Here is chapter 11 for you to enjoy over Christmas.

CHAPTER 11

Officer Mark Hallow had taken Walker's place at the food queue and was watching Cross escort Dean across The Pit. His heart was pounding in his chest as he noticed the young prisoner's stiff movements while he was being led away. It saddened him. How could he stop this? Hallow knew that nothing could prevent his commanding Officer from doing what he wanted but he desperately wracked his brain trying to think of anything that might help the boy at his superior's mercy. As the pair disappeared out of sight, he glanced back to the line of men waiting to retrieve their meals, his inspection halting as his eyes rested on Sam. The kid was confused and it showed on his features. He held his tray in his hands but the colour had drained from his face and he remained focused on the last spot he had seen his brother before he was carted off through the barred gate. Sam's eyes shifted and locked onto Officer Hallow's briefly, causing the guard to cast his gaze downward. He couldn't look that boy in the eye knowing what was happening to his brother. As he looked away from Sam and his line of sight lowered, Hallow focused on the legs of the inmates. He noticed several pairs of legs splattered with congealing food from the earlier altercation and as quick as that, he knew how to help Dean.

The trees were tall, so tall that Castiel had to lean his body backwards in order to see the tops of them. Their silhouettes stood out against the purple sky like shards of glass. The forest floor was covered in a blanket of thick moss and as Castiel took a step, his foot sunk into its softness. The Angel carefully took in his surroundings, shafts of golden light filtered through the branches and the whispers of songbirds and gentle rustling floated on the breeze. Castiel drew in a deep breath and the scents of the forest filled his vessel's lungs. He could almost taste the aromas as he experienced the sensations the way a human would. He was beginning to understand the complexity of mankind and realised, the emotion that consumed their live's, truly was a gift. It seemed unfair that God's Angels were not blessed with the ability to feel, as the humans could. Castiel's mind wandered to the Winchester brothers. Their bond made a little more sense to the Angel now and he too could feel a pull of his own. His hand began to tingle as he remembered gripping Dean's arm in Hell. The boy was the very first human the Angel had ever layed hands on and that alone would tether the two together, always.

Castiel knew he would not find God here, the forest was too alive. The presence of the Lord would have calmed the hum. The Angel had to move on. He breathed in one final breath before disappearing into the air.

Dean's mind was racing and his breathing was still harsh from the incident in The Pit. He could feel the strong clasp of Cross' hand gripping his bicep as he was ushered through the gate and along the wide hallway leading away from the mess hall. The corridor was brightly lit with fluorescent strip lighting running in intervals along the ceiling. The walls were painted a faded white but were now garnished with an array of scuffs, chipping paint and patches of scratched graffiti. Either side of the passage was adorned with thick grey doors hiding empty rooms behind them. Each door had a window and as Dean walked the length of the hallway he tried to glance inside each one to pull his mind away from what was coming. Dean began taking a mental note as he walked. The first room he saw was empty apart from a few stacks of plastic chairs leaning against the far wall. The second room had a long table running through it's centre, furnished with ancient desktop computers for the inmate's use. Another room was in darkness and another was filled with metal framed bookshelves housing a collection of tatty looking library books. The last room Dean viewed was a limited gym stocked with a small selection of free weights next to a basic weights bench and a few worn floor mats with fraying seems. Soon enough Officer Cross manoeuvred his prisoner around a corner where the pair came to a stop infront of yet another locked gate. Cross pulled his bunch of keys from his belt, swiftly locating the correct one and unlocked the gate leading to the shower room. The Guard shoved Dean through the opening then turned to re-lock the door. The motion was seamless, something he had done countless times in the past and before Dean knew it he was trapped alone with the guard.

One by one the inmates with the food covered overalls reached the end of the line where Mark Hallow was stood. The guard began directing the men with food on there prison issue clothing to the table closest to him to eat their last meal of the day. Sam was next in line and he too was sent to sit at the nearest table.

"Sit and eat your food quickly." Hallow said to Sam, not looking at the hunter but instead keeping his eyes on the men behind him. Sam didnt say anything in response, he just did as he was told, although food was the last thing on his mind right now. Hallow sent two more inmates to join Sam and the others and after that, the line quickly filed through until every inmate was sat down eating. Hallow took that moment to approach the men who had been caught in the crossfire of the splattering prison slop. "On your feet, inmates." he stated matter of factly. "Put your trays away and let's move." he continued. The five men placed their trays on the trolley next to the waste bin and formed a line infront of the Officer giving them orders. Sam was the last to get up from the table and as he passed Officer Hallow to return his half eaten tray of food, he turned to the Guard and quietly asked, "What's happening?" The question had more than one meaning behind it and both men knew it. Hallow gave Sam the smallest of nods before addressing the group of convicts. "Everyone to the showers. Can't have you stinking up the place with all that shit on your clothes. Let's go!"

Dean was stood facing away from the guard. Cross was behind him, close enough for the inmate to feel the man's breath sweep past his ear. The pair were standing in the shower block. The cold, tiled room was large with a low wall built in the middle that came up just below chest height, separating the showers from the changing area. There were four small basins and one long bench in the section of the room that Dean was standing in. A tall steel shelving unit was bolted to the wall opposite the sinks, housing clean prison clothing on the top teir, towels on the lower teir and a mobile laundry trolly slotted into the bottom space, already half full of soiled garments.

Dean didn't know what to do. Should he turn to face Cross? Should he sit on the bench? Should he get in the shower? He could sense the pending explosion waiting to errupt from the C.O. behind him and anything Dean did now was sure to set the Guard off. The Hunter was screwed no matter what he did so he remained still, waiting for instructions.

"Turn around." Cross said, his voice steady with a hint of threat behind the words. Dean instantly stiffened against his will, his body anticipating attack despite all his efforts to remain unconcerned. He turned to face the C.O. with his head held high but his gaze lowered. He didn't want to look at the man who had forced him to his knees the night before. Instead, Dean stared at the buttons on the Head Guard's uniform, the overhead lights glinting off the small, silver disks as the chest beneath them rose and fell with each breath the man took.

"Let's get to it boy." Cross broke the silence. Dean didn't respond, except to raise his green eyes to meet the older man's dark ones. "STRIP!" He shouted, growing impatient. Dean flinched at the boom of Cross' command. His involuntary reaction caused a smirk to form on the guard's lips and Cross took a step back from his prisoner to get a better view of the boy.

Dean brought he clammy hands up toward his collar and began unbuttoning his jumpsuit. He was using all of his concentration to remain calm but despite how hard he tried, he could not prevent his hands from shaking as he undressed in front of Cross.

Bobby's truck pulled into his gravel driveway with a crunch. It was almost 7pm and dusk was falling. Bobby shut off the engine and cracked open his door, heaving himself out of the vehicle with a groan. He was aching all over now, drained from the worry which was getting stronger as the minutes ticked by. The veteran hunter had managed to scrounge all the ingredients he needed for the Angel summoning, calling in a few favours and owing some of his own in return but he was grateful to have so many friends he could turn to when it mattered. Being in somebody's dept wasn't so bad, especially when you knew you would always have those people to rely on in a crisis. Bobby moved to the back of his pick up and pulled a worn duffle bag out of the trailer, then made his way into the house. He walked down the hallway and into his kitchen, setting the holdall down on the table with a clunk. He stared at the bag for a moment and thought to himself. Maybe he should try simply calling the Angel's name, as Dean always does. 'Ya never know' he mused, scratching his beard. Bobby sighed loudly and looked up at the ceiling, feeling a little silly and called out, gingerly, into the silence. "Castiel?" he paused. "Cas, it's Bobby...I need your help." Bobby waited. After a minute or so he realised it wasn't going to work. "You old fool." he said out loud. It was a long shot but one worth taking in order to save on a summoning ritual. It just hadn't paid off, but he already knew that would happen. Bobby began clearing off the table to make way for the herbs, oils, candles and chalk needed to call upon Castiel. He glanced at his clock, it read 7:25pm. He needed to get to work.

The sight of Dean quivering brought a fresh wave of amusement to the Head C.O. and his smirk grew wider as Dean's overalls fell to his ankles. He slipped off his shoes and bent forward to free his feet from the jumpsuit, pulling his socks off with them. Dean's hands were now plastered with hardening mush that covered his clothing and as he lifted his white t-shirt up and over his head, he left mucky brown smudges behind. The dirty shirt fell with a soft thud on top of the orange mass of fabric already discarded by the inmate. Dean moved his hands towards his underwear but as his fingers reached the waistband, he froze. Images from the night before began to flash into his mind. A blindfold...a fist...gagging. Dean rubbed his eyes with the back of his forearm, trying to wipe away the images and the repulsion that came with them.

"Don't stop now." Cross raised an eyebrow and ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip as he waited for Dean to continue, but the hunter remained still. His eyes were glazing over and Cross noticed him begin to sway on the spot.

"MOVE IT INMATE!"

Dean's head shot up and his focus returned. Taking a deep breath, he removed his last piece of clothing and stood there naked, in full view of the animal who had the power and the desire to do whatever he wanted to him. They stood, staring at each other's faces, trying to read the expressions there. Cross was steadfast and didn't give much away except for the intensity in his eyes, burning hot like liquid fire. He wanted the boy stood infront of him and there was no hiding that fact. Dean was rigid all over. All his muscles bracing for impact, but his face was a blank canvas. He was determined not to expose the weakness that was comsuming him. "Well...go on then." Cross elegantly waved his arm in the direction of the showers. The action wasn't threatening in any way but never the less, Dean moved with caution as he backed away from the guard, stepping around the low wall and into the shower stalls.

Cross kept his eyes trained on his prisoner as the naked man moved into the shower area. The guard watched with great enjoyment and Dean walked over to the shower head furthest away from the C.O. and turned on the tap. The water came out in a sudden burst of cold spray and Dean jumped back as the freezing water hit his bare skin. Cross smiled callously as Dean slowly eased his body under the stream. The water was heating up steadily and Dean let the warmth soak into him. He felt so dirty and was relieved to have the opportunity to wash away those feelings, even though he knew he woud never truly feel clean again. Dean, who was still facing the wall, grabbed the bar of soap draped over the tap and began to lather it up. He started with his head, rubbing the soap into his hair, letting the water drag the suds down the length of his back in a foamy trail. Dean's eyes were closed as he began to scrub at his arms and chest with the soap. His movements were rough and deliberate, he wanted to erase all the shame that was encasing him. It was in that moment of deep concerntration that Dean heard the voice of the guard behind him.

"Turn around so I can see ya." Cross' eyes narrowed as he watched his prisoner turn to face him. The boy pushed his hand back through his hair, expelling the foam from his head as he used the other hand to shield himself from the unwelcome glare of the guard. The water from the shower head trickled into Dean's eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked several times trying to clear the droplets that clung to his lashes. Cross had now stepped into the opening that seperated the wet room from the changing area, effectivly blocking Deans only option for escape from him. The C.O. drew in a deep lungfull of humid air as he took in the sight of Dean infront of him, naked and dripping. The view was almost too much for him to take and he could feel himself stiffen with unwavering desire. He unzipped his pants, reached inside and hungrily pulled his erect penis from its confines. Cross immediately began to stroke himself as he looked his horrified captive right in the eyes, relishing the terror that was shining brightly within them. Dean's gaze lowered for a moment, resting on the motion of the Head guard's large hands as he fondled himself. He felt a sharp jolt spread across his chest and rest in the pit of his stomach, his body's instant reaction to the sickening thoughts now slicing their way through his mind. Dean's jaw became slack and he parted his lips in shock and disbelief.

"That's it, open your mouth nice and wide." Cross growled with a smirk on his face. "Move your hands boy, you can't hide from me."

However, Dean didn't move. He couldn't. He could not believe the situation he was in. How could this be happening to him? HOW!

"NOW YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

The hunter remained still. He closed his eyes tight as his frame became rigid with fear once more. Dean didn't see it coming. He felt a hard burst of pain explode through his right hip, the intensity of it bringing him to his knees. He managed to break his fall with the heels of his hands and was now fully alert, his eyes wide open and his body once again completely exposed. An angry red welt had begun to rise on the sensitive skin of his hip and upper thigh from the strong blow he had been delt by Cross' baton. The C.O.'s impatience had gotten the better of him and Dean's lack of response to his commands had infuriated the guard. Cross saw that Dean was not going to follow his orders so in a fit of blind rage, the Officer had grabbed his baton and swung it full force as he lunged at his captive. He felt the power of the blow reverberate throughout the solid black wood and travel into his forearm. The guard's pants were still unzipped and his hair had become dishevelled from the effort of beating his prisoner. Cross glared down at Dean on all fours and watched as he struggled to overcome the pain that was incapacitating him. The boy's body was a sight Cross hadn't layed eyes on for quite some time and the C.O. scanned the hunter's skin from head to toe, revelling in the sensations the naked man was drawing out of him.

C.O. Hallow had lined the inmates up and proceeded to lead them along the same hallway that Dean had walked twenty minutes earlier. The men walked silently in single file as Hallow marched them down the corridor, his keys dangling from his belt and footsteps being the only sounds piercing the air. Sam was last in line. His head hung low with the weight of uncertainty. What was going on? He couldn't bring himself to believe the obvious, but deep inside he knew what was happening to Dean. No wonder he refused to talk. Sam tried to comprehend the amount of shame Dean must be feeling and his chest ached for his brother.

The convoy of inmates continued to shuffel along, one infront of the other, Hallow keeping a steady pace. The walk felt like an eternity for the guard. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing but there was no other way to help Dean without Cross becoming suspicious of him. Mark knew the boy didn't want his brother to find out what was happening to him and he prayed that Dean would understand his reasons for leading Sam straight to him.

They reached the end of the hall and were about to turn towards the shower room enterance when Officer Hallow stopped suddenly. He turned to face the prisoners following him, halting them in their tracks.

"You assholes got five minutes to clean yourselves up...DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" Hallow spoke loud and clear, then once again turned his back on the group of men, retrieved the key to the locked gate of the shower room and pushed the dull brass into the lock firmly.

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THANK YOU AND MERRY CHRISTMAS XXX