Chapter Text
Castiel hated the outskirts of the city. Not even the high-quality air filters could quite remove the smell of trash, filth, rot, human waste and despair that rose from the shoddy “shelters” erected at the city limits. Bedraggled people dressed in rags and dirt, hair filthy and matted and crawling with insects, peered out from between the bits of cardboard and metal and rotted wood that made up the shelters to watch the big car. Of course. It wasn’t often such signs of wealth passed through here. This was the base of the huge opening where the city dumped its trash. The people who lived here did so by digging through the mounds of trash for anything they might be able to eat, use, or sell.
Next to him, Gabriel was actually holding a cloth over his nose and mouth. His face was scrunched into an expression of distaste. “Cassie, I swear, this had better be worth it!”
“You didn’t have to come with me.”
“Um, yes I did? My brother is going to a prison in the outskirts to make a huge mistake that will undoubtably cost him his money, his peace of mind, quite possibly even his life. How could I miss that?”
“You exaggerate.” Castiel sank back into the leather seats, his eyes on the passing scenery. It didn’t get any better as they traveled out. The crude shelters just grew a little farther apart. Of course. This was the slum section of the outskirts, too far out for the inhabitants to easily reach the city and access the mounds of trash. Here lived the poorest of the poor. Outside, a woman was scooping muddy water into a container. Three feet away from her a man was lying in the mud. He appeared to have been dead for some time. Castiel fought back a gag and looked away.
“I exaggerate? Me?” Castiel’s younger brother fluttered his hand dramatically. “Your words hurt me.”
Castiel ignored him. Ahead, he saw the first sign for their destination. It was only a few miles away. He straightened, focusing on appearing calm, collected, and in control.
“You look like you’re about to shit your pants,” Gabriel informed him.
This time Castiel glared at him. “I think it’s best if you stay in the car for this.”
“Hell no. I need to see just what it is that got you so upset and fascinated that you were up half the night getting a place ready for him. This guy must have really tripped your trigger, huh?”
“It’s not like that!”
Gabriel flinched from the sharp rebuke as if he’d been slapped. “Well well. Hit a sore spot, have we?”
Castiel forced himself to regain his calm, breathing deeply through his nose. Bad idea. They were still deep in the stench of the outskirts. “I’m not interested in a lover, Gabriel. All I want is some help around the house. This laborer has mechanical skills, and you know we haven’t had a decent mechanic since the last one finished up his time. He’s also rated highly for strength, good for physical labor, and unusually intelligent.”
“Scored high on physical appearance, too. Yes, Cassie, I peeked at the stats in that file you’re carrying,” Gabriel admitted, seeing the glare he was getting. “Twenty-nine years old, perfect health, high marks on physical strength and endurance, and good-looking? That’s pretty unusual for a laborer from the outskirts, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
“Must have cost you a mint.”
Castiel grunted, irritated.
“Nothing wrong with having a pretty boy in the house, right? What was his name again?”
“Sam. Sam Winchester.” Castiel was certain he’d regained control of himself now. His voice sounded steady and even to his own ears, not a trace of the tremors that had overtaken him when he’d first seen the man’s name. He’d known that name. How had someone like Sam Winchester fallen so far, gotten to the point where he’d living as a criminal in the outskirts and sentenced to forced labor? Worse, fifteen years of forced labor? That was the maximum sentence for anything short of murder. What could have happened? How could the kind, gentle soul who’d been Castiel’s first and only real friend end up in the outskirts, up for bid as a forced laborer?
Didn’t matter. Long ago, Sam had helped Castiel when he’d needed it most. Now it was Castiel’s turn. He’d been perusing the auctions, bored and suffering from another of his frequent headaches. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d been thinking about buying a new laborer for mechanic and general heavy labor work. His previous laborer had finished his sentence and been released. But there had been no urgent need. The current help at the house was fine, and it was nothing to pay for the services of a mechanic. High-demand, educated and skilled laborers were in short supply. The only contracts currently up for auction were for low-quality laborers. Most of them were illiterate. Nearly all of them were from the outskirts. Their lives were hard and cheap, their contracts long and just as cheap. The drudges of society, good only for hard, manual work. The vast majority had been arrested and sentenced to labor for drug-related offenses. Since the government had turned to forced labor as a punitive measure instead of imprisonment, the crime rate had dropped dramatically. Instead of being locked in cages with other criminals as bad or worse, creating virtual schools of how to be a criminal? Convicts were now used to better society with their labor. Hard work got them off drugs, gave them experience in skills they could later use, and benefited society as a whole. In fact, it wasn’t unheard of for the very poor to commit crimes specifically so they could get sentenced as laborers, just for the benefits of shelter, food, and state-sponsored medical care. Those Castiel was looking at could easily have been among them.
Then one name had caught his eye, and he’d frozen in place.
At first, he was sure it couldn’t be the same Sam Winchester. But a quick check on the ID number confirmed it. This was Sam Winchester, who had briefly attended the same school as Castiel. The same Sam Winchester who had stood up for Castiel when no one, not even his brothers, had been able or willing to do so. Sam Winchester, who had vanished as mysteriously as he’d appeared at the end of the school year. Sam, his friend for one year, one brief moment in Castiel’s life that he’d never forgotten. Now here Sam was, convicted and sentenced for burglary, assault and battery, extensive property damage and weapons offenses all related to drugs. Castiel’s heart had ached. Brave, strong, gentle Sam, brought so low over drugs? Up for auction as a laborer for anyone to buy his contract and work him into the ground? What if he was bought by one of those unscrupulous types Castiel had sometimes heard about on the news, the ones that used, exploited, and abused those under contract, even forcing them into outright slavery or prostitution?
No. Castiel couldn’t let that happen.
He’d spent hours bidding on Sam’s contract, making sure that when the auction ended, he would be the one to win. Then he’d launched himself into preparations. Gabriel hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said Castiel was up half the night. He’d torn through the spare bedroom he’d been using as an office, bringing the furniture from the old laborer’s room above the garage to turn it back into a bedroom and moving his office to the garage. He refused to force Sam to live there, where the temperature control was unreliable and the sound of vehicles would wake him early in the morning when Castiel’s brothers went to work. Sam would stay in the house, close to Castiel. What labor the man would actually do would be as limited as the legal contract allowed. No, Sam wouldn’t be there for hard work. Castiel would be able to visit him, talk to him. He’d help Sam any way he could. He’d teach Sam whatever skills he needed, get him ready to rejoin society. Once he’d served his sentence, Sam could apply to a trade school, or even college! He remembered Sam being extremely intelligent, even more so than Castiel himself. Sam could turn his life around. All he needed was a little help.
Gabriel was grumbling something, but Castiel paid no attention. They’d arrived at the prison. The big car was slowing, the driver preparing to stop and help them out. Castiel undid his seatbelt and smoothed his trench coat. “You can wait in the car, Gabriel.”
“Not on your life. I cannot wait to see this guy.”
Even several miles from the worst of the outskirts, the smell was overpowering. It hit like a wave when the door was opened. Castiel’s eyes watered. He headed into the building as quickly as he could, Gabriel hot on his heels.
The inside of the prison complex smelled strongly of sweat, illness, and stale urine. It was a toss-up if the air quality was better from the trash mounds.
“Sam Winchester had better be drop-dead gorgeous,” Gabriel grumbled.
“You can still go wait in the car?”
“You can still kiss my ass?” Gabriel was crowding Castiel as they walked, pressing close to his brother’s side. “Besides, I’m afraid if either of us got caught alone we’d never be seen again. We’re too pretty for prison, Cassie. I don’t want to squeal like a pig!”
“Why would you squeal like a pig?”
Gabriel blinked at him. “Deliverance?”
“What’s being delivered now? Pork?” Castiel looked around, completely confused.
Gabriel gave another deep, long-suffering sigh. “Never mind. Let’s just pick up your new pet and get out of here. The stench is going to permeate my hair and take hours to wash out.”
“Just use that stupid lavender bath oil.”
“Bite your tongue, heathen!”
Castiel ignored him again. Fortunately, the path was clearly marked. A moment later, Castiel was verifying his ID with his thumbprint and being directed to a waiting area. His laborer, he was informed, had already been cleaned, de-loused, and de-wormed prior to the auction. Normally, by now he would be ready to go. Unfortunately, he was proving unusually resistant to being barbered. He required sedation before his hair could be cut and his beard shaved. Castiel winced. “Why do you have to cut his hair?” he asked, remembering that his friend had preferred his hair longer.
“It’s part of the pest control measures,” the man at the desk told him. “Also, long hair and beards can hide sores indicating illnesses. Your laborer would have had a thorough check-up and blood screening, but it’s best to be sure.”
“Will he come with his own flea collar?” Gabriel asked pleasantly. Castiel elbowed him in the ribs.
“Um, we’ll be certain that your laborer is free of all insects before...”
“Ignore him. When can I see Sa... My laborer?” Castiel asked.
“It shouldn’t be longer than an hour. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Castiel grabbed his brother by the arm and roughly pulled him to the seats.
“Ow! Cassie!” Gabriel whined and pouted like a petulant child. “Stop being so mean!”
“Stop being such an idiot!” Castiel hissed. He gave his brother a shake. “This is important to me, Gabriel. I swear, if you do anything to mess this up, I won’t speak to you for a week!”
Gabriel’s amber eyes blinked, then went wide. “Cassie!” he whispered. “You know this Sam Winchester? Then you can’t buy his contract! That’s illegal!”
“Shut up!” Gabriel winced as Castiel dug his fingers into his arm. “I know what I’m doing. But you need to just be quiet and let me handle this.”
Gabriel’s face looked odd. It was rare that he wore a serious expression. “Castiel, this is serious.”
“It must be, for you to actually utilize my full name.”
“This is no joke!” Gabriel leaned closer, lowering his voice even more. “The law says you can’t buy a contract of a present or former relative, spouse, romantic interest, friend, or acquaintance. You can’t bid on anyone you know. That’s how they keep people from buying their friends and family back. If you do it anyway, you could be arrested, possibly even sentenced as a laborer yourself!”
“Don’t worry about it,” Castiel said through clenched teeth. “I only knew Sam for a year in school...”
“Then it’s on record?”
“...And I have no memory of him,” Castiel continued. “It was a long time ago. I could hardly expect to find an old schoolmate up for auction as a convicted laborer, right?”
Gabriel stared at him. “That’s the angle you’re going with?”
“If I’m caught, yes.” Castiel narrowed his eyes. “No reason for me to get caught, though, is there?”
Gabriel sighed. “I’ll look up recipes for loaves of bread that are good for hiding metal files in for when they throw you in a cell here, Cassie.”
“Mr. Novak?”
“Yes?”
Both of the brothers had automatically responded. Castiel glowered at Gabriel, who shrugged. “I’m Castiel Novak,” Castiel called, getting up.
“Your laborer is ready. He’s still sedated, I’m afraid. You can wait until he’s more alert?”
“No, I’m ready to take him now.” Castiel was already rolling up his sleeve as he approached the desk.
The man smiled. “I see you’ve had a laborer before.”
“I have.”
“Good, then we’ll just go over the basics, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” He was already holding out his left arm.
The man nodded and produced a metal bracelet. “This is your control,” he explained as he sized it around Castiel’s wrist. “It’s waterproof, shockproof, magnet-proof, and has an internal battery with a twenty-year life. Once it’s on, it will register your biometrics. If the bracelet is removed or your biometrics cease before the stop codes are input by authorities, it will deliver an incapacitating shock to the laborer and immediately alert authorities. The bracelet contains a code that can be scanned and used to track your laborer to within 200 feet. This is the new model, with voice commands. Are you familiar?”
“I am not?”
“Alright, it’s simple. The corrections are of increasing duration and intensity. Along with the standard buttons that can be activated for short and mild, moderate and intermediate, or long and intense corrective shocks, you can also choose to use voice commands. You can say ‘Shock one’ for the lightest shock, ‘Shock two’ for moderate, and ‘Shock three’ for the hardest. All we need to do is have you speak some phrases to tune it to your voice.”
Easy enough. Castiel read the phrases and was told that his control bracelet was ready to be linked to his new laborer. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where he’d ever have to deliver a correction to Sam, but if nothing else, it would make Gabriel happy. Already, he could see his brother from the corner of his eye, pacing and shooting worried looks at his back.
Castiel finished quickly, thanked the man, and went out to the front to have his bracelet linked to Sam’s collar. “You’re bouncing on your toes,” Gabriel informed him quietly.
Castiel forced himself to hold still. His eyes were locked on the heavy steel doors where his old friend would soon appear. There. The doors were opening and two guards were coming out. Between them, partially stumbling along and mostly being dragged, was a man. The man’s head was hanging low, swaying on his neck as the guards moved him forwards. Apparently, they’d had to sedate Sam more than they’d indicated.
Castiel eagerly stepped forward, displaying his bracelet to the uniformed man that followed the guards and Sam. “Castiel Novak.”
“Alright, Mr. Novak, this is Sam Winchester, your new laborer. Let’s get you linked up.” There was a beep, the man’s scanner reading Castiel’s bracelet. Then he moved to scan the collar on Sam’s neck. Sam didn’t move. If the guards hadn’t been holding onto his handcuffed arms, Castiel had no doubt he would have fallen flat on his face. Castiel forced himself to remain impassive. Don’t call his name. Don’t reach out to him. Don’t do anything that would give him away. Just wait. Soon, you’ll have him home.
“Bit of advice.” It was one of the guards. “Don’t be shy about using the corrections. This one’s a handful. Frankly, I’m amazed he went for as much as he did.”
“He acts up too much, you can always bring him back,” the other suggested.
“He’s not a dog!” Castiel snapped in spite of himself. “Whatever his crime, he’s a human being. He’ll be treated with the respect he deserves.”
The guards exchanged looks and shrugged. “Good luck, pal.”
“Alright, we’re finished,” the third man called. “Go ahead and give him a short correction so we can be sure the link works.”
Oh. Castiel forced his face into a blank and gingerly pressed the first button.
Sam gave a small yelp and jerked up. His eyes were wide as he blinked, looking around as though he wasn’t quite sure where he was. They landed on Castiel, and Castiel stopped breathing.
“There you are, Mr. Novak,” the man was saying, oblivious. “We’ll bring him out to your vehicle, remove the restraints, and he’s all yours.”
“Thank you.” It took more energy than Castiel knew he had to say the words.
Gabriel was shooting him looks, but fortunately he kept his head. “Sam, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us. Do you need to stop in the bathroom?”
“I’m ok.” He shook his head to clear it. “Wouldn’t mind a nap, though? These assholes shot me up with something.”
“Shut up and get moving,” one of the guards grumbled.
Castiel followed silently, watching as the guards loaded their prisoner with minimal finesse and a bit too much force into the car. Then he was climbing in with Gabriel, and they were headed back home.
Gabriel was still eyeing Castiel. “So Sam,” he called, “you’re a mechanic?”
“Yeah,” was the sleepy answer. “I can fix pretty much anything with an engine in it, even those stupid hybrids.”
“Good. We can use you then.”
This time his answer was a slight snore. Gabriel shook his head. “Stimulating conversationalist, isn’t he? Ok, he’s out, so you want to tell me why you’re staring at him like he’s sprouted two extra heads?”
“It’s not him.” The words came from numb lips.
Gabriel blinked. “What do you mean, it’s not him?”
“It’s not him.”
Now Gabriel looked harder at the snoring man. “But you checked out his ID?”
“I did. The ID is Sam’s but this isn’t Sam. It’s his brother. Dean.”
“Dean?” Gabriel frowned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“He gave me a black eye in school. Dean was my biggest bully, the reason we got taken out of school. He was beating the hell out of me until Sam put a stop to it!” Castiel’s fists were clenched. “Now he’s committed crimes under his brother’s name. He’s given Sam a record he doesn’t deserve! By law, Sam could be arrested today and forced to fulfill Dean’s contract, because that’s his ID that holds the sentence!”
“And now you hold his contract.”
Gabriel’s voice had been quiet. But it silenced Castiel immediately. “You’re right,” he growled. “I do.” His hand moved, tracing over the correction buttons on his control bracelet. He hadn’t saved Sam. He’d purchased the contract of the last person he’d ever wanted to have as his laborer in his home. But maybe, just maybe, something good could come of this after all.