Outside These Walls [Destiel]

Chapter 9

It was harder to sleep in chains than Dean remembered. The metal scratched and bit at his wrists like rabid dogs, and the throbbing already in his body did nothing to help him take his mind from the pain. The time passed slowly, but he didn't mind as he simply took a deep breath, his ribs stinging with the effort, and looked towards the small slit in the building wall where the night sky just barely shone.

He had been in the camp for almost two weeks now that he had been in prison for three days, plus the four or five days of travel, which was close to another week. The army would have most likely found their exploded trucks by now, the shredded carcasses of the ones who did not make it through the initial shock scattered about the ground, unrecognizable. Dean reached up almost mechanically, his fingers brushing where his dog tag should have been. It hadn't escaped his notice that it had been gone, and he couldn't help but wonder whether it had been torn off, or someone had done it deliberately.

Without even noticing, he saw the sky grow lighter and lighter, and it wasn't until the door opened to his cell that he even realized it was getting close to dawn. A guard walked in, one that he recognized from the first walk over to the prison camp, and unshackled him, dragging him to his feet.

"You under permanent guard now," The guard growled, tugging on the chains around Dean's wrists and dragging him towards the exit. The chain was large enough for Dean to move his arms to his side, but it was drawn tight, not much use for anything else.

The guard was otherwise quiet as they walked, with only the occasional grabbing of Dean's arm and tugging him forwards. Dean stayed silent as well. If he was not provoked to fight, he wasn't going to. He would be no use to Castiel if he could not move after all.

The guard led him out into the open where another guard stood, the grin on his face making Dean's scowl instantly appear on his face, his eyes flashing dangerously as he met the man's gaze. The guard that had led him out of the building pushed him towards the man before disappearing back into the cells, leaving him to the mercy of the still grinning guard.

"Come on, queer," The man growled, though the word didn't quite come off as offensive as it did lewd and almost lustful. It made chills of warning crawl down his back, his face twitching with disgust as he began walking.

Dean nearly lost his damn mind when he felt a hand slide to his rear, a growl rising in his throat as he turned and stepped several paces away from the man. The guard didn't seem to care at all at being caught but rather brought the tip of his gun up, almost lazily pointing at Dean.

"Did I tell you move that way?" The guard sneered, his eyes lighting with glee as Dean's fingers began to tremble with anger. The soldier bit back a retort, turning away and beginning to walk again, his body tense as the man followed close behind, touching him every step of the way.

He was thankful when they got to the sand trucks, the guard letting go of him when the other's came into view. He slid into place beside Mills and Shadson, his hatred still making him tremble as he stooped, picking up a bag of sand and hauling the thing onto his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Mills asked as he carried the bag to the truck, walking beside him with a strength that most woman would struggle to match as she tossed the bag into the truck like it was nothing.

"I did not become a soldier to be felt up by the enemy," Dean hissed angrily once he was out of range of hearing from the guard, the chains making it hard to hold the bag, but still managing. He pushed his hated away though, focusing on more worrying matters, "How's Cas?"

Mills didn't answer him at first, watching him with worry that a mother would as she glanced from the guard that led Dean here and back to the soldier. Finally, she sighed, knowing that he wouldn't want to linger on the subject long, "He's losing strength. Shadson managed to sneak over there earlier and check on him and he says it's even worse up close. He looks about ready to collapse," She mumbled, and Dean froze in his work, the chains growing tighter in his hands as he grabbed the links fiercely to keep himself from running to the soldier, taking a deep breath to prepare himself before he looked over to Castiel.

The man looked weak, weaker than Dean could ever imagine him being, and Dean doubted it was just from the lack of food. Castiel looked completely broken, the paleness of his face only just accenting it. It made Dean's throat clench, his eyes wide as he watched the man struggle to pick up one of the bags, stumbling over to the truck and basically rolling it in to get it where it needed to go.

There was something off, and Dean knew that the man was injured by the way his jaw was set in a permanent clench. He was so frozen, that he didn't even notice that he hadn't been working, and it wasn't until the guard growled in anger that he managed to drag his gaze away, turning back to the sand trucks as if he were a zombie and pulling up another bag, his eyes darting back to Castiel as soon as he turned.

"He won't last long," The guard behind him growled, his words and the tone he spoke in making Dean's spine crawl with disgust as he shot the man a glare, moving over to the truck and setting the sand bag down.

"He can't even stay up!" The guard shouted with a guffaw and Dean turned his head in shock, seeing that Castiel had collapsed, not moving. Dean felt his panic rise and he hurried forwards, ignoring the guard's warnings with only getting to Castiel in his mind.

"Take one more step and his head is gone!" The guard shouted, bringing Dean to a complete halt. He hadn't even realized how far he had actually moved as he turned to look at the guard, staring at the gun that was aimed at the still fallen Castiel. He was shaking, and he didn't know when it started, but only that he needed to keep Castiel safe, no matter what.

"Please," Dean forced out, his words barely loud enough for the guard to hear, yet loud enough that all work ceased around him, eyes coming up to stare with either shock or pity, "No more."

The guard only grinned at him, seemingly pleased with the response, "Ready n' give away all you know?" He asked, but Dean shook his head, his desperation reaching his eyes as his throat clenched.

"I don't know, anything," Dean responded, his voice growing thick. Why couldn't these damn guards see that? What could he possibly have that was worth knowing about?

From the guard's face, that apparently wasn't the right answer.

"Then no mercy," The man spat, not bothered by whether or not Dean told him anything. After all, he could continue his sick, twisted game on the duo, which was plenty worth the silence, "Hope your toy sees it same way."

With that, the guard grabbed his chains and hauled him back to the work he was stationed at, and Dean's eyes searched back out Castiel in a desperation, seeing the man was being kicked to his feet by another guard.