let his gaze drift past it. He noted numbly that his feet looked pretty ridiculous, waving around stuck straight up in the air from where his legs were hoisted over Lucifer’s shoulders. Dean would laugh if he saw me like this.
No. Probably not.
A particularly brutal thrust wrested another scream from him, and he instinctively shut his eyes against the sharp pain. Lucifer growled, releasing his hair to deliver another powerful blow to his face. Castiel thought he felt his cheekbone break. His eyes popped back open, staring straight up into Lucifer’s. And Lucifer grinned down at him, a twisted, feral grin that was frighteningly out of place on Sam’s face. He didn’t dare tear his eyes away as the thrusts intensified until Lucifer finally came with a satisfied grunt, spilling his seed into Castiel’s body.
Lucifer lay motionless for awhile, panting from exertion, his weight crushing Castiel into the mattress. Freed from his gaze, Castiel stared up at the ceiling. He’d never felt such pain. Physical or… otherwise. He didn’t know how to even begin to process it. Finally, Lucifer shifted back, pulling his cock free. It was a sickening sensation. Castiel was ashamed of the noise that rose unbidden to his lips. Lucifer leered.
“Oh, yes. I think I’ll be keeping you, little brother.” With that he touched his fingers to Castiel’s forehead, and the world went away.
When Castiel woke again he was tied to a different bed in a different room. He felt dazed, groggy. Somehow he knew that more than just a few hours had passed. Days, maybe.
He was completely naked, a state that was completely new to him in his vessel. It made him feel very vulnerable. Which was undoubtedly the point.
His body ached. Awful, throbbing pain in his face, in his wrists, in… other places. He ached, deep down inside his very core.
Finally it registered that Lucifer was standing at the foot of the bed. Smiling. Castiel’s bound hands clenched into fists, his breath catching in his lungs. Lucifer’s smile widened.
“You’ll be very pleased, little brother, to hear that my march on Heaven went quite well,” Lucifer said. Castiel’s eyes widened in horror. “And now it’s time to celebrate.”
“What… what happened?” Castiel rasped. The pain in his face blossomed with new intensity when he moved his jaw.
“No need to worry your pretty little head about the details, little brother,” Lucifer cooed. “You have more immediate concerns to worry about.” Castiel blinked at him, terror racing through his veins. “Now that we’ve… broken the ice, so to speak, we can spend more quality time together.” It was only then that Castiel noticed the long, cylindrical object he was holding. “Humans call this a stun baton,” Lucifer said with a grin, brandishing it like a sword. “These monkeys you care for so much certainly are clever at coming up with interesting ways to hurt each other, little brother. And yet they call me evil.” He laughed as he came around the bed, drawing closer. Castiel tensed, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He wanted to run or fight or do something, anything but lie there helpless. But that’s what he was. Helpless. “Now, I understand that this often renders humans unconscious, their primitive brains quite unable to handle the pain. Especially with, uh, repeated application.” Castiel closed his eyes, turning his head away. “But don’t worry, little brother. Despite your weakened, fragile state, I won’t let you fade out. I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the fun.” Castiel felt the baton jab into his ribs, and then everything was white, blinding pain.
He screamed, his back arching off the bed as waves of electric charge assaulted his senses. He’d never felt anything like it before, pain sizzling along every nerve in his body. After what seemed like an interminably long time, the baton was finally withdrawn, and Castiel collapsed back against the bed, gasping for breath. Lucifer’s laughter echoed in his ears.
“Okay, I confess, I may be amping up its charge a little. Delightful, isn’t it?” The baton touched his hip next, and once again sharp pain lanced through Castiel’s body. Lucifer kept up the contact longer that time, causing Castiel to scream his throat raw as he twitched and convulsed, trying desperately to escape the overwhelming agony. But there was no escape. When the baton was finally withdrawn, Castiel once again lay gasping, the world swimming in and out of focus.
“Ah, ah, little brother. I told you I wouldn’t let you fade out,” Lucifer said, waving his hand. Merciless clarity returned sharply to Castiel’s mind. He shuddered, mortified to find tears leaking from his eyes. Lucifer reached down to brush his fingers through the wetness running down Castiel’s temple, his own eyes glittering with excitement. “You are so beautiful like this, little brother. More so even than I had imagined. If only you could see yourself.” The baton touched down again, inches from Castiel’s genitals. Castiel screamed until his voice cracked and gave out into broken cries and whimpers.
Lucifer continued on, moving around the bed, touching the baton to various parts of his body until Castiel was sure he would go mad. Electrical burns blossomed on his skin like flowers. It seemed to go on forever. But finally, finally, he realized that the baton was no longer being used on him, that fresh pain was no longer assaulting his senses. He lay panting, staring up at the ceiling, his mind drifting in a shocked daze, his entire body alive with agony. It barely even registered when Lucifer climbed onto the bed with him and hoisted his legs up over his shoulders, not until the sharp, tearing pain of penetration as Sam’s huge cock was once again forced into his ass.
He couldn’t even scream. His throat was too raw and he didn’t have the strength. The sound he did manage was guttural, a desperate, animalistic noise. It shamed him almost as much as the cock invading his body. But he couldn’t stop himself, the keening cries escaping him with each thrust of Lucifer’s hips. Lucifer grinned down at him as he fucked him into the mattress with a brutal rhythm until he finally came with a satisfied shout, spilling Sam’s seed deep into Castiel’s body. He lay on top of him, panting, for a few moments before withdrawing and shifting around until he was sitting on the side of the bed, looking down at Castiel as he lay motionless save for the occasional spasmodic twitching of his limbs, aftershocks from the electricity that had been torturing his body.
“You are a delightful plaything, little brother,” Lucifer said affectionately, brushing sweat-soaked bangs back off of Castiel’s forehead. Castiel couldn’t help but whimper at the contact and Lucifer’s smile widened. When the darkness descended that time, Castiel was pathetically grateful.
Lucifer was standing over the bed with a knife in his hand the next time Castiel woke, the blade wicked and curved and sharp-looking. He barely caught himself before he whimpered, but there was no stopping the shudder that rippled down his aching body. It was a different room again, the obvious passage of time a gaping hole in his weary, strained mind. How long had it been since the graveyard? What… what was happening with Dean, with Bobby? What was going on in the world outside these walls? His lack of knowledge was maddening.
“I thought I’d go for something a little more traditional this time,” Lucifer said, leaning down over him. Castiel’s attention snapped back to the knife which was now alarmingly close to his face. Lucifer smirked. “There’s nothing quite like spilling a little blood, is there? One of the best things about these meatsuits. Aside from fucking, of course. Bring them both together? Now that’s perfection.” He brought the knife down even closer, so that it was only centimeters from his left eye. Castiel’s breath froze in his chest. Surely he wouldn’t…. Not that. But of course this was Lucifer. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do. He waited, helpless, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, until finally Lucifer drew back with a chuckle.
“Don’t worry, little brother. I enjoy seeing the pain and anguish in those pretty blue eyes far too much. Sam and I both do. Some other time, maybe.” Castiel’s heart lurched again at the mention of Sam. He realized with some horror that thoughts of Sam were already starting to take a backseat to thoughts of Lucifer, both identities becoming dominant with the face and body that was rightfully only Sam’s. He thought with shame that Dean’s mind would never be so weak, so quick to lose sight of his brother.
He was torn from his thoughts as the knife suddenly sliced into his face, a sharp bite of pain arcing down from his temple to his jaw. Lucifer had moved so quickly that it hadn’t even registered. He gasped in shock. The slice was deep. He could feel how the wound gaped open, how blood was running down his skin to matt in his hair and drip onto the sheets beneath his head.
“Now, now, little brother. We can’t have your thoughts drifting like that. Don’t you think you have important enough concerns happening right here and now? I think this knife warrants all of your attention, don’t you? I think I warrant all of your attention.” There was a harder edge to his voice. Genuine displeasure that Castiel’s full focus hadn’t been on him.
The knife came down again, slicing Castiel’s right forearm open to the bone. Castiel cried out in shock and pain as blood gushed from the wound, soaking the sheets. Lucifer smirked down at him for a moment before passing his hand over the cut. The skin closed up like magic, but there was still a livid, pink scar and Castiel could still feel the wound, sharp, phantom pain in his skin.
His left forearm met the same fate as his right. Castiel managed not to scream, braced as he was for the pain, but his teeth broke skin as they bit into his lip. Lucifer’s smirk quirked downwards in displeasure and a second and third cut joined the first in quick succession.
Castiel screamed, his body jerking at the pain, wrenching deeper bruises into his bound wrists. The coppery scent of blood filled the air. Lucifer let him bleed a little longer before closing up those wounds as well, once again leaving behind scar tissue and phantom pain.
Castiel knew where this was heading, and no matter how much he tried to prepare himself, no matter how much he tried to brace himself mentally and physically, it took no time at all for Lucifer to reduce him to a sobbing, writhing mess. He sliced into him again and again, deeper and deeper, healing the wounds superficially only to open them again. The mattress was soon soaked through. In some small corner of his mind that was still coherent, Castiel knew that he should be dead. He should have died a dozen times over from blood loss, from the deep wounds that Lucifer was cutting into his abdomen, into his chest. Into his throat. But every time he thought merciful darkness might take him, Lucifer pressed his fingers to Castiel’s temple and he was revived again.
Castiel was going to go mad. It couldn’t be possible to be conscious through such a thing and remain sane. He could’ve sworn he felt the edges of his mind fraying. Was that Lucifer’s goal? Did he want to break him that completely?
The knife sank into his chest, sliding between his ribs and piercing a lung. Castiel choked as blood welled up his throat. That wound was healed as well but Castiel was left hacking and coughing, unable to draw a breath until what had already been spilled into his lungs had come leaking out of his nose and mouth.
And then Lucifer did it again. And again. Castiel thought he might never draw a proper breath of air again. Such an unnecessary thing, when he’d been at full power. Such an incredibly vital thing, when he was little more than human.
“Please,” he sputtered with blood-soaked lips as he managed to cough his lungs mostly clear yet again. “Please. No… no more. Have… have mercy.” Lucifer drew back, a triumphant grin on his face. He looked macabre, soaked to the elbows in Castiel’s blood, more blood splashed across his clothes and even his face. He’d caused more than one spurt of arterial spray in his work.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it brother? All you had to do was ask,” he laughed, tossing the knife aside.
Castiel stared at him uncomprehendingly. Surely… surely it wasn’t as simple as that. He was panting with pain and exertion, still having to cough a bit to clear lingering traces of blood from his throat. His body was thrumming with sharp, stabbing pain and he was covered head to toe in ugly, vicious looking scars. His muscles ached with the strain of having thrashed uselessly at his bonds, trying to escape the knife. Blood was everywhere, painting his skin, painting the walls, soaking the bed beneath him. The scent hung heavy and suffocating in the air. It looked like someone - like several someones - had been slaughtered in the room.
Someone was slaughtered in here, he realized dully. You were.
And all Lucifer had wanted was for him to ask him to stop? He’d… he’d begged the first time Lucifer had violated him. He’d said ‘no’ over and over again, all in vain. But this time… this time if he’d said it earlier, maybe he could have spared himself some of this agony. Or… maybe Lucifer was lying. Maybe he was just finished, and wouldn’t have stopped earlier no matter what. It was all too much for Castiel’s frayed mind to contemplate. He thought… he thought that maybe if he wasn’t so exhausted, he might have started to laugh.
He really was going to lose his mind.
It seemed Lucifer wasn’t completely finished after all, as he climbed up onto the bed, heedless of the blood soaking into the knees of his already splattered jeans. He pulled Sam’s cock free and with a smirk he smeared it with Castiel’s blood. With the other pain already cutting through his body it barely seemed to count when he was once again folded nearly in half and impaled on Sam’s cock. But it still drove an anguished cry past his lips. It still made him want to scream and thrash and get away. Because it was still the ultimate violation, perpetuated by his brother, on him and Sam both.
He grit his teeth and stared at the arterial spray on the ceiling as Lucifer grunted and rutted above him, and once again felt a shameful sense of gratitude when Lucifer finally finished and sent him into darkness.
When he opened his eyes again he saw Lucifer standing over him, examining a leather belt that he was holding in his hands. Yet again, his surroundings were different. Unsurprising, in this case, since it would have taken a minor miracle to salvage the blood-soaked mess of the previous room. Castiel fought to steel himself against whatever might be coming. He wished, desperately, that he could have even just a few moments of peace, of time spent both conscious and alone. But whenever he was awake, Lucifer was there. There was no break from him, no chance to mentally regroup. He didn’t know how long he could last like that.
“I think we’ll try something different this time, little brother,” Lucifer said with a smile. “You must be getting tired of lying on your back all the time.” Castiel could only blink at him, unsure if a response was expected. Certainly anything Lucifer had in mind wouldn’t go well for him, no matter what he said. His whole body ached. He knew Lucifer was using magic to keep it functioning. Certainly, in his near-human state, he would have had to ingest sustenance by now. But Lucifer was keeping it going just as he’d replenished his blood supply when he should have died from blood loss. But he wasn’t doing anything for his comfort. He could still feel the ghosts of the knife wounds, and he noted that his body was still covered scars. Lucifer considered him a plaything. He was doing what was necessary to keep him alive, but nothing more.
The scars were ugly. For some reason that made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with physical pain. Humans feared disfigurement. It shouldn’t matter to an angel. This vessel wasn’t him, not really. Except… except that it kind of was now. Jimmy was gone, had been since his miraculous resurrection after the incident with Chuck. And he was so weak now that he couldn’t exist outside of his vessel. A humbling thought. A frightening thought. Flesh was so vulnerable. And he was at the mercy of Lucifer himself.
Lucifer set the belt aside and leaned over to release first his right wrist, and then the left. He’d barely registered his freedom before Lucifer was flipping him over onto his stomach and once again securing his wrists, though now they were first tied together before then being tied to the middle of the headboard. The new position was disorienting after what felt like eons staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t have long to contemplate it before Lucifer was on the move again, picking the belt up. Feeling weak and cowardly, Castiel buried his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to see what was coming.
“You know, whipping has long been a traditional form of punishment for humans,” Lucifer began conversationally. Castiel couldn’t repress a shudder. “So many different tools are used to do it, though. I wonder which causes the most damage? The most pain? This calls for some experimentation, I think.”
The first lash of the belt landed across his shoulder blades. Castiel grunted into the pillow, suddenly grateful to be lying on his stomach. It would be so much easier to muffle any cries that he couldn’t hold back. The blows fell steadily then, ranging from his shoulder blades down to the top of his thighs. Lucifer was putting some effort into it, too, grunting with exertion. It hurt. Without a doubt, it hurt a great deal. Castiel could well imagine how his skin was blossoming red with welts. But compared to the ordeal with the knife…. Well, compared to that, it wasn’t that bad. He sank his teeth into the pillow and grunted with each blow, but it wasn’t unbearable.
Naturally, Lucifer wasn’t satisfied. It wasn’t long before the blows stopped landing and Castiel could hear him moving around the room. Sucking in a deep breath, he turned his head to look. Lucifer had stopped to examine a floor lamp over in the corner. Or rather, he seemed to be examining the lamp’s power cord. He reached down and unplugged it from the wall, and then he yanked the cord loose from the lamp. Castiel watched as he folded it in half and slapped it against his palm a couple of times. When a slow smile spread across Lucifer’s face, Castiel shuddered and buried his face back into the pillow.
The electrical cord was worse.
The bite of pain into his skin was sharper, more painful. He thought maybe that some of the blows were actually breaking the skin, drawing his blood again. Despite his best efforts, whimpers of distress were escaping him, which only seemed to fuel Lucifer’s efforts. He whipped him with renewed enthusiasm.
It still wasn’t as bad as the knife.
After awhile, Lucifer seemed to grow dissatisfied with the cord as well and set it aside. Castiel didn’t want to look anymore, his body throbbing with pain. When Lucifer returned and the assault resumed, the blows were sharper still. Castiel couldn’t help but cry out loud. After several more blows cut into his skin he finally turned to see what new instrument of torture Lucifer had found. A wire coat hanger, bent out into a straight line. There was little doubt in Castiel’s mind that it was cutting into his skin, adding new scars to match those that covered the front of his body. After awhile Lucifer stopped again. But instead of going in search of a new weapon, he sat on the side of the bed and started petting his hand over Castiel’s brutalized back.
“I think I’m going to have to find something more interesting. Like a barbed cat o’ nine tails. What can I say? This was a whim and I was woefully unprepared,” he laughed. Castiel shuddered, burying his face deeper into the pillow. ‘Unprepared’ or not, Castiel’s back, ass, and thighs still felt like they were on fire. “Today doesn’t have to be a total loss, though. I have another idea.” Castiel fought back a whimper. Any idea of Lucifer’s could not bode well for him. “You may be aware that in the male body there is something called a prostate. When stimulated, it can cause intense sexual pleasure.” Suddenly there were fingers digging into his ass. Castiel cried out, his body trying to jerk away instinctively. Then the fingers were prodding against something inside him that did indeed send ripples of unexpected pleasure shooting up his spine. He couldn’t help but whimper, even if the pleasure paled in comparison to the pain still throbbing through his body.
“I wonder, though…,” Lucifer mused as his fingers prodded at Castiel’s prostate. “Just a little… adjustment, and pleasure can become such exquisite pain.” Castiel felt a small ripple of something and then suddenly Lucifer’s fingers were sparking breathtakingly sharp agony instead of pleasure. He whimpered, digging his face further into the pillow. Lucifer laughed. “Oh, no, little brother. I won’t let you escape this.”
Lucifer’s fingers prodded at that special spot more insistently. Castiel couldn’t help but scream, awful, all-consuming pain firing through his entire body.
“Oh, yes,” Lucifer purred. “That’s more like it.” He climbed onto the bed and hoisted Castiel up onto his knees. Castiel keened, hating himself for his weakness, but he knew this was going to be bad. Lucifer shoved Sam’s cock inside of him, aiming perfectly for his prostate, and incredibly intense pain shot through every nerve in Castiel’s body. Castiel wailed into the pillow, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling. Lucifer laughed as he started up a brutal rhythm of thrusts, all of them hitting Castiel’s prostate dead-on.
Castiel thought he must be dying. Surely no one could experience such agony and live. It was not unlike the stun baton, but… worse. So much worse. Worse even, perhaps, than the knife. Pain slicing through his nerves like an electric shock, like fire. Lucifer grunting above him, the assault on his body making it all the more intimate, all the more awful. Tears soaked into the pillow and Castiel’s wails escalated into primal screams. It felt almost as if his entire body was going to just come apart.
Finally, finally, Lucifer reached completion, hitting that spot inside Castiel one final time. Castiel keened as Lucifer froze in position as he rode out his orgasm, keeping up constant pressure and therefore a constant stream of fiery agony through his body. When Lucifer withdrew, Castiel sobbed in relief. He’d never felt so weak, so incredibly pathetic, in his entire existence.
Lucifer laughed, a cruel, vicious sound, as he climbed off the bed.
“That was delightful, little brother. I wish I had thought of it sooner.”
When he felt Lucifer touch the back of his head, sending him once more into unconsciousness, Castiel wished only for death.
Castiel tried to keep track of time. He needed something by which to center himself, and there was nothing else available, so time it was. Except of course that he had no concept of how much time was passing except for the times when Lucifer was… entertaining himself with him. There was no way for him to tell exactly how much time passed between each incident, except for some vague sense that it was sometimes a fairly substantial amount. He settled instead for trying to count the incidents themselves. This, too, proved to be frustrating since as time went on he found his mind wearing thinner and thinner. His encounters with Lucifer were starting to blur together, an endless parade of agony. The knife made several more appearances, as did the threatened cat o’ nine tails. And he never reversed whatever bit of magic he had done to turn any stimulation of Castiel’s prostate into the worst kind of agony. With every encounter punctuated by another rape, Castiel was beginning to forget what it was like to not be consumed by shame and agony.
But by his best reckoning, the number of times he had woken in Lucifer’s presence was somewhere in the high twenties when everything changed.
That particular time, his rise into consciousness seemed a little slower than usual. And there was the ghost of a strangely familiar voice in his ear, as if from the tail end of a dream.
I am truly sorry to have to do this to you, little brother.
Not Lucifer’s voice, despite the familiar condescending endearment. He knew that voice, but his scattered, exhausted mind couldn’t place it.
It wasn’t just the voice, though. As he opened his eyes onto consciousness there was also a tingle of something in his mind, along his skin. Something that felt like magic. As he dully wondered what it might have been, he looked up and registered that Lucifer was standing at the foot of the bed with a look of rage on his face like he’d never seen before. His heart stuttered in his chest.
“What did you do?” Lucifer hissed. Castiel blinked at him.
“W-what?” he stuttered, his voice still hoarse from screaming.
“The magic, you little shit. I felt it. What did you do?”
“N-nothing!” Castiel said desperately, his breath catching in his throat. Lucifer was frightening enough when he was playing. This level of anger was unprecedented. He didn’t want to imagine what he might do to him in such a state.
“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Lucifer screamed, his rage twisting Sam’s handsome face into something ugly and feral. “Don’t you think I know what it feels like to have magic cast on me? I don’t know how you did it but you did something! Now tell me!”
“Nothing! I didn’t do anything! You know I can’t!” Castiel cried, pulling reflexively at his bound hands. Even after all this time, his body still tried to escape the threat of violence, despite the futility of the situation. Pathetic human instincts.
Lucifer screamed in rage, a terrifying, inhuman sound. He slammed his hands down on Castiel’s shins and a shockwave of power shot up his legs.
Castiel felt the bones in his legs shatter.
His mind whited out before he could even scream. But then Lucifer was right there, his hand on Castiel’s throat, and everything was crystal clear again. Agony spiked through everything. His body wanted to fight, to flee, to do something, but every millimeter of movement sent stabbing, all-consuming pain through his legs. It was unbelievable.
“What did you DO?” Lucifer screamed again, giving him a brutal shake by the grip he had on his throat. He almost blanked out again as his legs were jostled by the movement. His mind couldn’t piece together the words to a reply, even if he could have managed to speak past the keening cry escaping his mouth. Lucifer screamed in rage again, releasing Castiel’s throat only to slam his hands down on his chest.
He felt his ribs and pelvis splinter apart in the shockwave of power that followed.
Castiel did lose consciousness then, but his respite was brief before Lucifer forced him back to awareness. A state of extreme shock settled over him as Lucifer roughly flipped his broken body over onto his stomach and started to rut inside him, still snarling in rage. The pain as his shattered bones were repeatedly jostled was unlike anything he’d experienced before, which he hadn’t thought was possible anymore. When Lucifer finished it was a blow to the back of his head that sent him into unconsciousness instead of the usual touch to his forehead.
Except that it couldn’t have been very long at all before he found himself conscious again. Still in the same room, still with most of his bones shattered. He was on his back again. He keened in desperate pain.
“I can’t leave,” Lucifer snarled. “I try to walk away but I keep being drawn back to you. Is that what you did? Put some kind of binding on me?” Castiel could only shake his head helplessly, awash in unbelievable agony. “There’s no one else. It had to be you!” Lucifer continued. A frightening snarl curled his lips. “Well, little brother, I’m going to make you regret that. And then you’re going to tell me how to reverse it.” He climbed onto the bed and straddled Castiel’s broken hips. “Oh, yes. You’re going to regret it,” he said, raising his fist into the air before bringing it back down towards Castiel’s face.
This Lucifer was completely different from the smug, calculating sadist he’d been before. This Lucifer was enraged, out-of-control. Even once he finally seemed to believe that Castiel had not been the one to cast whatever magic had been done, after hours and hours of alternating beatings and rapes, he still targeted his anger at him for lack of a better option. Sam’s knuckles were split and bleeding from the ferocity of the assault. Lucifer finally healed Castiel’s bones but only out of frustration that he had to keep reviving him from passing out from the agony.
And Castiel had learned himself what Lucifer had meant when he said he couldn’t leave. After he had seemed to expend himself to exhaustion Lucifer had slammed out of the room, for the first time leaving Castiel conscious and alone. He’d whimpered piteously, in so much pain that he longed desperately for that blessed darkness. But he’d had more pressing concerns as another feeling had started to come over him. An… uneasiness that grew alarmingly quickly. He needed Lucifer to come back. It wasn’t right that he wasn’t with him. They should be together always. Nothing would be right again unless they were together.
The thoughts circling in his mind were alien and baffling, as was the creeping uneasiness in his gut. Only a few minutes had passed since Lucifer had stormed out and Castiel felt like he would die if he didn’t come back. After everything Lucifer had put him through, to be longing for his rapist and torturer was sickening and shameful in its own right. But there was no better word for it. He was longing for him. So long wishing for some time alone and now that he was all he was able to do was want him to come back.
Suddenly the door slammed open again and the strange feeling vanished. Lucifer stood there, his eyes wild as he stared at Castiel. And then he lunged forward, roughly grabbing Castiel’s hips and thrusting into his body. He rutted into him with manic intensity.
“Mine,” he hissed, pressing his forehead against Castiel’s in a gesture that might have been tender under different circumstances. “You’re mine. No one else will ever touch you. You belong to me. I’m never going to let you go.” Castiel could only close his eyes and ride it out. He felt unsettlingly soothed that Lucifer was back. It felt… right that they were together. Even as he felt ripped apart and violated, it felt right.
What in the world had been done to him? To the both of them?
Part 2