Chapter Text
Castiel wandered down the dark road alone.
Despite having a large family with enough siblings to form at least three football teams, Castiel always felt alone. It's not that he didn't like his siblings; quite the contrary.
The Novak family always had issues, the main one being religious fanaticism. This was quite obvious, as almost everyone in the family had biblical names, just like Castiel.
In the past, when he was still called by another name, Castiel had a good relationship with his family, but that changed when he was 15. He doesn't remember that day very well (probably due to excessive alcohol use), but what he does remember is something like this:
"Novak ran out after stealing his father's liquor cabinet. His sister, Anna, only saw the pink dress twirl through the air towards the "sister's" room and followed.
— Cassie! Are you ready yet? You know we're late for church today. Dad will be mad at us! Cassie! — The older sister repeatedly knocked on the door when she realized it wasn't locked. As soon as she opened it, she was startled to see her "little sister" holding a clump of her own hair. — Cassie!? What have you done!? Dad will be mad at us, you little pest!
The black hair that used to be about 70 cm long was scattered on the bedroom floor. In one of the younger one's hands was a pair of scissors, and in the other was a clump of black hair.
It wasn't one of the smartest decisions he had ever made, but it was one of the best.
He knew his father would scold him and punish him for eternity, but it was something that needed to be done. He needed to cut his hair; he needed to be himself.
From a young age, he noticed the difference between how he saw himself and how others saw him. He was always called "princess" by his parents' friends for being well-behaved, getting good grades, and not causing trouble. The nickname wasn't meant to be mean, but why did it make him feel so bad? Probably because it wasn't for him. It was for Chuck Novak's "daughter," not him.
He cried while holding his own hair. He broke the pink lamp on his bedside table, tore down the wallpaper he always hated, knocked all the stupid products off his dresser, threw his stupid clothes out of the wardrobe while telling everything to go to hell. His sister, scared and not knowing what to do, called their father on the landline phone in the living room and made him rush out of the church to stop Castiel from destroying the entire room.
When his father arrived and saw the hair on the floor, the mess in the room, and Castiel's curses, it sent him into a deep fury. He grabbed his son's arm and made him face him.
— Cassie! What the hell do you think you're doing?!
— I don't care about any of this crap anymore — he was interrupted by a sharp slap to his face.
— Watch your mouth! Have you been drinking, Cassie!? — He tightened his grip on his son's pale arm, who looked away at the chaotic room and smiled briefly. — Look at me when I'm talking to you!
— Or what? Are you going to hit me again? Go ahead! I'm tired! Tired of you! Tired of this horrible dress! Tired of this mask I wear every damn day just to please you! — He moved away from the older man, looking him in the eyes. — To your disappointment, I'm not a stupid "princess"! I'm a boy, dad. — With a racing heart but an enviable calm, he continued. — I was never what you wanted. I'm sorry, but I can't pretend anymore. I'm a boy. And I hate that stupid name you gave me. I much prefer Castiel. — He finished and, at the peak of courage brought by alcohol, turned inside the room, grabbed his piggy bank, and left home heading to the street.
He didn't hear a single sound coming from the house. Probably, Chuck was still digesting all that information.
He first went to the pharmacy, where he bought adhesive tape and left. Then he ran to a thrift store where he bought men's clothing: a dress shirt, dress pants, and a cream overcoat. In the fitting room, he used the tape to bind his chest and changed clothes.
Castiel finally felt happy.
He paid for the clothes and left. He ran to the little square, laughing all the way. When he reached his destination, he sat on a bench in front of a pond and gazed at his own reflection.
He allowed a few tears to fall, but his smile never faded."
After that episode, he was kicked out of his house, but his aunt Amara welcomed him with open arms and raised him along with her four children until Castiel got a job and moved out. Amara is religious but not as fanatical as her brother. She's not a fanatic.
But getting back to the topic, Castiel was walking alone on the road. He was a 36-year-old man who had just left a happy hour with friends. He was too drunk to drive, so he decided to walk home.
He noticed a car slowing down as it approached him. He immediately tensed, fearing a robbery.
"Hey, buddy, want a ride?" the driver of the car, who appeared to be alone, asked. Novak noticed a tattoo of an oriental dragon on the man's neck, which he found stylish.
"Um, no? Thanks," Castiel replied. He quickened his pace when he realized that the guy was still following him.
"Relax, man, I'm not going to kill you or anything like that. This road is three kilometers to the next street. Get in."
"I said no. Thanks," Castiel replied. Discreetly, he dialed the emergency number on his cell phone, without actually making the call.
"And I said 'get in the damn car now,'" the stranger said, cautiously showing a revolver.
Hesitant, Castiel got into the car, hiding his cell phone in his pants pocket under his overcoat. He swallowed hard and looked at the driver.
He could only focus on the strange smell in the car and the menacing gleam of the gun barrel.
Minutes passed, and they passed the street of Novak's house. Castiel just watched the city disappear in the distance. The music playing on the radio was giving him a headache. Every now and then, the driver would sing along to the music as if celebrating the capture of the brunette.
Minutes turned into hours, but they finally arrived at their destination: an old house in the middle of nowhere.
As soon as the driver turned off the engine and unlocked the car, Castiel tried to escape but failed miserably when he was suddenly hit on the head, leaving him dizzy. Apparently, the bastard was a good runner.
"Idiot, don't make me kill you before the time!" The kidnapper led Castiel at gunpoint to the entrance of the house, where he opened the door that had been previously locked with thick chains and a padlock. The interior of the house looked like that of an old, seemingly normal house.
Still looking at the victim, the kidnapper locked the door
by simply turning the key in the lock and walked over to a counter, where he took out two plastic ties.
"Don't try anything funny, or your brains will decorate my wall," he warned, approaching and tying Castiel's hands, who swallowed hard.
The guy, affectionately nicknamed "attention-seeking son of a bitch" by Castiel, continued to lead him to a door that, once opened, led them into the basement. They went down the stairs cautiously. When the kidnapper turned on the light in the room, it illuminated two more people: a man and a woman tied to chairs.
"Son of a bitch! When I get out of here, I'm going to kill you, you piece of shit!" shouted the bound man.
"Sorry, what did you say?" The tattooed guy mocked, showing his gun and receiving a roll of the eyes in response. "I brought a friend to keep you company. Go on, cutie, secure yourself to the pipe next to this gentleman."
"Go to hell," Castiel replied.
The kidnapper's response was a punch to Castiel's face with the hand holding the gun. The criminal took the tie and, with a pull, secured Castiel to the pipe. Then he smiled, turned off the light, and went up the stairs singing some song.
Castiel, sitting on the cold, dirty floor, with a throbbing cheek, looked at the two people tied to the chairs. The woman had long red hair and pale skin, standing still and staring straight ahead. The guy, on the other hand, had dark blonde hair and an enviable physique, and he was trying to free himself from the ropes, although he had given up at that point. Tired, the guy stopped struggling and looked at the newcomer.
"Hey, what's your name?" the blonde asked, making the redhead shift her attention to the newcomer.
"Castiel. How long have you been here?"
"Over a day, I think. She was already here when I arrived, but she hasn't said a word until now. I'm Dean, by the way. I would shake your hand, but the situation's a bit complicated..."
Castiel just chuckled nervously. Amidst all the chaos, his calmness would be impressive if it weren't so concerning. He knew that if he died, no one would care. His family wouldn't give a damn.
Thinking of his family brought a sense of anger. "Why do I have to die when they're the ones causing trouble?" he asked himself.
Suddenly, he remembered his cell phone in his pocket.
"My cell phone! He didn't take my cell phone!" he told Dean in a hushed tone, getting as close as he could to him. "It's in the back pocket of my pants!"
The blonde looked at Castiel as if he were an angel but quickly snapped back to reality.
"And how the hell are we going to get it? You're in the middle of nowhere. How am I going to reach it?"
Castiel had to contain his nervous laughter and the urge to strangle the other.
Annoyed but knowing Dean was right, both of them were tied up and had about a meter of distance between them.
"Wait for him to leave the house. I have a plan."
And so they did. They waited in silence, well, not that silent, as the blonde kept humming a Metallica song.
There was a small vent in the wall of the basement, and they noticed that dawn was approaching. The adrenaline had left Castiel's body, giving way to hunger.
"How did you end up here?" Dean broke the silence.
"I was alone, walking on the road, and then he offered me a ride. I declined, and he showed me the gun, forcing me to get into the car," the brunette replied, looking at his own feet. "And you?"
"I'm a cop. I was investigating the disappearance of some people in this area. I actually interrogated this guy, but without enough evidence, I couldn't hold him. We crossed paths again at a party, I don't remember much, but I think he drugged me. I've been here since that night, I think."
"You're a terrible cop, then," Castiel said jokingly, earning a short laugh from the other.
They fell silent when they heard footsteps above them, which passed by and was followed by the sound of the door opening and the clinking of thick chains. In the background, they heard the car starting. At that moment, they both looked at Dean, waiting for the execution of the plan.
Dean firmly planted his feet on the ground, struggled to get up (still tied up), and pushed with all his strength, breaking the rear legs and the backrest of the chair with the impact. The ropes loosened, and the blonde managed to free himself quite easily.
He felt his legs crack as he stood up again (probably from sitting for a long time) and fell to the ground. The setback didn't stop him from crawling over to Castiel and grabbing the cell phone from his back pocket. He turned on the device's screen and, seeing that the emergency number was already dialed, simply made the call.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"Kevin?"
"Dean?" the operator replied, surprised.
"Yes! Kevin, track the phone, I've been compromised. There are two civilians here, and I need you to stay calm and follow the training."
"Understood. How are the civilians?"
"Tied up and scared," Dean replied, approaching Castiel to bite the tie off with his teeth.
Once he freed Castiel, he asked him to help the girl untie herself since he wasn't in the best condition.
"Dean, can you look out of a window? I'm tracking it, but you know, a range of 5 kilometers if we're lucky," Kevin sighed, stressed. "No... There's something interfering. I'm going to add Charlie to the call."
"The window is high, and I can only see tree trunks and dirt. Is she okay?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel, who approached the redhead. He received an ironic look and a shake of her head in response.
"I'm here, bitch, hang in there," Charlie joined the call.
The Winchester approached the woman to measure her heart rate (which strangely was normal), one less thing to worry about.
"Go faster, Charlie, we don't have much time," Dean said.
"What the hell is going on here? I managed to track it, but the signal is crap. You're somewhere in Topeka. We're informing the city and sending patrol cars to the area as the search expands. Hold on, Dean."
Aoba! You're very welcome to this project!
All chapters will have names of bands; I chose "Radio Company" as the first chapter because it's the band of Jensen Ackles with Steve Carlson, which means it's Dean's voice :).
If you decide to continue, happy reading!!