Lucifer runs his fingers soothingly through Castiel's hair, cooing into his ear. He keeps his other hand over his baby brother's jerking ribs, pained breaths shaking his whole frame, small and fragile between his legs and against his chest. Cas whimpers and Dean tightens his hand around his.
Sam scoots closer, shoulder pressing up against Lucifer's. He rocks slightly against him, moving back and forth until the three of them find a slow rhythm and then he hums softly, pressing his hand to Cas' leg so he feels them all.
Castiel doesn't stop crying, but his sobs aren't as violent and his breathing is calming. His shoulders are still shaking, not just because of his cries, and the pain is getting steadily worse. He twists and arches, muscles of his back racked with painful spasms. He feels flesh, muscle, vein and nerve ripping and splitting, blood streaking down his back in rivulets.
Lucifer curses Raguel in his head, knowing they'd all hear it, his anger lashing out in his thoughts as his eyes flash from black to red to blue -the color of his vessel's eyes- and back to the beat of his heart. His eyes sting with angry tears, because he's not hypocritical like the rest of the angels.
Dean and Sam try to keep their eyes closed, but it's an impossible feat. Their eyes are having the same problem as Lucifer's, flashing yellow and black and back to green. They can't look away, not really. Castiel's once big, long, feathery white wings are, well, no longer feathery or white.
Bloodied feathers that no human could see litter the ground beneath them, strips of skin from the root of each one still attached. Skin tears itself apart and chunks of flesh fall onto piles of feathers, nerves and spurting veins hanging and turning into ashes. It's the most horrendous thing that any creature could see.
It's the cruelty with which the Archangels treat their own, for no reason other than one Angel's urge to love and feel and be free with his cherished ones. It's the hypocritical evil that weaves into their "spells" that are worse than curses, like the one they cast upon Castiel.
Instead of simply taking his Grace, they cursed him so that his wings would tear themselves apart, and then his Grace would leak out through the wounds along with his blood.
Castiel is still shaking and whimpering when Lucifer comes back to himself, just in time to see the last piece of his right wing fall to the bloody grass and rot. While the shimmering silver of his Grace mixes with his blood, Lucifer scoops up a handful of feathers and makes a fist. When he opens it, they had hardened into one feather made of smooth sapphire, the ridges lined in jagged emerald.
As the wounds start healing, Lucifer presses the gem to Castiel's chest and it melts in, glowing softly. Cas gasps, the blue of his eyes fading to a glassy white.
Dean, Sam and Lucifer each bit into their wrists in turn, dripping blood over Cas' lips. His tongue slowly slips out and licks it up. His eyes seep into a deep smoky grey and he latches onto Dean's wrist, sucking and biting. When Cas lets go, his eyes still have white around the edges, so he laps at Lucifer and Sam's wrists gently until it's all gone.
Castiel finally calms, Dean's hand on his lower back, Lucifer's on his belly and Sam's on his leg. He leans against his older brother's chest, eyes shiny black.
His family curls around him and Cas slips into sleep, because yeah, demons can do that.