Pairings: Dean/Castiel

Warnings: demon!dean, angel!cas, hurt!cas, mild torture, emotional manipulation

Cas really should learn to speak up

His head hurt the most.

Not that the wounds in the rest of his body had been dulled in the slightest. He could feel the cuts all over, some shallow and sharp, others deep, gnawing aches he was certain would never stop hurting. The burns up and down his arms made him feel as if he were constantly on fire and he could only imagine that the whelps along his back looked worse than they felt. His leg, blackened and leaking blood, was at best sprained, at worst fractured. The blue, too bright sigil was the only thing keeping him upright.

The mark held him in place, simultaneously tearing into his flesh and through his grace, locking him into position while spinning seemingly out of control though it. It was worse in his wings, the magic curving and corkscrewing though nearly every plain of existence. If silence weren't so precious he'd have screamed a hole in his vessel's vocal cords.

Still though, reduced to a near human state as he was, his head seemed to hurt the worst. It pounded from the stress his body had been put though, sending painful pulses though his rapidly swelling eye and cut lip. He marveled only momentarily at how such lesser wounds seemed to hurt the most.

Dean's fist was, after all, as precise an instrument as his blades.

He hissed sharply as a hand grabbed his chin and tilted his head up. He blinked past swimming vision to see cold green eyes flickering over his face before settling directly on him.

"Still with me, Cas?"

Part of him, the animalistic creature he'd been near reduced to, wanted to snarl and spit in Dean's face. Another part of him wanted to beg him to stop, to listen. Instead, he pushed past that and focused all his energy on a single, quiet nod. Dean hummed and dropped his chin, making Castiel's vision spin again before he was able to support his own head and refocus. Dean was looking down at a metal table, inspecting things he could only barely see but could guess as to their nature.

"You remember why I'm doing this, right?" Dean asked with a glance in his direction. It took several moments but he managed another solitary nod.

"Good. You've lost a lot of blood, even for you. I wanted to make sure you hadn't forgot." He shot a wry smile Castiel's way and his heart swelled in foolish affection before plummeting when Dean turned around to reveal a curved blade with a white handle. He eyed the weapon warily as Dean secured it in his belt as striding back over to him.

Dean's body seemed to relax, features softening until he looked alarmingly like his real self. Castiel squinted but the sigil had drained him to the point where he couldn't see Dean's true face, only a fuzziness around his edges like a persistent shadow.

"Cas." Dean coaxed, so much his old self that Castiel's heart beat painfully. "You need to tell me where Sam is." He brought his hand up and carded his fingers slowly though Castiel's hair, scratching gently at the caked blood.

He nearly sobbed at Dean's touch but focused on making no sound. He knew the moment he did would be the moment he failed. Dean, even like this, was clever enough to either figure out Sam's location from his speech or break him until he told. As long as he was quiet, achingly, maddeningly quiet, he could buy Sam some time to figure out how to fix him.

He prayed Sam would hurry.

Dean's hand traveled down the back of his head to the nape of his neck, squeezing firmly. Castiel grit his teeth, sparks of pleasure confusing themselves with pain.

"Who are you trying to protect this time, hmm? Me? Sammy? You need to tell me, Cas. We both know this never works out." His other hand cupped Castiel's jaw, thumb brushing over his lower lip until they parted. He desperately tried to keep quiet. "We don't work good apart, Cas, none of us. It always goes wrong. Case in point." Dean grinned and Castiel lowered his eyes to the floor, shame as bitter as the blood leaking from his split lip.

"Don't feel bad, baby. I feel better than ever. Got you here, don't I?" Dean's hand dropped from his jaw to his shoulder, fingers dancing along his skin, brushing neatly over his wounds.

"Going to be even better when Sammy's here. One big happy family, right? But you gotta tell me where he is Cas." Dean tilted his head up until Cas was looking into his familiar green eyes again. "You know the rule. I'm only going to ask one more time." The hand on his neck squeezed again and Castiel's vision swam, having nothing to do with the pain.

"Where's Sam?"

Castiel took a steadying breath and looked directly at Dean, jaw clamped tight. Dean's eyes flickered over his before narrowing. The green orbs lost their gentleness, turning cold, dark, and black once more.

"Okay." Dean's hand dropped from the back of his neck to the knife at his side, pulling it out in a smooth, swift motion. Castiel's eyes tracked the motion, heart beating fast as he noticed the sigils carved into the handle for the first time. Panicked breaths rushed in and out of his nose as his brain pieced together what the different markings meant.

"Deep breaths, Cas." Dean instructed, black eyes marring the smile on his face. "Don't want you to pass out."

A moment later the blade carved into his chest wall and Cas screamed.

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