"Please don't punish me." Raphael begged as he sat back on his knees, staring at Lazar with such misery. He wondered what it was. The whip. Fire. His wings again. He couldn't take the pain of his wings, they never recovered but they could always be hurt more and more.
At the mention of a toy, he shook his head, not sure what it was but he assumed it would be painful and would hurt a lot.
"Just a chew toy, my little puppy. I'm afraid I've already had a bit of a go at it, but you'll understand. I was quite angry." Understandably so, Lazar felt. He clapped his hands twice in rapid succession and one of the guards dragged him inside.
The younger brother. The one with demon blood. Lucifer's vessel. Samuel Tenaz, currently unconscious. Probably because of the head wound that had matted some of his thick hair to the side of his head with blood. He had obviously received quite the beating, which wasn't surprising. Lazar had a temper.
"Leave him," he told the guard, who dropped the human rather unceremoniously and then left again.
Raphael didn't move. It wasn't wise to move. He just stayed put. He looked at Sam briefly but he knew what he had to do. He wasn't loyal to Sam, Sam wasn't going to help him, Sam was going to die here. Lazar was the only one who had any say or control. He had to be smart. He had to reduce his punishment.
So he didn't say anything, he didn't react, he just looked at Lazar with wide, bright eyes. Waiting for his orders. Waiting to be told what to do or what to feel.
He knew how to submit in all possible ways, even in situations are dicey as this. "Sir?"
"It's your toy. You picked it out. You brought it here." Indirectly, but still. "Play with it, break it, I don't care. Up to you. And I'll ponder your punishment." He had to ponder that reaction, first of all. Raphael was a good boy still, now he had no real doubt about that. Yet here he was, with a Tenaz brother under his roof. He had to consider his moves here.
"Be good." With that last ominous order, Lazar turned to walk out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind him.
Be good. That was all he was told to do so he did what he felt was the safest. He found the nearest corner, wrapped his arms around his legs and hid his head. This position was safe for everyone. For himself and for Sam. This was a game. A trick. An illusion maybe. Lazar would be watching.
And he had already done bad. Done bad and Lazar knew. He had to be nothing but perfect now if he wanted to keep his wings out of harms reach.
Waking up from unconsciousness was never a pleasant experience and hardly ever led to anywhere good. Sure, sometimes he might wake up and the battle was over and they'd won the day. Usually though, things were somehow even worse than before. In this case, Sam had to remember what before even was.
He'd been trying to summon Raphael, which felt foolish. Hoping for something that was not going to be true. He had felt so stupid to even try, he hadn't told anyone what he was trying. That way he would not have to face their looks if he was inevitably wrong.
Of course, instead he was worse than wrong. Some demon beating him. His head was throbbing now. He reached up and felt blood in his hair, still not entirely dry. At least he must not have been out for long. Sam opened his eyes finally, his vision blurry. He braced himself with a hand on the ground and sat up. Looking around, he spotted nothing much at first. Cage in the corner, no windows. A locked door.
He turned his head again and then he spotted something. Someone. "Hey." Another prisoner? "Hey, you all right?" He couldn't make out much, with the way the person was huddled in the corner.
It was a test or a trick, he wasn't sure which but he didn't do anything but tighten his grip around himself. He licked the blood from his split lip and wondered why nothing was healing any more. Every hit that got dished out lately left marks and bruises. Every part of him ached and he really wanted to go back to sleep. Not that he would. Or could.
It seemed more trouble than it was worth. He just tried his best to turn his mind off. He couldn't think. If he thoughts, if he wanted, if he wished - he was a dead man.
His body ached, but Sam was used to it. Beatings were hardly an uncommon occurrence in his life, constantly going up against creatures that were far stronger than him. He moved gingerly, but he did move, getting closer to what might be a fellow prisoner. He was wary enough, he had his guard up.
At least until the moment when he was finally certain what he was seeing. There, in dirty, torn cloth and with hair that had no bounce, huddled and trembling, sat the Archangel Raphael.
"Fuck." Right, maybe not the best word to use here. "Raphael?" He reached out and tried to touch the angel's shoulder. "You're alive..."
Raphael flinched and recoiled from Sam, pressing himself deeper into the corner. He looked up at him briefly, eyes wide and full of mistrust, before he wrapped his arms even tighter around himself and hid his head again. What did Lazar want? Toy? How was Sam a toy? What was he expecting from Raphael now?
How did he handle this? Was Lazar watching? There were too many questions in his head and not enough answers. He just wanted to be a good boy.
"All right. All right, don't worry. I won't try to touch you again." Sam said it in a gentle voice, which was definitely not a voice he had ever used to address Raphael. Usually he had yelled at him to cut the bullshit, been exasperated or at the very least annoyed and, admittedly, sometimes entertained. But this wasn't the boisterous trickster that pretended to be Loki, this wasn't even the clearly scared angel he had watched stand up to Lucifer.
This was someone who had been reduced. Looking at him, feeling him... Almost human. "What happened to you, man?"
Raphael didn't leave his position. He stayed locked against the wall, still and quiet, almost in a trance. He had learned to do it while here, to block out as much as he could and just be empty. It was the only safe space he had. And he tried his best to be silent as he heard Sam move around and inspect the place, likely get frustrated over the lack of exit and that one uneven part of the floor.
All the guards tripped. It used to be funny. It didn't get a laugh from him any more. Not after one of the guards beat him over it and Lazar just watched.
Shivering, Raphael sniffed lightly and raised his head, eyeing up the door to the outside. What was Lazar planning? Why was Sam with him?
Some vague ideas for escape plans were forming, but right now the state of Raphael was difficult to keep at the back of his mind. Sam kept glancing over to him, wondering whether he could talk. His mouth had all those strange wounds. Wondering whether he would even want to talk to him. Maybe not. Maybe he was too scared.
So here he was, poor, mortal Sam Tenaz, trapped by a demon who had somehow reduced an archangel to this. Seemed as if it would be a tough time. "It was you in that dream, wasn't it? It was really you. I knew something was off. It feels different. Reminded me of Lucifer."
Raphael nodded his head slowly. Yes, the dream was real and the source of all of his pathetic misfortune. He had a few ideas why and what may have happened but he couldn't voice them here. Lazar would know and he'd hurt him. He'd cut his head open and scramble his brain if he had to, whatever it took to keep him here.
He raised his hand and touched his mouth, threads still hanging from his lips. He scratched at them in frustration. They hurt but he was afraid to take them properly out. Lazar didn't say he was allowed.
"Can I help you?" Sam moved closer again, finally sitting down in front of Raphael. Within touching distance but not touching him yet. He gestured to Raphael's mouth. "I could clean it up a bit. Maybe you could heal."
Angels were supposed to heal fast, to not even get hurt. He supposed with Raphael being this weakened, that must have changed. "Don't worry. It'll be fine."
They weren't going to be stuck here forever. Sam would find them a way out. Or Matty was going to get him out. He knew that with certainty.
Raphael looked at Sam, feeling strange inside. He was here. Really here? He wasn't sure still but he assumed so. He wanted to touch him but he wasn't brave enough yet. Even Sam sitting this close to him made his body tense up, his limbs trembling from the effort. He scratched at his mouth again, helplessly, looking at Sam.
But he didn't move away from him. He didn't escape. He just gritted his teeth and watched Sam. No, it wasn't fine. Nothing was fine.
"Hold still, man. I'll help, yeah?" He moved slowly and reached out again. This time he tried to gently pull out whatever it was that was trapped in those strange wounds. Part of his brain knew exactly what it was seeing, but it still refused to make sense of it. It was too grotesque, too cruel. Too wrong, doing something like that to someone like Raphael.
Raphael nodded his head slightly. It was better. It itched less and it was kind of nice. Not the sort of nice he was allowed. Gentle touches were always mocking. Sometimes Lazar stroked his hair or made him sit on his lap, sometimes he kissed his cheek with a strange kind of tenderness but it wasn't real softness. It was something much worse.
He looked at Sam properly and then finally, he worked up enough courage to poke Sam. Yes, he poked him. Right in the chest. If he was an illusion, he was a damn solid one. Jesus, this man was build like a wall.
"Guess we are both the real deal, huh?" Had to be. He had touched Raphael now. And, sure, it could be a shapeshifter. Could be an illusion and some sort of trick. But surely anyone who wanted to trick him with Raphael would have done it differently. Would have gone the route Metatron had tried with Castiel. Have Raphael be full of his usual swagger and attitude, pushing him into whatever manipulation was needed.
This wasn't a trick. No one could even conceive of this if it wasn't real, Sam was certain of it. "Are you going to keep giving me the silent treatment? Damn. Never thought that day could come."
Raphael looked at Sam and then looked behind him, clearly watching it for signs of Lazar. He didn't trust Lazar not to appear the moment he opened his mouth. He raised his hand to his own face and got some blood from his mouth, slowly taking his finger down to the floor.
There, he wrote in an old Norse language, a long dead one. something he knew Sam had studied once to crack something he had been doing. He drew one symbol then another slowly.
Danger. Stop.
He gave Sam a moment to look at it and then hastily smudged it away as quick as he had written it.
Sam watched what Raphael was drawing on the floor and, with a sigh, he simply nodded. Made sense, it wasn't as if he could blame him for that. Of course they were being watched, probably listened to. But Sam had so many questions to ask, so many things he wanted to tell Raphael. Only some of them were about why the fuck he was even alive.
He looked at where Raphael's blood was smudged now, another plan forming in his head. Especially as he glanced towards the ceiling. People often underestimated the height advantage.
"Fine. Be quiet." It made him want to sleep, with the vain hope that Raphael might be able to enter his dreams again. "But that means that I'm not gonna tell you what you've missed on Glee."
Raphael followed Sam and his line of sight. The ceiling. Oh no. He was thinking of the old circle trick. He and his brother always tried to pull that one. Raphael made his first proper audible noise - a strange, panicked yelp. He shook his head insistently, looking at Sam with terrified eyes. No tricks, no traps, nothing to piss off Lazar or he'd be mixed up in it and he was always up for punishment.
He just wanted Sam to stop looking around all shifty and sit down. There was a shitty old mattress on the floor and he pointed at it insistently.
"Are you grounding me?" It was humorous, as long as he didn't think about it too long. As long as he didn't let his mind linger on just what horrors had to have befallen Raphael for him to be this terrified of upsetting their captor. He didn't even know the damn demon's name, which was astonishing. How had some no name demon managed to get the archangel Raphael under his control?
Sam shook his head, but he did move over to the mattress. Lying down on it, he glanced at Raphael. "What, aren't you gonna tuck me in?"
Raphael watched Sam sit down and then finally, he relaxed. His body slid down the wall and he wrapped his arms around himself. His head was pounding, he was so tired and he had a punishment on it's way. It was hard to get comfortable. He shook his head slowly and then closed his eyes.
Then forced them back open. Sleep wasn't allowed. He grunted and whined as he forced his eyes open wide.
"Can't sleep, huh?" Shouldn't sleep, more likely. Sam was really only working off of context clues here, but clearly the whole dream thing had made Raphael uneasy. To say the least. It had also royally screwed over Sam by extension, so maybe dreaming was a bad idea.
"There's some tricks to staying awake." Sam tried to think of one that didn't require coffee or anything else they couldn't obtain right now. "Maybe I should tell you what you missed on Glee." Might keep him engaged. "Not really my kinda show though. I'm more of a documentary kind of guy. Matty watches it. Then lies about watching it."
Tiredly, Raphael dropped on his side in the corner on the cell, curled into himself, lying down and just watching Sam. It was fun to have company and he had no idea how much he missed it. He had been around demons only for however long it had been, not a single pleasant conversation and often lots of beatings. It was nice to just listen to idle chatter.
Sam always had such a nice voice. He wondered if Sam had any sort of idea how bad it was going to be. How awful it would be for him. How much he'd suffer for acting as he was. That was not submission. He would have to learn but for now, he could enjoy it. His eyes remained focused on Sam, clearly engaged despite everything. What was happening on Glee?
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waywarddone2024-09-20 07:08 pm
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At the mention of a toy, he shook his head, not sure what it was but he assumed it would be painful and would hurt a lot.
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The younger brother. The one with demon blood. Lucifer's vessel. Samuel Tenaz, currently unconscious. Probably because of the head wound that had matted some of his thick hair to the side of his head with blood. He had obviously received quite the beating, which wasn't surprising. Lazar had a temper.
"Leave him," he told the guard, who dropped the human rather unceremoniously and then left again.
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So he didn't say anything, he didn't react, he just looked at Lazar with wide, bright eyes. Waiting for his orders. Waiting to be told what to do or what to feel.
He knew how to submit in all possible ways, even in situations are dicey as this. "Sir?"
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"Be good." With that last ominous order, Lazar turned to walk out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind him.
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And he had already done bad. Done bad and Lazar knew. He had to be nothing but perfect now if he wanted to keep his wings out of harms reach.
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He'd been trying to summon Raphael, which felt foolish. Hoping for something that was not going to be true. He had felt so stupid to even try, he hadn't told anyone what he was trying. That way he would not have to face their looks if he was inevitably wrong.
Of course, instead he was worse than wrong. Some demon beating him. His head was throbbing now. He reached up and felt blood in his hair, still not entirely dry. At least he must not have been out for long. Sam opened his eyes finally, his vision blurry. He braced himself with a hand on the ground and sat up. Looking around, he spotted nothing much at first. Cage in the corner, no windows. A locked door.
He turned his head again and then he spotted something. Someone. "Hey." Another prisoner? "Hey, you all right?" He couldn't make out much, with the way the person was huddled in the corner.
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It seemed more trouble than it was worth. He just tried his best to turn his mind off. He couldn't think. If he thoughts, if he wanted, if he wished - he was a dead man.
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At least until the moment when he was finally certain what he was seeing. There, in dirty, torn cloth and with hair that had no bounce, huddled and trembling, sat the Archangel Raphael.
"Fuck." Right, maybe not the best word to use here. "Raphael?" He reached out and tried to touch the angel's shoulder. "You're alive..."
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How did he handle this? Was Lazar watching? There were too many questions in his head and not enough answers. He just wanted to be a good boy.
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This was someone who had been reduced. Looking at him, feeling him... Almost human. "What happened to you, man?"
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All the guards tripped. It used to be funny. It didn't get a laugh from him any more. Not after one of the guards beat him over it and Lazar just watched.
Shivering, Raphael sniffed lightly and raised his head, eyeing up the door to the outside. What was Lazar planning? Why was Sam with him?
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So here he was, poor, mortal Sam Tenaz, trapped by a demon who had somehow reduced an archangel to this. Seemed as if it would be a tough time. "It was you in that dream, wasn't it? It was really you. I knew something was off. It feels different. Reminded me of Lucifer."
Always a great thing to happen.
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He raised his hand and touched his mouth, threads still hanging from his lips. He scratched at them in frustration. They hurt but he was afraid to take them properly out. Lazar didn't say he was allowed.
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Angels were supposed to heal fast, to not even get hurt. He supposed with Raphael being this weakened, that must have changed. "Don't worry. It'll be fine."
They weren't going to be stuck here forever. Sam would find them a way out. Or Matty was going to get him out. He knew that with certainty.
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But he didn't move away from him. He didn't escape. He just gritted his teeth and watched Sam. No, it wasn't fine. Nothing was fine.
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"There. Isn't that better?"
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He looked at Sam properly and then finally, he worked up enough courage to poke Sam. Yes, he poked him. Right in the chest. If he was an illusion, he was a damn solid one. Jesus, this man was build like a wall.
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This wasn't a trick. No one could even conceive of this if it wasn't real, Sam was certain of it. "Are you going to keep giving me the silent treatment? Damn. Never thought that day could come."
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There, he wrote in an old Norse language, a long dead one. something he knew Sam had studied once to crack something he had been doing. He drew one symbol then another slowly.
Danger. Stop.
He gave Sam a moment to look at it and then hastily smudged it away as quick as he had written it.
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He looked at where Raphael's blood was smudged now, another plan forming in his head. Especially as he glanced towards the ceiling. People often underestimated the height advantage.
"Fine. Be quiet." It made him want to sleep, with the vain hope that Raphael might be able to enter his dreams again. "But that means that I'm not gonna tell you what you've missed on Glee."
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He just wanted Sam to stop looking around all shifty and sit down. There was a shitty old mattress on the floor and he pointed at it insistently.
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Sam shook his head, but he did move over to the mattress. Lying down on it, he glanced at Raphael. "What, aren't you gonna tuck me in?"
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Then forced them back open. Sleep wasn't allowed. He grunted and whined as he forced his eyes open wide.
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"There's some tricks to staying awake." Sam tried to think of one that didn't require coffee or anything else they couldn't obtain right now. "Maybe I should tell you what you missed on Glee." Might keep him engaged. "Not really my kinda show though. I'm more of a documentary kind of guy. Matty watches it. Then lies about watching it."
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Sam always had such a nice voice. He wondered if Sam had any sort of idea how bad it was going to be. How awful it would be for him. How much he'd suffer for acting as he was. That was not submission. He would have to learn but for now, he could enjoy it. His eyes remained focused on Sam, clearly engaged despite everything. What was happening on Glee?
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