Title: The Exorcism of Heaven's Child

Author: Halfblood Alchemist

Rating: R

Genre: Horror, religious themed exorcism, light Destiel

Spoilers: Mild for 6.01

Warnings: Blood, violent possession, swearing, disturbing scenes, a boy kiss, violence, Torture

Summary: After a failed attempt to protect Lisa and Ben from rogue demons, Castiel finds himself at the mercy of those he lost his battle to. Dean, still not forgiving of what happened to the people he swore to protect, finds Castiel near catatonic and wounded. But upon returning him to Bobby's home, they find that not all is as it seems, and the forces of hell can overthrow an archangel.

A/N: The story only covers the basic idea of what happens in next week's episode, since it hasn't aired yet. Only going off what the summary tells me! It's amazing how ten minutes of film footage can influence a story. Watched a scene from "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" and decided to take a stab at an exorcism story. The possession in this story is not canon to the Supernatural verse for the reason alone that will be explained in the story.

Chapter 1

Castiel leaned against the dank alley wall, his shaking hand clutched around the neck of a whiskey bottle. His eyes bore heavily into the opposing wall, and if he had had the will to try, the very gaze would have crumbled the aging bricks to dust. He swallowed another draught the heated tang of the whiskey doing nothing to numb the insatiable guilt that ravaged his conscious.

He'd failed. He'd failed Lisa and Benjamin Braeden to their deaths. He'd failed Dean Winchester, the one he valued over life itself, and would do anything in his power to please him. He'd failed him; one simple task, and even he, a Goddamn Archangel couldn't complete it. In his despair, he crushed the bottle in his hand, wishing he were just fallen enough to allow the liquor to taint his sobriety, even just a bit. It would be better than this gnawing, never ending shame he riddled himself with.

Throwing the shattered glass to the ground, he stared at the dark stain the spilled liquid caused on the front of his ever present trench coat. He could will it away with nothing more than a thought… but why bother? Instead, his mind wandered; wandered back to the memories that dared not leave him, haunting him every moment it could...

One week prior

"Cas, I need you to do me a favor…" Dean's voice sounded hurried over the tinny echoes of his cell phone. Castiel nodded, needing not ask where Dean was at. He'd known for this whole year where Dean had been residing. He knew that house well for nights found the two near the back of the expansive yard, hidden from sight as they made communion to the young hours of every new day.

Those nights were quiet, the only sounds being their hurried breaths, lips caressing and hands touching in desperate attempts to map out the other. Deep down, Dean feared that he would lose this too; this thing he had with Castiel, the last visages of a life he'd left behind on a promise to his deceased brother.

In the beginning, it had been necessary to keep Dean going through every following day; a nudge in the right direction to keep up his charade for as long as possible. Despite these attempts, they couldn't hide their secret from Lisa for long. She knew. And yet she did not despise this. In their hearts, they all knew any normal life with a wife and a child would be nothing more than a pipe dream, a goal never really reached. So they did the best they could, Dean taking on his role as protector and leaving his love affairs to a midnight angel.

Castiel had known Sam lived from the moment he crawled from the pit. He didn't even know how it was possible, but he knew. After Sam made him promise not to reveal his secret, Castiel's visits grew longer, stretching into daylight hours. To Ben, he became Dean's "friend", a visitor that brought him tiny trinkets and gifts to protect their reality from the young boy. He wasn't to know just yet. So Castiel stayed, and Sam's secret remained. He wished to protect Dean from this realization, until the time it was necessary to bring the two brothers together.

It wasn't until after their first hunt in over a year, did the brother's realize a plight. A call from Bobby regarding a young monstrosity locked in the form of a babe brought this realization to the surface. The hunt was back on, and there was no one to protect the Braeden's from harm. Once Dean went off, they would be alone, prime targets from rogue demons that wished to exact their revenge on the Winchesters whom locked their master back in his cage.

It gnawed at every fiber of Dean's being that he wouldn't be there to watch over them; it was all he knew after a year's hiatus from the hunt. However, he was needed this time, and although Samuel Campbell had returned, it wasn't enough to send Sam on his own to investigate the mysterious infant.

With no further options, Dean called the only other person he could trust, pleading with him to help. "Please Cas. Sam and I need to take care of this, but Lisa and Ben can't be alone. Will you watch them? Make sure nothing happens to them?"

Castiel had nodded, placing a hand on Dean's cheek. "Of course, Dean. I'll will guard them until your safe return." He leaned up, pressing a kiss to Dean's lips before turning him away. "Be off. We will be here when you return."

Dean nodded, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the trio before climbing into the Impala with his brother. He smiled at Castiel, shooting Lisa a wink before the car roared from the driveway, engine rumbling in the Cicero air.

Castiel turned, feeling a tug on his trench coat. By his side stood Ben, a curious but fully stern look on his young features. "You be good to Dean, or I'll kick your butt."

He didn't know how it happened. He couldn't fathom it. It had all happened so suddenly, but with such a brute strength it challenged his abilities. How? How could he have let this happen?

Castiel blinked the memories fuzzy in his mind. It had all started so simply. A few days after Dean's departure, Lisa had offered to prepare the angel lunch, ignoring his insistence that he required no sustenance. "Bull. Dean told me you like to eat. Now come on, I've already got the skillet out." Her words were gruff, but the smile on her fair features rivaled the implications. Castiel couldn't help but smile. Now he could see why Dean had liked her so much.

Finally agreeing, he sat down at the backyard table with the two, enjoying the lunch she'd created on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. In retrospect, it should have seemed too good to be true.

He'd gotten too comfortable. He missed the warnings signs. It was his fault. All his fault. Castiel winced, remembering the sudden brush of too-cold air whipping through the yard. Eyes wide, he rose to his feet, shoulders rigid in preparation for a fight. The smell of sulfur hit the air like a slap in the face, and he cursed himself. He'd let his guard down.

Turning to Lisa and Ben, he ordered the frightened pair into the house, eyes flashing brightly. "Get inside!" he yelled, turning to face whatever demons would show themselves.

It was unlike anything he'd ever seen- or not seen. The force of an invisible hand struck him across the jaw, throwing him. He gasped, stunned. How could this happen? Jumping to his feet, he whipped about, catching the shimmering glimpses of demon spirits in the yard, far too many to count. Amassing before him the air felt silent and heavy, the calm before the storm. Then they attacked.

It was an all out war. He fought and slashed his way through the crowd of demons, hearing frightened screams from behind him. He turned in time to see Lisa and Ben trapped, too far from the door to escape the grasp of the demons. "LISA!" he shouted, fighting his way through the horde. What the hell was happening? HUNDREDS of demons flooded the property, blocking and scraping their way at the lone archangel who tried desperately to save those Dean loved.

Something was horribly wrong. Something… something was blocking his power, binding it from his full potential. There were too many. Too many! Castiel screamed in rage, blade flying before him as he tried so desperately to reach Lisa and Ben. He couldn't fail. He just couldn't.

Suddenly, unseen hands grasped him, the touch burning horribly. It was almost as if the contact of holy fire burned into his flesh, causing him to writhe and scream in their grasp. He couldn't move! He couldn't… his vision was obstructed. WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON! A scream from before him caused the angel to look up. To his horror, Lisa hung suspended in the air, invisible claws and teeth ripping her torso to shreds. Below her, Ben suffered a similar fate. The young boy was thrown about like a ragdoll, blood flying as the invisible beasts tore them apart. Hellhounds.

"NO!" he cried, fighting with all his might. "LISA! BEN!" In his last ditch struggle, he shoved the invisible hands off of him, making a break for the two. If he could just reach them…

A sudden shock, ripping through him like lightning stopped him in his tracks. He screamed, feeling as if the very power were ripping him up from the inside. Moments turned to hours, turned to years; the agony blinding him.

And just as suddenly, everything went black…

Castiel startled back to his senses, eyes wide and fearful as he struggled to catch his breath. Ever since his failed mission, the angel had felt a weakened state of being, almost as if he were fallen; a human. But no… his powers were still present. He didn't understand what was becoming of him. Had he received punishment for breaking the Righteous Man's promise? Had he received it for allowing two of his charges to have ill fall upon them?

Castiel felt his vessel's legs give out, yet he struggled to remain standing. Deep down, he did not understand why he continued to fight for his dignity? He deserved none. With a sigh, Castiel pushed himself from the wall, wandering down the dark stretches of the desolate alleyway, eyes downcast.

How he wished to return to Dean's side, but the screams of remorse, the fury at his failure echoed in his mind, far out crying the screams of the dying. Dean had cast him out. In a fit of rage, he's thrown the angel from his sight, screaming, "I TRUSTED YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?"

To the archangel, those words stung worse than the raging pain he'd felt when he had fallen unconscious at the hands of the invisible beasts before him. He would have rather suffered a similar fate a thousand times over than hear those words leave his beloved's mouth again. He would give anything to never have disappointed Dean so terribly.

As he wandered, a chill ran through the air, wind whipping flecks of debris from the littered ground around him. As the wind picked up, a low howl filled the air, crags echoing with the growing breeze. As if on cue, a fluttering of clouds crossed the night sky, obscuring the sickly moonlight .

The angel stopped in his tracks. Something was wrong. In the dark of the pathway, a nagging sensation filled his mind, sharpening his already acute senses. Shadows intensified. Sounds amplified. Every fiber of his being went into overdrive, old instincts kicking in. In the dark passage, riddled with shadows and dank corners, the angel froze, fists curling at his sides in defense.

Castiel wasn't alone.

With small, aborted movements the angel turned to face his adversaries. Sharp blue eyes picked up any details otherwise lost in the muted vision of the night, scanning his surroundings. His vessel's blood pounded in his ears, adrenaline kicking in. In hindsight, this should have been worrisome; he should not be able to sense such small, human responses to the unknown night.

"Show yourself…" he hissed, fists shaking at his sides. He knew. He knew who was following him, and he was more than ready to face them again. After all, they did have an unsettled score.

This time, however, the demons took on shape. The vessel of one demon stepped into his line of sight. The man's shoulders were broad and sharp, chiseled features marred in a terrible parody of a smile. Castiel watched his new adversary with a cautious eye. All too soon, two more demons joined their leader, followed by another two. The five demons bore down on Castiel, eyes flashing black in the night.

"Castiel, such a pleasure to see you again." The lead demon laughed, his deep voice liquid poison in the night. "It was a shame what happened to those two wretches at the Cicero home… Slaughter was not our intention, but you know the nature of hellhounds… insatiable brutes they are." As he spoke, he raised a hand to the thin air, stroking something by his side.

Castiel's eyes widened, realizing what he hadn't picked up. Hellhounds stood by the side of each demon, yet he sensed none of them. It was almost as if his Grace had gone superficial. He reached out with his Grace to sense anything of the beasts, but he felt nothing. It was only the tell-tale growls thrumming through the air that alerted him to their presence.

"What's the matter, Castiel? Feeling a bit under the weather?" A female demon spoke next. As she did, a hand shot out, her own tainted grace throwing the angel across the width of the alley to slam headlong into the opposing wall.

The angel gasped, slumping to the ground in pain. A trickle of warm liquid ran down the side of his face, seeping in between his lips as he struggled to regain his breathing. "What is… happening…" he gasped to himself, struggling to his feet.

"What are you waiting for, Castiel? Fight us!" The demon laughed, gripping the weakened archangel by the throat.

A sensation like fire ripped through Castiel's throat, burning his flesh where the demon's hand touched him. He writhed in his grip, choking past the inflamed grip around his neck. At his feet, the curious snuffling of the hellhounds turned rabid, snarls filling the air. He felt one latch onto his calf, ripping his vessel's flesh away in a fountain of dark crimson, feasting on the tissue.

The angel screamed. He screamed for all he was worth, the sound half choked through the tightening fist around his esophagus. In a last ditch effort, he pressed his palm to the demon's forehead, uttering the exorcism in a vain attempt to disarm the larger man before him.

Nothing happened.

"What's this? The great Archangel Castiel can't exorcize a simple demon?" As he spoke, the beast dragged Castiel towards the back wall, pinning him in place. He motioned to two of his companions, who strode forward eagerly. Each one took a hold on Castiel's wrists, pulling them apart to keep him immobile against the wall. "I do believe there's a few things you haven't been told Castiel…"

The angel looked up at him, a raw handprint burnt into his neck. In defiance, he spat in the demon's face, lip pulled back into a vicious snarl. "I won't listen to you and your poisonous lies!"

"Oh really? Not even for a decent explanation, Castiel?" The demon gripped his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Castiel, have you not noticed your powers diminishing as of late? Yet, you are not fallen? How could this be, I wonder?"

Castiel glared, unwilling to listen. He shook his head, trying desperately to block out the lies he knew were coming.

"Don't you see? This was all a façade! Heaven gave you a false title, to draw you away from the real fight. The war isn't over, Castiel. You are no archangel and there is no divine plan for you."

Castiel looked up at him, wide eyes betraying his fear. "You lie…"

"I would never! Not on such a thing, Castiel. Your powers were nothing but a front to drag you away from the Winchesters. Unfortunately for you, they were due to expire within a few days… nothing like a little negativity to speed up the process, eh?"

Castiel stared at him, shaking his head in disbelief. "No… it can't be…"

"What you think your Daddy's gonna just give your allowance a boost? He doesn't give two shits about the world, but you have the gull to think you're special? You're nothing, Castiel! Nothing but dirt under the big man's foot!" The demon struck the weak angel across the face, claws marring his already bloody temple.

Castiel gasped in pain, willing the agony of the truth to dissipate before he looked up again. He couldn't let them see the pained tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He shivered, the burns from any exposed skin touching his leaving shivers of sensation itching at his flesh. "No…"

"Oh yes. But here's the catch; you're not completely useless after all." At this, the demon smiled, catching the hitch in the angel's shoulders. "You have a special purpose after all. After your little altercation with lover boy, Lucifer decided it would be a good idea to pick up on the opportunity while it presented himself."

Castiel's head snapped up to meet his gaze, burning hate in those blue orbs. "No! Lucifer is back in the pit!"

"Doesn't mean he doesn't have control over us. Remember we've been around for centuries. Lucifer's been in the cage before. He ruled then. But now…" The demon tapered off, chuckling to himself. "Now he's got leverage. There are only two people that can keep him down there in that cage, now that Michael's out of the picture. Two people… and you're on both their shit-lists."

The angel shivered at the implications, eyes boring into the demon's. "What are you saying…"

"I'm saying, you're our prime target, baby! With no assistance from them, Lucifer's got the perfect opportunity to take back what he lost. And you'll help us out." At his next words, the demon leaned forward, eyes flashing coal-black once again. "Like I said… the war's not over. It's personal now."

Castiel barely had time to register the implication of those words, before he was wrenched violently to the side. A pair of too-cold hands gripped his face, wrenching it around with near-breaking strength. He yelped in pain, feeling the muscles in his neck strain and pull with the exertion. "NO! I WON'T HELP YOU!" he raged, eyes flashing wildly in the night.

They didn't respond. Too rough hands forced him down onto his knees, wrenching his head up to face the cloudy sky above him. His wings beat a tempo into the demons surrounding him, the air quivering with the sound of rustling feathers. He struggled in vain in their arms, trying to dislodge them. He didn't believe them. If he could just escape, he'd be able to win the upper hand… if he could just escape…

"Ah, ah." The lead demon snickered, kicking him in the chest. He smiled in triumph, hearing the angel gasp for air. "Don't go running off, we're not done playing here." As he spoke, he pulled an oil jar from his pocket and a book of matches. He smiled, seeing the dawning realization cross the angel's face. "Oh yes… we're going to have loads of fun…"

Castiel's eyes widened at the implication, his struggles increasing tenfold. But no matter how hard he tried, it was no use. He felt rough fingers massage his jaw, forcing it open with brutality. He snapped at their fingers in a last attempt, but this only served to elicit more laughs from the group. Fingertips forced his mouth open, pulling the jaws apart enough to snap the joint.

He whimpered in pain, his will finally disintegrating under their touch as the tendons hyper extended, his mouth forced open obscenely wide. Full terror filled his eyes as he watched the lead demon step forward, uncorking the jar of holy oil.

"Open wide, little angel." He laughed, upending the contents down Castiel's throat.

It was like liquid fire. He choked and screamed, the oil coating his throat and mouth in a burning layer. He struggled hard under their grip, gagging on the slippery substance as it burned his throat raw.

"And the grand finale…" the sound of a match struck the air, burning sulfur mixing with the taint of the demon's essence. The tiny flame, so small and innocent in the demon's hand, hovered over Castiel's open mouth, hanging precariously from loose fingertips. "… let the lightshow begin."

The match dropped from the demon's fingertips, plunging down the angel's gullet. Instantly, the oil lit up, flames engulfing Castiel's throat, flickering from his mouth in a flash of holy flames.

The pain… oh God, the pain it was like nothing he'd ever experienced before in his eternity of existence! The angel flailed in their arms, flames licking up from his open maw his mouth, throat, and lips burning under the onslaught. He shrieked in agony, eyes lighting up as the holy fire worked to burn what little Grace was left in him. Tears streamed down his face as he felt his very flesh within him roast and crack, blacken and char; his vocal chords burnt as the flames grew hotter and hotter within him.

But as he felt the last visages of his spirit begin to dwindled, the demons acted. Within a moment, all five demons vacated their current vessels, bodies landing dead to the ground. The pillar of smoke wafted through the air, plunging down the angel's throat and extinguishing the holy fire within him.

As the last tendrils of the demon essence plagued the dying angel's being, he collapsed to the ground, weakened body ravaged with the intrusion. As his celestial blue eyes flickered shut, a flash of onyx filled his irises before dissipating within him.