Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Supernatural world, which is trademarked by the CW, and Eric Kripke. Both Castiel and Dean are characters created and owned by Eric Kripke, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of the canon. As much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this. Don't sue me, I have no money. This story is not designed to be an accurate depiction of a BDSM relationship their mantra is safe, sane, and consensual and I can't guarantee that this story will be all three at the same time. This is a fantasy, not reality so don't bitch me out when I stray I know it's wrong.

The corridor was dark, lit only by intermittent torches that did nothing to chase away the shadows and only added clouds of smoke to the already thick air. There was something that looks suspiciously like raw sewage lazily drifting its way across the floor. The stone walls were cold and uninviting, the smell in the air was rank with sweat, feces, urine and blood. Castiel scowled at the rat that scurried quickly away from him.

This place was disgusting it was not fit for any human being to live in these conditions, but there were thousands living under this roof, though none by their accord. Hell was the largest prison in the capital filled mostly with resistance fighters, journalists, and other petty criminals that the Angelic State wanted to make an example of. The very thought of all these poor souls languishing away in this cesspit churned his stomach, but there was little he could do for them. Castiel was not on a mission of mercy, as much as he wished that he could free everyone from this abyss he was only here for one man in particular, and only for his own selfish goal. His brother wrinkled up his nose as they came across another pool of bodily fluids.

"Please Cassie can't we just go to one of those nicer places, why must you insist on taking in strays?" Castiel ignored Balthazar's near whining. As he continued on following their guide as he led them deeper into the prison. The further they went the louder it became; Castiel was unnerved by the sounds unsure what it was at first until it dawned on him, it was people screaming. He repressed a shudder glancing at Balthazar to see that he held the same expression. While not a human champion like himself, Balthazar had a certain degree of empathy that it seemed many of his species lacked.

Hell wasn't the prison's original name, it earned its current moniker slowly over time, it was what the human's called it, named after some mythological terrible place, and eventually the angel's accepted the name. There were several inhabitants overcrowded into barred rooms on either side of the path. They were thin and dirty streaked in their own filth Castiel only hoped that his target lived in better conditions.

It was compulsory for high ranking members of the Angelic Order to keep humans as slaves, as a representation for their dominion over Earth, and while Castiel was only a soldier, a man of his station was expected to have a prize, his spoils of war. An example of human perfection bowed down in supplication to him as a symbol for mankind's subservience to his angelic grace. Castiel had avoided his privilege for as long as he could, finding the idea of keeping a human as a glorified pet distasteful. His brothers, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the past time. Balthazar had claimed woman after woman to be a part of his household until he had a virtual harem of human slaves at his disposal; his harem was only rivaled by Gabriel's.

Many others preferred to keep their humans for much more violent amusement, Uriel favored pitting them against each other in gladiatorial battles to the death, despising humans as lesser creatures he did not see fit to have them pleasure him. Castiel was unsure; he did not want a prize. The more time he spent on earth, the more he questioned his species conquering of helpless planets. Surely there were better ways to add to the culture, but like a good soldier when his time came to leave his planet to serve the goal of the Angelic Empire he fought without question. They conquered Earth without much effort, leaving only small patches of resistance that caused them few and infrequent troubles.

Which led him to this point in time, Raphael gave him an order and Castiel always obeyed his orders. Once the Earth was conquered the majority of the Angelic army returned home to Heaven, leaving a garrison behind to keep the planet under control. It was important that the symbolic control they had was so firmly rooted in human minds that there was no question of who was in charge. Raphael commanded him to take a prize, and his orders were law, only Michael had more power than him and Castiel had yet to meet the man. Balthazar had suggested that they go to one of the palaces that specialized in training slaves in the art of pleasure.

"That would probably be the first step in removing the stick from your ass." He had said, but Castiel had no intention of forming a sexual relationship with his slave. He had chosen this man specifically because owning him would give Castiel enough standing that he would not need to keep up the charade of owning him long and he would not be expected continue gathering slaves when the one he had would continually give him trouble. They reached a door at the end of a long hallway. The guard unlocked the door and handed Castiel the keys

"I will be back in ten minutes to see if you made up your mind." He told them. Castiel reached for the handle, but Balthazar reached across him and leaned against the door.

"You are going through with this aren't you?" he demanded aghast. This was the only way that Cas knew that he could retain his honor as an angel and do some good; he could free a righteous man from Hell while maintaining his station. "Do you have any idea how much trouble this one will give you?" Balthazar continued.

"He cannot be broken; it's been four years, and he never gave us any useful information. He will not submit to you." That was what Castiel was counting on. Castiel opened the door, closing it quickly behind him; Balthazar shot him a dirty look through the barred portion of the door, but said nothing about his exclusion. The room was small but thankfully clean of the filth he had seen elsewhere in the prison. The heat this deep into the prison was beginning to affect him, his species were nearly immune to prolonged cold, but periods of intense heat caused discomfort as it did in humans. He pulled his tie loose the Angels inserted much of their culture on Earth they adapted simple things such as clothing styles to suit their needs depending on the planet

. Castiel located his target quickly in the dim chamber; he was shirtless and chained to the wall. A shiny silver metallic collar was around his neck held shut by a solid padlock he had the same style thick silver cuffs at his wrists and ankles connected by a heavy silver chain which dangled across his chest, which was pulled tight, forcing him in a standing position with his arms at either side of his head, by the chain. If Castiel knew less about the man, he might find it excessive, but judging by his reputation Dean Winchester was not a man to be trifled with.

The tattoo branding him as one of the resistance fighters graced his chest above his heart a pentagram in a circle of flames, and while he was on the thin side, he still retained a strong physique likely because of the long tedious hours he was left alone, but unchained. Castiel couldn't help but admire the man, for the fine physical specimen that he represented. This was important to his goal; he needed a human who was desirable an example of human beauty to keep his brothers from realizing that he was not availing himself of his charms.

His face was clean shaven and it looked like they had attempted to clean him up some for his presence, he was freshly showered and his hair was cut short there was also a baton sized bruise along his ribs and he boasted a split lip and a blackened eye, but his good eye was a vibrant green even in the dim light Castiel could see the spark of repressed rage and animosity towards him. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"Castiel." The stranger replied. Dean forced himself to stand up straight even though his ribs were killing him. This morning five guards came in hit him over the head with the baton and trussed him up like this dumped buckets of water on him, cut his hair the best they could with him fighting against the chains and even ran a razor over him and shaved his beard. It was the closest Dean got to anything vaguely sharp that wasn't stabbing him in four years.

So when a strange man entered his cell Dean was expecting the damned Angel pope or something, but instead was surprised to find this rather unassuming, though attractive man was staring at him. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I mean what are you?" he asked, knowing the answer he would get.

The man was tall, but still shorter than himself, he wore a white dress shirt and dark slacks like most of the angels, his face was covered in dark stubble and bright blue eyes stared back at him with no malice. A slight frown furred the man's brows.

"I am an Angel of the Lord" Dean nodded, it figured that was the only reason somebody would bother cleaning him up was a visit from one of the winged dicks. The Earth was part of the Angelic Empire now and as far as the angels were concerned the humans could either join the union willingly and become slaves or perish. Dean took the third option and fought back, it landed him in this god forsaken hell hole for four years, but he never regretted his decision to follow in his father's footsteps.

John Winchester joined the rebellion just after the invasion. Dean was only four when the winged dicks showed up; one of them killed his mom right in front of him Sammy wasn't even a year old yet. He felt the familiar pain of regret and worry, as he wondered what happened to Sammy after he got captured, but he would be damned again before he showed any weakness in front of the angel. The angel… Castiel? Was studying him, his blue eyes intensely focused on his face, he stepped closer, and Dean wished desperately that his legs weren't shackled to the floor because then he could kick the angel away. It was freaking awkward having the man so close. "You ever hear about personal space buddy?" he growled as the angel firmly gripped his chin and began examining first the bruises on his face, he traced the line of his jaw pausing at razor cut from his struggles he laid a cool finger against his eye. Than his split lip before moving down to his chest with light featherlike fingertips that skimmed along the bruise sending streaks of fire where they had no right to go. No way was he attracted to the angel; it had just been a long time that's all. The angel's face was inches from his own as he studied him; his lips were full and looked inviting… a very long time Dean decided.

"We need to talk." The angel said suddenly his voice sounded huskier. He glanced pointedly towards the door. " Alone." Dean couldn't see if someone else was there from his angle, but he assumed either a human guard or another angel. Dean didn't bother forming a reply in his experience when angels wanted to talk it, usually; involved sharp pointed objects and there wasn't much from him on the conversation front.

Castiel could tell by the look on the human's face that he would not make this easy for him to say, strangely seeing him now made Castiel feel even more uncomfortable with the idea of owning this man. Even chained to the wall Dean was a powerful presence in the room, his anger felt like a live wire sending electricity crackling about them.

"I am here to help you Dean Winchester. I am going to take you out of this place." Castiel began trying to reason with the man. If he could get Dean to come with him willingly, it would make things a lot easier in the days to come. Dean nearly flinched at the mention of his name, so this wasn't just a random social call this was specifically about him.

"Get the hell outta here, an angel that wants to help me? There's no such thing." He aimed for sounding cocky and self-assured, but all that came out was stiff disbelief. The angel cocked his head to the side suspiciously like a cat watching its prey.

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Dean snorted; he was in a political prison, chained to a wall when the guards didn't torture him for information they forgot he existed. No one was here to help him unless they were here to shove a knife in his ribs and end it.

"Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling. So, who are you really? The angel looked hurt and confused again, but continued

" I told you."

Castiel was confused by the anger he saw in Dean as he continued.

"Right, and why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" the wrath behind the words were surprising. Castiel had not expected Dean to question his motives so vehemently he tried to reassure the human.

"Good things do happen, Dean." He said as gently as he could, knowing that what he offered may not be good it was the only good option available to either of them. Dean clenched his jaw and answered through his teeth all the pain, loss and mistrust in his life seeping out with his words.

" Not in my experience." Castiel frowned at the human.

"What's the matter?" Was he a martyr? Did he refuse Castiel's offer out of spite. Then it dawned on Castiel the realization made him sad.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved." Dean didn't reply; it wasn't a question and a denial would only serve to make him look weak. Instead, he waited for the angel to get to his point. They always had one; they were creatures of the master plan. The man said nothing, just continued to stare at him with that same sad look on his face. There was a loud knock at the door.

"Cassie the guard is here," another accented voice called out and still the angel didn't break eye contact. Dean felt a shiver crawl down his spine. What was with this guy? In his experience angels were not the laid back type. If Castiel wanted something from him, he was going about it very differently than the others had.

Castiel opened the door, letting the jailor inside; the man was human. Most of the service workers were, but the man glared at Dean, who smiled smugly. "Did you want him gift wrapped?" The man asked. Dean frowned, not liking how they were talking about him without talking to him.

"Hey, I'm right here." He shouted. They ignored him Castiel gave a barely perceptible nod and the jailor whipped out a stun baton.

"You just keep your distance, asshat." He threatened futilely chained as he was; he was unable to avoid the shock that instantly rendered him unconscious.

Castiel watched as his human was bound in a black straight jacket, forcing his arms across his chest, and a black bite guard was placed in his mouth. The collar at his neck was attached to a thick chain leash while his feet were shackled together to inhibit mobility. The guard nodded and left. Balthazar entered the room "He is nice to look at I'll give you that Cassie." He murmured. Castiel found himself nodding absently. Now that he had acquired Dean it was all too real, he wasn't sure what the next step was.

Obviously it was to take him home and try to help him acclimate to his new life as smoothly as possible. There was one more thing he needed to prove his ownership over Dean it was something he wasn't quite looking forward to.

Dean came to very slowly and realized that he was bound for someone else's pleasure. The angel was taking him someplace away from Hell, but considering that he was bound and gagged he was still a prisoner. "whooo th uck r youu? He demanded around the bar. There was another angel in the room, but Dean didn't care who that was this was between him and the bastard who had him tied up. Dean struggled to a kneeling position as the angel approached him, he laid a hand on his left shoulder there was a seething pain almost like he was burning him, but the jacket was intact. Dean muffled a scream not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition."