There was pain. A lot of pain. Castiel didn't even bother to try to contain the groan that slipped past his lips as he regained awareness. His head was still throbbing, which was not a good sign. Normally, sleep, or blissful unconsciousness, would be enough to heal him and his vessel of any damage he endured, but as the borrowed grace he had consumed slowly began to fizzle and burn out, his wounds fastidiously refused to mend.

That's right...I'm dying...

Castiel had to admit it was a rather pathetic, self-pitying thought. Perhaps he was not as stoically prepared for his imminent demise as he had let the Winchesters believe he was. But these thoughts were unfruitful at the moment. The moments exactly prior to his unconsciousness were a blur and the pounding in his head wasn't making them any clearer. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind and take in his surroundings. He was bound to a chair, a rope around his chest keeping him upright and cold metal cuffs locking his wrists behind him. The corner of his mouth was cracked and he could feel dried blood when he tried to wet his lips. The side of his face was swollen, but he was able to flutter his eyes open.

Something blue and bright swam into his vision, ticking back and forth like a pendulum. There was a familiarity to the light that made him uneasy. It glared in his overly sensitive vision and he blinked hard to force his eyes to focus.

"You're awake," came a familiar drawling voice from behind the cobalt-hued glow.

Dean smiled at him, a slow, serpentine smile, his eyes pitch black. He sat in front of Cas,slouched across a metal chain, with one forearm draped across the back. In his other hand he held the silver chain of a necklace. From the chain hung a small vial filled with the blue, ethereal glow. It was just like the one that Uriel had held Anna's grace in all those years ago. Dean swung it back and forth, his grin broadening as Cas' eyes grew wider in recognition and horror.

"Hannah..." Cas breathed, his voice catching in his throat as he watched the vial swing on its arch.

"You recognize her grace, huh?" said Dean, sounding cruelly gleeful. "Yeah, little Hannah wasn't too happy when I came and tried to take away her Fearless Leader. She put up a brave fight. You ought to be proud..."

Cas lurched forward, forgetting that this person was his best friend, the person he had followed into battle countless times, the one for whom he had turned his back on heaven. For a moment all he wanted to do was wrap his hands around Dean's throat and squeeze until he choked the sneer from his face. But then the metal of the handcuffs cut into his wrists and he let out a yelp of pain as a sheering jolt ran up his arms and wracked his already aching body.

"Pretty neat, aren't they?" quipped Dean, his eyes shifting from pitch black to their human hazel green. He jutted his chin out towards the cuffs binding Castiel. "They're kinda like the ones we used on Crowley. I figured if you could make them to hold a demon, why not an angel? Took me some digging to find the proper runes, but when you have all the resources of hell behind you, well, you can come up with some pretty interesting things."

He stood languidly, stretching out his long limbs, before sauntering over to the bound angel. Dean reached down and lovingly traced the etchings on the handcuffs. Castiel watched him warily, unable to keep the fear from his eyes. The worst part was that he couldn't tell himself that this wasn't Dean. That it was just something awful controlling his friend's body. He could see past the human form, past the hazel eyes, and into the other man's being. He knew that no matter how twisted and warped the remains of the soul were, it was still very much Dean.

"Made them myself," Dean continued. "None of that mess with the holy oil and setting everything on fire. And you're portable this way. And here everyone always thought Sammy was the clever one..." he said with a mirthless chuckle.

Castiel latched onto one word. Portable? So the plan wasn't just to kill him? Then he shuddered, imagining exactly what the demon might have in mind if it didn't mean outright killing him. He remembered what Dean had been like when he first found him in hell: feral, brutal and crazed from the blood-lust of torturing. He had had to wrestle Dean's soul into submission in order to raise him from perdition. Now with no grace, he would have no chance subdue Dean again.

"Just kill me..." Castiel looked at Dean with pleading blue eyes, trying to keep desperation out of his voice. "Please, if I ever meant anything to you, just get it over with..."

Dean stared at Castiel for a moment and then threw back his head and laughed. It was a malicious sound that sent a chill through the angel's veins. Castiel flinched at the noise and bowed his head in defeat.

"Did ya hear that?" the demon crowed, looking to someone who stood behind Cas, out of his field of vision. "He wants me to have mercy and kill him!" He turned his attention back to Castiel and leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Sorry, buddy, but I have other plans for you."

"Really, are you done flirting so we can get on with this?" came a crisp voice from behind them, sounding very British and very exasperated. Crowley stepped into Cas's peripheral vision and smiled mockingly. "Good morning, angel." He greeted in a lilting, sing song voice.

Castiel slumped against his restraints. Of course the King of Hell was here. Not that he had had much hope of being able to reason with Dean, but there would be no chance with Crowley playing devil's advocate so to speak. The angel closed his eyes, trying to banish all the thoughts of what two demons could, and probably would, do to him.

"Ah, come on, don't be like that, Cas," Dean said, his voice taking on the joking tone he had often used when the two of them would banter back and forth. He moved to stand in front of him.

"Don't call me that," spat Castiel, his eyes narrowing. Anger bubbled up in his chest and he was suddenly uncontrollably furious. He had worked so hard, had done everything he could do to protect Dean. And despite all his efforts, all his sacrifices, they had ended up here. Castiel fought against the restraints, against the futility of it all. Everything within him rebelled at hearing that thing call him.

No, it was still Dean...

"Don't you dare call me that..." Castiel trailed off, his jaw clench in frustration at his own impotence.

Dean grabbed his chin roughly and the necklace chain holding Hannah's grace dug into Castiel's cheek.

"Don't be like that, Cas," the demon hissed. "After all I've done for you..."

Dean let go of his face and stood back, nodding to Crowley. He removed the stopper to the vial, placing his thumb over the opening to keep the stolen grace from spilling out. His features seemed to darken and the angel could see his demonic nature swirling just below the surface.

"What are you doing?" asked Castiel, but he was cut off when he felt Crowley's fingers wind through his hair. The demon wrenched his head backward. Cas bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain, and Crowley used his free hand to force his mouth open.

"What..." he stammered again, but choked as Dean tipped the vial's contents into his mouth. Cas spluttered and writhed, but Dean covered his mouth and nose with his large hand. His vessel instinctively swallowed against his will. Castiel thrashed against the bindings, trying to twist his head away from both of the demons' grasps.

"Come on, Cas, don't fight," Dean crooned softly, his voice taking on a more human quality. Castiel's wide eyes met Dean's and for a moment the former hunter looked at him almost pleadingly.

Tears leaked down down the angel's face as his body greedily absorbed Hannah's grace. Already he could feel his vessel's wounds start to heal as the energy rushed through him. He could feel his essence consuming her grace like it had that other angel's, morphing it and making it his own. But this was so much worse. Before it had been an act of desperation. It had made it no less vile, no less monstrous, but at least it had been his own decision.

Crowley's fingers loosened from their death grip and the King of Hell stepped back. "Is it working, Squirrel?" he asked, bending down and peering curiously at Cas.

Dean removed his hand from over Castiel's mouth and the angel immediately gagged, trying to vomit up the stolen grace. But it was too late. His body devoured Hannah's grace. There was nothing left of her.

Castiel recoiled, twisting within the bindings. He focused all of the new energy that he had unwillingly consumed, trying to force it out, to break free. The handcuffs seemed to tighten in response, sending agonizing pain racing up his arms and draining away the flaring power.

"Why?" Castiel croaked, as he crumpled against the ropes that bound him upright.

"Because, Cas...," replied Dean, smoothing back sweat-damp hair from his friend's forehead. "I don't care if I have to gut every angel in heaven and on earth..." Dean's eyes shifted back to void-black. His voice had become dark and predatory. And determined.

"I'm not going to let you die."