Fandom: Supernatural
Features: Dean
Rating: PG-13 (due to slash and sex slavery implications)
Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by CW, not me.
Spoilers: Season 6 (sort of, not really)
Summary: Missing scene from "Clap Your Hands if You Believe" regarding Dean's experience during his 'alien abduction.' Slash, but only because the show itself suggested it to begin with. Dean relives meeting King Oberon and what actually went down when he refused to answer his brother's question.

"Dean…did you service Oberon, King of the Fairies?"

Dean Winchester lost the ability to speak at the sound of his brother's question. The glistening and most definitely not knowing look of the crazy fairy lady made him gulp out of pure, undisguised discomfort. With a duck of the head, Dean put on his least shifty face—unsuccessfully.

His eyelids flickered as a flash of memories floated through his thoughts. The sudden awkward moment felt like an eternity to Dean…

"Your name?" His Majesty King Oberon asked.

Dean was forced to answer to the floor as the king's guards manhandled him to his knees, head bowed. "Dean Winchester."

The eldest Winchester wished desperately for his gun, or at the very least his knife. They had been snatched from him as he protected his eyes from the blinding light of his abduction. Now he was helpless, held down by impossibly strong hands considering the size of his captors.

"Dean Winchester," the king repeated, rising to his feet and crossing the distance between them. Dean saw the small man's feet shuffle into view as his head was still bowed. Long fingers wrapped around his chin and pulled his face upward. "Human?"

"Yes," Dean grunted with a hint of pride. Of course, humans could be dicks too, but not quite the way other species seemed to be in Dean's experience. The faces of several of them came to mind: Zachariah, Uriel, Alastair, Azaezel…

Castiel.

Dean shut his eyes, only partially to block out the leering face of Oberon above him. The hunter shot a quick prayer to Cas, hoping desperately the angel could hear him from whatever messed up mothership he was probably deep inside right now.

'Hear me, Cas,' he thought. 'Get me out of here!'

"A very pretty human, don't you think?" Oberon asked.

"Yes, your majesty," one of the guards replied.

Dean opened one eye, shooting a questioning look at guard. "Pretty?" he scoffed.

With inhuman reflexes, Oberon struck Dean hard across the face. The slap didn't draw blood, thankfully, but it stung like hell.

"Sonovabitch!" Dean cried out, only to receive a second blow, this one resulting in a splatter of blood staining the floor.

"You will speak when spoken to!" Oberon hissed, stooping to put his angry face in Dean's.

Dean glared back, but held his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to kick this man in the balls…if aliens had junk the way humans did. Dean pulled a face at the thought.

Oberon smirked. "I like this one."

"What do you wish of him, your majesty?" one of the guards asked.

The king considered. Then, with a slow smile, he spoke. "Put him with my bedfellows."

'His what?' Dean thought wildly as he was dragged away. He tried to pull himself upright, to walk, but the guards insisted on keeping him on his knees. His jeans caught against the floor, yanking and tearing in places. "I can walk!" he insisted, but the guards ignored him.

Dean was thrown unceremoniously onto the floor, his head striking the hard surface before his hands could prevent the blow. "Damnit!" he yelled, partly to cover his grunt of pain and partly to shout something, anything, at those damned guards. "Assholes." Now that he had control of his own body, Dean was more pissed than ever.

"Are you all right?" came a voice.

Dean turned.

There were others in the room. Six of them, to be exact. They all looked human to Dean, three males and three females. They were scattered about the room, each with his or her own space on the floor with a mattress and assortment of possessions.

Dean turned to the one who had spoken, an attractive young lady who was seated closest to him. She held out a damp cloth to him.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the cloth and pressing it to his face. His cheek still hurt from the king's slap, and his head now throbbing with a dull pain. Dean sighed at the cool touch, then sobered. "What is this place?"

The girl smiled sadly. "No one knows."

"What do you mean, no one? How long have you been here?"

"Let's see. I've been here four months, but others have been here longer. Janice over there has been here for nearly five years."

"And no one's figured out what this place is in all that time?" Dean retorted.

The girl shook her head quickly, pulling away from Dean as his voice rose. She pulled her knees up to her body and hugged herself.

"Don't yell at her," one of the men said sternly, appearing to wrap a consoling arm around the shaking girl.

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "I wasn't trying to…I'm sorry, I'm just trying to find some answers."

"You're not the only one," the man snapped. The girl was clutching at his chest, which Dean suddenly realised was bare.

In fact, all of them were similarly 'dressed.' Dean glanced around the room; he was wearing more clothes than all six of them combined! 'Oh, this can't be good,' he thought. At least they were all attractive enough to pull it off…

The door shot open with a bang, and everyone in the room jumped. As two guards strode inside, the six original prisoners backed away, pressing themselves against the walls to put as much distance between them and the newcomers as possible. This left Dean in a crouch in the centre of the room.

"Dean Winchester," one of the new guards called.

Dean winced. "That's me."

A rustle of fabric sounded as the guard flung a garment to the floor in front of Dean. "His Majesty requests you prepare for him." And they left.

With a look of utter confusion, Dean lifted the garment with hesitant fingers: it was little more than white pyjama bottoms, and thin ones at that. "What the hell am I supposed to do with these?"

"You wear them," one of the other men said scornfully. "Don't you get it? You're one of us now."

"One of who?" Dean asked, irritated by his lack of knowledge regarding the whole situation. 'Cas, where are you?' Dean called out with his mind. 'Get your ass over here!' "What exactly are you," he asked aloud.

"We are the king's bedfellows," a woman answered. Janice, Dean realised, as she portrayed the most composure out of anyone in the room. "You do as your told."

"Or what?"

Janice narrowed her eyes. "You don't want to know."

A second door Dean hadn't noticed yet slid open, shining extra light into the room. Everyone turned to look at him.

"You must go," Janice said.

Dean stared down at the cloth in his hand. No way was he going anywhere dressed like that! With a huff, he pulled himself to his feet, garment crumpled in his grip, and strode to the door.

He shook his head. "You all really need to grow a backbone," he called over his shoulder as he crossed into the adjoining room. The door slid shut behind him.

"Whoa!" Dean cried, shielding his eyes as he discovered Oberon sprawled seductively across an extravagant bed, lazily popping cherries into his mouth. Oh, and he was naked. "Dude, the hell?"

King Oberon glanced over at the outcry. When he spotted Dean, he grinned lasciviously. "Hello, Dean Winchester."

Dean gagged a bit at the man's low tones. "Here, I think you need these more than I do," he said, hurling the white garment at the bed.

The king chuckled. "Such fire," he cooed, tossing the cloth to the floor.

Dean's eyes automatically followed the motion, and that's how he spotted his weapons lying on the bedside table. He nearly sighed from relief, knowing he now had even the slightest chance of getting out of here.

"But you wear too many clothes," said the king, returning Dean's attention to the present. Oberon got to his feet, crossing the space between them to tug at his jacket.

"Wait a minute there, little guy," Dean said, startled eyes wide. Granted, the king was clearly the tallest of this strange alien bunch, but Dean still wasn't having any of it. He tried to back away, but Oberon gripped his wrist and stepped around him, effectively blocking him.

"Dude, seriously," Dean said, turning from the need to keep this guy in his sights at all time. He whirled, but not before Oberon clapped a firm hand onto his ass. "Whoa!"

"Mm. By far, the best I've had in years," Oberon purred.

Dean almost gagged again. "All right, listen man," Dean said, stepping back to add distance between them. "And could you please put some clothes on? You're making me uncomfortable."

"Am I?" Oberon asked, slinking toward Dean as he backed away. "Would you prefer a different visage?"

"A what?" Dean asked, casting a quick glance over to where his gun lay. If he could just get to it…

"How about this one?" came a different voice, deeper and more gravely.

Dean froze at the voice. "Cas?" He turned, spotting the nude body of his angel friend where Oberon had been standing. A slew of swear words spilled from his lips as he forced himself to look anywhere but at Oberon's new form: a full height Castiel tucked away inside the body of Jimmy Novak.

The king was still skulking toward him, lust in his eyes. "I can see inside you, Dean Winchester. You cannot hide from me." He stepped purposefully into Dean's line of vision.

Dean swore again, shutting his eyes tight and backing away more quickly now. It wasn't long before the bed caught the backs of his legs. By then, he'd run out of curse words and just held his breath.

He peeked open one eye, glancing sideways at the bedside table just feet from him. He shifted toward it, looking away again to hide his intent. But whatever Dean might have been planning, it was derailed by the sudden touch of cracked lips on his.

Dean gasped, eyes flying open as Cas—no, Oberon, Dean thought with a mental shake of his head—swept his tongue across the hunter's lips. He stared at the point between Oberon's eyebrows, his own eyes wide as he watched Cas' face move against his own.

Dean reached back, hands groping for his weapons. Searching fingers found the handle of his knife, scooping it into his palm and bringing the gun with it.

He pulled away from the kiss with a grunt of exertion as he gripped the gun, knocking Oberon back with as much force as he could muster, then opened fire.

The last thing Dean saw was Cas' wide gaze, those blue eyes penetratingly clear before he was swallowed by the white light again. But he didn't stop firing, even slashing the air in front of him as it transformed back into the cornfield he had been in before this whole thing.

Dean stopped firing, chest heaving from a lack of oxygen. He breathed deeply, looking around at the empty field before lowering his weapon.

Dean blinked rapidly as a thousand thoughts clogged up his brain, wondering how on earth any of that could have just happened. Had the aliens teleported him somewhere? What kind of creepy set up did they have going on where humans were trapped as sex slaves? Well, not all of them, he thought, remembering how the king had to assign him first. But even so, those humans had been captured to serve that stupid son of a bitch!

Dean tucked his weapons away, patting his pockets for a cell phone that wasn't there. If he couldn't call anyone, he could at least try praying to Castiel.

At the thought, Dean's lips tingled. He raised a finger to them, remembering the kiss. He thought about Cas, the real Cas, and decided against calling for him. And Dean wasn't ready for that awkward encounter just yet. It'd take a while before he could look that angel in the eye again...

With a sigh, Dean trudged out of the cornfield, cursing when the Impala wasn't waiting for him, and began the long walk back to the motel.

Dean blinked back into reality, his brother and the crazy fairy lady still staring at him. No way in hell was he answering that question. No way.