A/N: Fair warning, this story is a Work In Progress. Please let me know if you want to read more and I'll see what I can do ;)

Hostage

CHAPTER ONE

"I don't like this," Dean grumbled.

Sam sighed, shoving yet another useless book aside and reaching for the next. "I know you don't." He also knew that there was no point in asking his brother to help with the research; Dean wanted nothing to do with this hunt.

"We shouldn't be going behind his back."

They'd had this argument a few times now. "We don't have a choice," Sam replied wearily. He gave up on the books, knowing there was nothing more to be learned about their foe in the yellowed pages, and dragged his laptop closer to pull up the latest newsfeeds from around the country. They needed to find a pattern, somewhere, that indicated demon activity.

"Yes, we do!" Dean insisted. "We could choose to trust him. After all this time, after everything he has done for us, he deserves that much."

Sam didn't want to point out that betrayal only ever came from people who were trusted. He couldn't fault Dean for his faith in the angel who had rescued him from Hell. It was true; Cas had saved them time and again, going so far as to turn against Heaven and even die for them once or twice. But the fact was, a demon Castiel had supposedly killed before their very eyes was still alive. Crowley was a sneaky, conniving son of a bitch, but he shouldn't have been able to pull a fast one on an angel. His death had been expertly staged, and the only explanation Sam could think of was that Castiel had been in on it.

"Look, Dean, I understand where you're coming from, and I don't want to believe that Cas could be working with Crowley any more than you do, but we can't turn a blind eye to this. There is too much at stake."

"If we just talk to Cas, ask him what the hell happened, I'm sure he could give us a logical explanation."

"Maybe." Although Castiel had played the confusion card before, pleading ignorance of Crowley's survival, enough time had probably passed now for him to come up with a convincing lie. "But you would believe whatever he told you, truth or not."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Face it, Dean, you have a blind spot where family is concerned." Sam wasn't proud of it, but he himself had exploited this weakness of Dean's in the past. His brother had absolute faith in the people he cared about – the thought that they could lie to or turn against him never crossing his mind – right up until the point when they let him down. And then, even after being hurt and broken, he was always ready to forgive and offer a second, or third, or twentieth chance. "You consider Cas family, don't you?"

"Yeah, because he's earned it. He wouldn't lie to me."

"You said it yourself, Cas has been different lately. The civil war is changing him. We don't know what he is capable of anymore."

"Not this. It's Cas."

Sam had no desire to prove that Castiel had betrayed them. He hoped he was wrong. He didn't want to see what such a horrible breach in trust, from the one person Dean thought he could always count on, would do to his brother. But worse, he feared what the consequences would be if they let this issue slide and found out later, too late, that the angel had gone dark and they had done nothing to stop him.

"I hope you're right. I really do. But we have to make sure, and this is the best way to do it. We find a demon, we get them to lead us to Crowley, and when we find him we will be able to learn the truth for ourselves. Either way, Crowley is eliminated, and that can only be a good thing, right?"

Dean did not appear cheered by the thought. "I still don't like it."

"Dean-"

A burst of static erupted from Bobby's radio.

Sam stared at it in surprise but Dean tensed, his hand darting into his jacket to close around a weapon.

Sam reached out slowly and turned off the transmitter. "What-?"

Another mess of white noise sounded from the television set in the next room and a moment later the radio switched itself back on again. The laptop's screen went blank. Overhead, the lights flickered.

A low whine filled the house, gradually building in pitch and intensity until Sam had to clap his hands over his ears. Dean was wincing, but he would not surrender his grip on the angel sword, dropping into a battle stance.

"What's going on?" Sam yelled.

A single point of bright, white light appeared in the centre of the study. And then another in the corner, and yet another in the doorway. They rapidly expanded, forcing Sam to slam his eyes shut and still the light threatened to sear through his eyelids.

The ground beneath his feet started to shake. Window panes rattled.

Belatedly, Sam realised what they were dealing with and had a split second to wonder if Castiel had overheard them and taken offence before every glass object in the near vicinity shattered.

Sam flung himself to the ground for cover, rolled, and came up wielding a sword of his own. When he opened his eyes, he registered that Castiel was not one of the attackers, although he could have sent them; they were three angels he didn't recognise. Dean was already slashing at the one possessing a businessman, ducking away from his outstretched hand and stabbing at his gut only to have him vanish and reappear behind him.

Sam launched into the fray, taking a slice out of the businessman's arm before whirling to clash blades with a harmless-looking teacher. They exchanged a furious flurry of blows. Sam managed to avoid the angel's touch but was rapidly losing ground, disadvantaged by the teacher's supernaturally-enhanced strength. Each clash of metal sent a shockwave down his arm and slid him backwards a step. The wall suddenly pressed against his back, denying further retreat; his eyes widened as a fist rocketed towards his face-

Then Dean was there, ploughing into the teacher from the side, tackling him to the ground. Sam darted out from the vulnerable position, noting the downed businessman before he found himself under attack from a janitor. He swept the leg, knocking him off balance, ducked around him as he fell and made a stab for his chest. The janitor twisted in mid-air so the sword glanced off the bone of his shoulder. He hit the floor and vanished.

As Sam spun to meet the attack he knew would come from behind, a hand gripped his arm tight and twisted in the opposite direction. He couldn't stop the momentum of his movement – he heard a sickening crack right before the pain struck.

Sam cried out, crumpling to his knees. Dean's gaze shot towards him.

It was a fatal moment of distraction. Sam tried to call out a warning but it was too late.

The teacher's palm slapped against Dean's forehead. In an instant, bright light flared. By the time Sam could see again, the angels were gone. And they had taken Dean with them.

ooOOoo

Bobby had only been gone for half an hour. They had run out of beer and pie and Dean was already in a mood so Bobby had high-tailed it to the closest store, hoping that John's eldest would be able to think more clearly with a full stomach and an alcohol-soothed mind.

As soon as he pulled up to his home, though, the groceries were forgotten.

It looked as though a bomb had gone off. Every single one of his windows had been reduced to a wreckage of shattered glass sprayed out in all directions. His front door was hanging on broken hinges.

He didn't hesitate. Shotgun in one hand and angel sword in the other, Bobby burst into the house.

"Sam! Dean!"

He was ready to face any threat, from demons to angels and everything in between, but the house was still and eerily silent. The thought occurred to him that he had arrived too late to help and he nearly choked on his fear that he was about to stumble across the dead bodies of his boys.

"Dean! Sam!" His tone was more frantic this time. "Answer me, dammit!"

"In here, Bobby."

The sound of Sam's voice punched the breath from his lungs. Nearly woozy with relief, Bobby staggered into the study. "Don't scare me like that, you idjits, I'm an old man-" He froze, taking in the scene of carnage that his study had become.

Shelves were overturned, books were strewn everywhere, the splintered remains of his favourite chair lay beneath his now-three-legged desk and blood was splattered over his carpet. Kneeling in the midst of it all was Sam, shoulders sagging, one arm cradled to his chest, eyes staring fixedly at an empty point in space. Dean was nowhere to be seen.

"Sam?" The boy was unresponsive and Bobby began to panic again, the sharp spike of emotion making his words come out more gruffly than he intended. "What the hell happened? Where's your brother? Was it demons?"

Slowly, Sam shook his head. "Angels."

Bobby's eyes widened. "As in-"

"I don't know," he said dully. "But they took Dean."

Bobby's mind whirled. On one hand, if Castiel had taken Dean it was a fairly safe bet that he was okay. Recent suspicious behaviour aside, Bobby did not believe that Cas would ever hurt Dean. But in the same vein, Cas wouldn't send heavies to abduct him from Bobby's house and leave a wounded Sam by the wayside. Even so, Bobby irrationally hoped that the nerd angel was responsible for this, because the other option left Dean in a very dangerous position: at the mercy of a merciless archangel. Raphael.

"We'll find him," Bobby found himself saying. "We'll get him back. But in the meantime, let me get a look at your arm."

Sam didn't protest, so Bobby knelt beside him and gingerly drew the limb away from Sam's chest to get a better look at it. Once he cut away the fabric, revealing a swollen mass of bruised flesh, he let out a low whistle. "That's a nasty break, son." He retrieved his First Aid kit and set about setting and bandaging the injury, slightly unnerved by Sam's lack of reaction. The Winchesters had experienced more than their fair share of pain over the years, but even with Bobby working as gently as he could, this had to hurt. The kid was in shock.

"It's okay, Sam," Bobby murmured. "Everything is going to be alright. Stay with me boy, Dean's going to be fine…"

Gradually, the haze cleared from Sam's eyes. He glanced down at his arm as Bobby tied off the last bandage strip, as though noticing the wound for the first time. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"No trouble." Bobby packed up the med kit and stood, grasping Sam's good arm to pull him to his feet. "You okay, son?"

Sam swayed for a moment but steadied himself. "Yes. We need to find Dean."

"No arguments from me. Where do we start?"

A steely look entered Sam's gaze. "Castiel."

It made sense. An hour ago they had been all set for avoiding the angel as much as possible while they tried to find out how he was involved with Crowley, but now circumstances had forced their hand. "Alright. Do you want to make the call, or…?"

"No. I'm not going to give him the option of ignoring us."

It felt wrong and distinctly uncomfortable to be so distrustful of the angel who had fought alongside them more times than Bobby could count. Unfortunately, they had good reason to be suspicious; even more so now.

"A summoning spell it is, then," Bobby said. He retrieved the ingredients from various cupboards and drawers, then grabbed a jug of holy oil for good measure. They took the operation outside to spare the carpet – not that it wasn't a write-off already, but Bobby would rather not see his house go up in flames – and lay down a precautionary circle of oil before lighting the spell.

Within a minute, the trademark rustle of wings announced the angel's arrival.

"Why have you summoned me?" Castiel asked, frowning at the remnants of their spell work. "A simple prayer would have sufficed."

"I wasn't taking any chances."

Castiel tilted his head, regarding Sam with a thoughtful gaze. "You are angry," he observed.

"Yeah, damn right I'm angry," Sam snapped. "What the hell are you and your angel buddies playing at?"

Castiel donned his ever-familiar expression of bemusement. "I do not understand."

"Three angels just turned up out of nowhere and attacked us! They busted up Bobby's house and my arm, and they took Dean."

Castiel stiffened. "What?"

"Dean is gone."

Blue eyes darted around, as though searching the scrap yard for the man in question, and when they returned to Sam's face they looked to be edged with worry. "When? How?"

"You tell me," Sam snarled. "Are you behind this? Did you send those bastards to take my brother?"

Castiel was stunned. "Wh- How could you think that?"

"The game is up, Castiel. We know you burned the wrong bones. We know you're working with Crowley."

For a moment his lips parted in an 'O' of surprise, but he quickly covered with an air of amused disbelief. "That is absurd, Sam. I was just as shocked as you to find out that Crowley is alive-"

"Don't bother." Disdain dripped from his words. "Right now I could care less that you climbed into bed with the Devil. I just want my brother back."

"I did not take Dean!" Castiel insisted. "Why would I?"

"To stop us looking into you. To keep us distracted while you do whatever it is you're planning so that we don't stop you."

"I am not planning anything-"

"Don't lie to me!" Sam yelled. "Give me back my brother!"

"I do not have him!"

"I don't believe you!"

Bobby saw it then; the crazed look in Sam's eyes that was a volatile combination of fury, desperation and terror. It was the Winchester equivalent of extreme separation anxiety and it always came out when one of the brothers was hurt, missing or dead. It was a sign that Sam was willing to do or kill anything to get Dean back, and it was scary as hell.

"If you didn't take him, Castiel, then who did?" Bobby asked quickly.

"I don't know."

Sam's face turned red and his fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened. "Not good enough."

Castiel made a frustrated sound. "Then give me something to go on! Can you describe the attackers?"

"The vessels were a businessman, a teacher and a janitor," Sam revealed grudgingly.

"None of my soldiers have taken those forms," Cas said. "They must be followers of Raphael."

Bobby's heart sunk into his shoes as his worst fears were realised. "Raphael," he echoed.

"What would Raphael want with my brother?"

"I do not…" Castiel trailed off, horror and dread dawning on his features. His next word was barely a whisper. "No."

"What?"

"It can't be. Raphael has no comprehension of human emotion, he could not… he would not think to…"

Seeing the angel's abject distress made the pieces of the puzzle slot into place. "He's using Dean against you," Bobby breathed.

It made horrible, awful sense. For the civil war to have raged for so long, Castiel must have somehow become equal in power to an archangel. Neither side seemed able to defeat the other; they were evenly matched and trapped in a stalemate even as angels continued to die in the battle. But, strong as he was, Castiel did have a weakness. Dean.

Once, Dean had just been an assignment, a soul to be rescued from Hell on Heaven's orders. Castiel had become his guardian and, somewhere along the line, he had become his friend. That the angel cared deeply about Dean was as clear as day – almost everything Cas did seemed founded upon the desire to please or protect Dean, and events had shown just how far he was willing to go on his behalf. He had died for Dean twice. He had Fallen for him.

Castiel might be an angel, stubbornly immortal in that he refused to stay dead, the leader of a fierce army and a formidable warrior himself, but Dean was mortal. Dean could die. Dean was vulnerable… and now the enemy had him.

"They are holding him hostage to – to stop me," Cas stammered.

"So this is your fault," Sam said.

"Sam…"

"No, Bobby, don't defend him! He put my brother in danger!"

"That was not my intention. I did not realise-"

"I don't care! This is the apocalypse all over again – you dicks can't settle a family squabble and instead of fighting it out between yourselves you drag Dean right back into your mess. Why couldn't you just leave us the hell out of it? What did we ever do to deserve having our lives dicked with like this?"

"Sam, I am sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it! Raphael has abducted my brother to do god knows what to him and it is all because of you! If he hurts Dean…"

"I will not let that happen," Castiel promised. "Sam, I swear to you, I will find him before Raphael can lay so much as a finger on him."

Sam glared daggers. "You better."

Instead of answering, Castiel disappeared in a flurry of wings.

ooOOoo