A/N: This very loosely follows canon in terms of the season arcs. (I just wanted an excuse to write BAMF!Winchesters coming to Cas's rescue.) So some of these snapshots will be things that could have taken place between episodes, and others will be blatant AUs. No logical, cohesive plot here, just shameless whump and h/c. The word counts are also widely varied, so I'll probably update every few days rather than once a week.
Thank you 29-pieces-of-me for beta reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
5
They'd set a trap for him. Castiel shouldn't have been that surprised; he was second on Heaven's Most Wanted list after Lucifer for rebelling. What hurt was they had callously used his faith and hope in finding God against him, setting up signs and wonders to draw his attention. Even the Winchesters had noticed, and Sam had called to see if Cas had heard about the potential God lead, which he already had. Still, it was…nice, that the younger Winchester was being supportive of Castiel's quest.
Unfortunately it was all for naught. The moment Castiel arrived at the old farm, he felt a searing pain score across his back, slicing through tissue to expose his grace underneath—and cutting through his wing. He staggered, twisting around to see one of his brothers holding an angel blade tipped with fresh crimson. There was a soft rustle, and a second angel appeared behind him, grabbing one arm and wrenching it painfully behind his back while the first marched over to seize the other, effectively restraining him.
A third presence joined them, and Castiel stiffened as he recognized it. Zachariah slowly stepped forward, hands tucked casually in his pants' pockets as he regarded Castiel with smug satisfaction.
"Well, look at you," his former superior said, shrewd eyes roving up and down. "What were you hoping to accomplish, Castiel? Run to Daddy and beg forgiveness, beg to return to the fold? You could have come to me, you know. All you'd have to do to earn forgiveness is tell me where Dean Winchester is, and then you can come home."
Castiel gritted his teeth, the throbbing in his back threatening to spill out in an unseemly groan. "God can stop the Apocalypse. None of this has to happen."
Zachariah's brows actually rose to his hairline. "You really believe that, don't you? Raphael wasn't kidding." He shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and confusion. "I don't understand you, Castiel. You were such a good soldier, and now…" Zachariah gestured vaguely. "Now you're clinging to some ridiculous faith and not even realizing you've already turned your back on it!"
"Angels have been manipulating events," Castiel ground out. "Giving their own orders. I'm not the one who lost faith; you have."
A snarl replaced Zachariah's neutral expression, and suddenly he was inches from Castiel's face, one hand fisting in Castiel's hair to wrench his head back so he was forced to look up at the other angel. "You've been spending too much time with those Winchesters, you insolent piece of shit. At least I finally get to check off one item on my to-do list." He reached his other hand into his suit jacket and pulled out an angel blade.
Castiel instinctively struggled, but the two angels holding him were like granite statues. Zachariah's eyes lit up with relish as he lifted the blade…and then widened in shock as a voice echoed from somewhere outside.
"Hey, Zach! You wanted me, you bastard, come and get me!"
Castiel sucked in a sharp breath. Dean. No, that was impossible. How could he be here?
Zachariah spared Castiel one more glance, and then slammed the pommel of the angel blade against his temple. The other angels let him crumple to the floor. "You, watch him," Zachariah ordered, motioning for the other to follow him outside.
Castiel struggled to sit upright, but the remaining angel merely planted a foot against his chest and shoved him back down. He couldn't help the strangled cry that escaped his throat as it put pressure on his injured wing, and he quickly rolled onto his stomach. Dean's voice was still speaking, though it sounded oddly amplified with a faint crackle of static.
"What's the matter, Zach? Still can't find me when I'm right in front of you? Boy, are you lousy at your job."
Castiel had grown somewhat used to Dean's irreverent attitude, but even this was borderline horrifying. Just because the angels needed the Righteous Man to become Michael's vessel didn't mean they wouldn't punish him first.
He heard a faint scuff on the ground and craned his head in time to see Dean slipping in through the back door of the barn. He blinked in confusion; how had he gotten there so fast when Dean's voice was clearly coming from the opposite direction?
The angel on guard finally heard something as well and started to turn. Dean plastered on a bright smile. "Hey there."
Sam emerged from the shadows to the side and jammed an angel blade through the lackey's throat. He let out a garbled gasp as light burst forth from his mouth and eyes. Sam withdrew the blade, and the dead angel dropped to the ground. Then both brothers were kneeling next to Castiel, Sam gripping his shoulders to help him sit upright while Dean took a knife to his own forearm and began painting a blood sigil on the ground.
Castiel's eyes widened when he recognized the whorls and shape of an angel banishing sigil. He wanted to open his mouth and say that was a very bad idea…but he also didn't want the Winchesters to be caught by Zachariah. Even if that meant Castiel would be banished in a blinding white flare of pure agony with the rest of the angels.
Castiel sensed Zachariah and the other angel returning, and he braced himself for the expected ripping vortex. Zachariah's expression of disbelief was priceless, though, when he stormed through the barn doors and spotted the Winchesters.
"Hey guys," Dean grinned.
This was it… But then Dean yanked Castiel's arm out and slammed the angel's hand onto the sigil. Castiel was too stunned to register that the flash of light and angry cries were coming from the other angels and not himself. White spots flitted across his vision, and as it gradually cleared, he found the barn empty except for him and the Winchesters, the blood sigil now a smoldering charred line.
Dean let go of Castiel's wrist. "I never get tired of doing that."
Sam snorted, while Castiel blinked in bewilderment. What had just happened? Had Dean actually had the foresight to remember any angel in the vicinity would be banished unless they activated the sigil themselves?
The older Winchester's face suddenly loomed in his immediate field of vision. "Cas, hey buddy, you okay?" A hand gripped his chin lightly and turned his head to the side. "Can angels get concussions?"
"I'm fine," he managed to get out, albeit not in a very strong voice. "How…what are you doing here?"
"We got to thinking how these God signs seemed a little too convenient," Sam explained. "And since we weren't far away, we figured we'd check it out, see if you needed backup." He tilted Castiel forward and started picking at the back of his coat. His voice lowered an octave. "Shit, it's glowing."
"What?" Dean leaned over to get a look, then added his own muttered curse.
"Angel blade," Castiel supplied.
"I take it those injuries don't heal so fast."
"They will," he assured them.
"We'll still give you a patch job in the meantime," Sam spoke up. "But not here." He slipped an arm around Castiel's lower back and hauled him up. Castiel bit his lip to keep from groaning.
As they shuffled outside, he managed to catch his breath enough to speak again. "I don't understand; I heard you out front. How did you get to the rear of the barn so quickly?"
Dean grinned and held up his cell phone. "I know how to be in two places at once." He punched one of the buttons with his thumb, and an oddly echoed mimicry of his own voice filled the air.
"You going for most incompetent angel of the year award, Zach?"
Castiel just stared at him, and finally Dean shook his head as he jogged toward the tree line and picked up a digital voice recorder.
"Distraction, Cas."
"Oh. That's…very clever."
Dean looked mildly pleased, and they continued making their way down the drive to where the boys had left the Impala. Sam eased Castiel into the backseat and stuffed a wadded up towel behind his back. To stop the bleeding, he'd explained. Dean retrieved their first aid kit, and then the elder Winchester got behind the wheel while Sam sat in the back and started cleaning the cut above Castiel's brow.
After several minutes of driving in silence, Dean cleared his throat. "So, guess Heaven's pretty serious about hunting you down, huh?"
Castiel looked out the window at the passing trees, a deep ache settling in his chest. "I am the new Lucifer," he said quietly, echoing the Devil's own venomous words from Carthage.
"No you're not," Sam said emphatically, the force of which drew Castiel's gaze back. "You're nothing like Lucifer, never will be."
Castiel felt his own expression soften. "Thank you, Sam. But in the eyes of Heaven…"
"Heaven's wrong about a lot of stuff," Dean interrupted. "Hell, the dicks upstairs are more like Nazis than servants of Heaven. You, Cas," he met Castiel's gaze in the rearview mirror. "You're what the angels are supposed to be."
Castiel didn't know why such a declaration meant so much to him, but some of that ache in his spirit seemed to ease.
"I'm sorry helping us made you a target," Dean spoke up a few moments later.
Castiel remained silent for a few beats while Sam taped a bandage over his eye. His back still stung, and his wing was pulsing with pain, but he did not resent his circumstances, nor regret his decision. "I'm not."