Supernatural: Length of Chain (10/22)

[patriciatepes]

Author Name: Patriciatepes (Patricia de Lioncourt @ fanfiction.net )
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Jo, Castiel, Crowley, with an assortment of others in minor roles
Pairing: Castiel/Jo/Crowley triangle; with Jo/Crowley not being remotely romantic
Chapter Links: Prev | Next
Warnings: (For complete, whole story) Torture, swearing, blood play, knife play, sex, noncon, dubcon, fighting, monster death, character death
Summary: SPN Season 6. Jo Harvelle remembered dying, a hellhound at the cause. Imagine her surprise when she wakes up, a cursed necklace about her neck that binds her to the service of the current King of Hell, Crowley. When Castiel appears, she's sure that she's saved… only to learn the truth. Now, bound by a beautiful, cursed antique, Jo must do as Crowley orders, hunting for the answers to accessing Purgatory… or else.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any related characters. They belong to Kripke. No money made here. Art by the awesome casper_san.
Author's Notes: Written for the spn_hardcore_bb. And also for the hc_bingo wild card square, using torture. OMG, I so didn't expect this story to be as long as it turned out to be. Just a quick note on the rating: yes, there are some scenes that definitely require that rating. Granted, there are also several scenes that are of a much softer nature. A nice balance I would say. Also, huge thanks to my awesome friend and beta Kimmi! And to twisted_slinky for cheering me on as I outlined and helping bounce the many issues I encountered off her. Also, that thanks extends to my artist, casper_san, who was just super awesome. I know she was just as busy as I was trying to do other challenges while doing my art, so yes, huge thanks! Drop by her art masterpost and give it some love! Hope you enjoy!

Link to Story Masterpost | Link to Art Masterpost

Chapter Ten

Jo wasn't sure how she had managed it. But, after Crowley had finished with her, disappeared to deal with whatever business he had had waiting for him in Hell, she had pulled herself off of his bed, down the hall, and into her own room. And, even more surprising, she found the time to wash and tend to her wounds—the visible ones, anyway. She crawled into bed immediately after—hissing and gasping with every move she made—and fell fast to sleep.

She had no idea how long that had lasted. But, finally, she was awakened by a gentle shake to the shoulder. Considering the torture that Crowley had just put her through, that gentle move wasn't so gentle. She moaned, whining almost to the point of tears, before she pried her eyes open. Castiel, his brow furrowed, gazed down at her. Neither spoke for a moment, and then Jo finally pushed herself to an upright position.

"What is it?" Jo asked, her voice hoarse and painful after all the screaming.

"I have news of Sam," Castiel replied.

Jo's eyes widened. "What's wrong?"

The angel turned away, and Jo really wished he hadn't done so. She would have loved to try and read the expression on his face at that exact moment.

"He… is without his soul."

If Jo's eyes were wide before, then they were in danger of falling out now. She leaned forward, managing to keep all her noise of pain inside as she did.

"What does that mean? He doesn't have his soul? I mean, how did that happen?"

Castiel's head turned, as if he was looking at Jo but not.

"I am unsure. But, without a soul… he is morally different. He is not the compassionate Sam Winchester that you knew."

"But, you can get it back, right? His soul?"

Now Castiel turned, shrugging. "It's in the cage with Lucifer. I'm not sure that's such a desirable goal."

Jo pursed her lips. "Of course it is! Everyone needs a soul, Cas. Every human, at least. Now all the stuff that Samuel's said… it all makes sense now. There has to be a way to get it back."

"I'm sure Dean has made that his first priority now," the angel replied, taking a slow step toward the bed.

He hesitated, towering over her before he finally turned and sat on the edge of the bed—again putting his back to her.

"Was it… are you all right?" he asked, his rough voice almost a whisper.

Jo's breath caught, and her mouth opened before any words reached it.

"You heard me?" she whispered. Louder, in a growl that rumbled up from her chest, she repeated, "You heard me?"

Castiel sighed, nodding. Jo shook her head.

"I prayed for you."

Her voice was close to breaking. The sobbing and sadness and pain she had refused to show Crowley was now about to pour out before Castiel. She took a deep breath, desperate to control it now as well. She was not weak little girl, she told herself. She was a Harvelle. And Harvelles could handle a little torture… and disappointment.

"I heard you. I know," Castiel said.

"Why didn't you come? Was it because of Sam? Was it because you were helping Dean with him?"

Because she could live with that. She could forgive that. Castiel's eyes locked with hers for just a moment before darting away.

"Y-yes. That's it," he said.

She shook her head, her heart breaking.

"You're lying. And you're really bad at it."

Castiel stood, turning fully toward her.

"I am lying. I feared for you, Jo, should I appear again. I feared what Crowley would do to you. I must be careful about my interventions between the two of you. After all, you are his—"

Whatever else was following that, Jo didn't want to hear it. Her eyes blazing, she ignored all pain and leaned forward, jabbing a finger in Castiel's face—or as close as she could get to it from where she sat.

"I'm his what, Cas? His slave? His pet? Or were you just gonna stop? I'm just his? You know what, I'm glad you didn't show too. If I'd known that's how you really feel about this, that you honestly don't care that I'm basically Crowley's plaything. Just get the hell out of here, Castiel. Now."

"Your wounds. I can heal them," Castiel said, moving toward her.

Jo pressed her back as hard as she could against the headboard. "Don't bother. Just. Leave. Now."

Castiel paused, his hand still partially outstretched. It dropped like a rock as he nodded. With only the sound of wings on the wind, the angel was gone. And Jo finally sobbed. When all the pain, emotionally, was out, she found at least one small comfort in her situation. At least she was unable to hunt in this condition. If Crowley wanted her to drag in monsters, then it would have to wait until the wounds he had inflicted on her had fully healed.

Jo had no idea how long she had locked herself away in Crowley's manor. Not as long as she would've liked to, but, safely, she figured on a week or so. Her aches were finally fading, and the cuts were all scabbed over and healing. It was then that she learned of what had happened with the Alpha Vampire. And Crowley had been so kind as to come himself and tell her the tale.

He took a seat in one of the round-backed club chairs—as Jo, on a random boredom search, had discovered they were called—in the far left hand corner of the room. He propped his feet up on the low coffee table, and smiled at her like he was visiting an old friend.

"Quite a nice vacation you've been having here, dear, but it's time to get back on the horse," he said.

Jo was dressed rather comfortably, in a soft black tank and cloth black pants. She sat atop a perfectly made bed, her legs crossed as she hunched over a good book she had plucked from within the manor's library. She arched a brow at Crowley.

"You have a whole arsenal of hunters at your disposal. Miss me that much?" she asked.

"If you must know, yes. At least you've not lost me an alpha," he huffed.

This piqued Jo's interest. She marked her place in the book—not caring that she had dog-eared what was probably a very expensive antique—and leaned forward.

"An alpha? What alpha? And who lost it?"

And Crowley recounted the entire story. About how Samuel and his group, along with an ulterior motive-driven Sam and Dean, cornered and captured the Alpha Vampire, bringing him to torture in a facility Samuel had. But the eldest of the vampire race was just as strong as the other alphas, and a good bit more cunning. He escaped—but not before revealing a few secrets to the Winchesters and Samuel. Like the fact that Samuel was working with Crowley. And that Christian Campbell—and Crowley noted how Jo had met him, in passing, at the prison—had been possessed for a while now. And Crowley proudly mentioned that he now had Sam and Dean's help in gathering monsters, in exchange for returning Sam's soul.

"So, now that I've lost the Alpha Vampire, it's time that you get a move on with the shifters. I mean, I just don't have the patience to deal with those whining, mutant brats much longer," Crowley concluded.

Jo narrowed her glare on the King of Hell. "Go fuck yourself, Crowley."

He laughed. "You never learn."

She knew to brace for it. She been expecting the snap of Crowley's fingers since right before her little insult had escaped. She allowed only a minimal scream to escape, and Crowley allowed the antique piece of jewelry to stop its work after only moments this time. He shook his head, as if he had been bored with her reaction. Jo pulled herself out of bed, leaning a bit on the nearest bedpost a she locked eyes with Crowley.

"It's true then? That Sam doesn't have his soul?" she asked.

Crowley nodded. "Would kill for a nickel now without hesitation. So very useful when it comes to monster hunting. Isn't that wonderful?"

She shook her head, deciding that she needed to change the subject before she said something that would get her tortured again.

"So, did you get anything about Purgatory out of the alpha before he vamoosed?"

Crowley stood, crossing the distance to get right in her face to make his next point.

"Mind your business, girl. Haven't I already told you that?"

Jo expression hardened. "It is my business if I'm the one out there risking my ass to bring you these monsters."

"Yes, well, you and Samuel. And now the Winchesters. All in exchange for Sammy's soul."

Jo rested a hand on the post.

"Can you really do it? Get Sam back his soul?"

Crowley snorted. "No. I mean, being the King of Hell has all kinds of perks. Taking on Lucifer and Michael in the cage just to get their favorite chew toy? That's not one of them. But your favorite boys don't need to know that, now do they?"

"You're a bastard. You know that, right?"

Crowley looked away thoughtfully. "Might be. After all, I don't remember a lot about my father. I don't think I liked him."

Jo rolled her eyes. "So, you've got Sam and Dean thinking that you have something they want when you've really got squat. You must be so proud."

"Not squat, dear. There's still you. And I've got a sneaking suspicion that your time to shine is coming. Those boys are probably, if memory serves, gonna get real tired of working for me real fast. Then, when they have their little rebellion, I'll lord you over them. And you'll finally get to do what I brought you back to do. Ah, purpose. Isn't it grand?"

Jo growled, crossing her arms about her chest. Crowley was right. It was only a matter of time before Dean and Sam told Crowley to kiss their asses. Which would qualify as them becoming a problem now that they knew some of what Crowley was up to. Which, in turn, would lead to the conditions of Jo's little accord between herself, Crowley, and Castiel being met. It was all rolling downhill and fast. Hell in a hand basket, as her mother used to say.

"Well, I doubt you came by just to gloat. You have information on shifters, don't you?" she asked, desperate for a change of thought.

"I do indeed," he said, producing a folded newspaper from within his coat.

Jo held out a hand. "Well, let me get right on that."

He handed it over with a grin. "That's my girl."

Comments

[twisted-slinky.livejournal.com]

Gah! How does Crowley do it? One minute I want to flam-bey him, the next, he's all...



...and I'm smirking again at the candor between these two.

But that's exactly who Crowley is, and you've captured him perfectly.