Castiel feels the first blow connect against his jaw like a tonne of bricks, clenched fist and hard knuckles smashing against the bone, his teeth scraping together and making an awful scrapping noise rattle through his skull. He stumbles with the force of the impact, his shoulder slamming into the building behind him, a sharp brick that had come out of place tearing through his clothing, the several layers he was wearing to protect against the cold offering him little to no protection.
Crystal blue eyes squeeze shut when hands grip painfully tight onto his shoulders, pressing him against the wall harder, pulling him away and shoving him back against it, his head cracking against the brick with a sickening sound.
Darkness creeps up in the edges of his vision, the man - men? - standing in front of him becoming nothing more than a blur of squished together colors and angry sounding words that run into each other to create a garbled mess seeping into a void threatening to suck him in. He blinks desperately, barely able to register the fact that he's been released before his legs give and he's sliding down the wall to rest on the concrete beneath him.
The background noise has faded, leaving behind nothing but a high pitched ring in his ears.
The fallen angel reaches blindly out, fingers curling around the empty space in front of him to grasp at something - anything - and pull himself back up, his mouth falling open to plead for help, the only sound managing to slip from him is a low groan before the black hole swallows him completely.
Gabriel watches with a heavy heart when Castiel stumbles out of the building and into the cold unforgiving night before him. Watching his little brother go from one point to another, no doubt searching for the elusive Winchesters, has become something of a daily thing for the Archangel, making sure that he arrives at his destination safely.
He's taken to doing everything that he can manage to help the fallen angel in any way that might make the long journey a little more bearable on him.
Causing little bursts of sudden winds that blow bills from the hands of unsuspecting people that run down the streets after the bits of paper before they finally give up, the winds shifting under his control to drift the money to his brother. Castiel picks every one up the same. He collects it, his brow furrowing in confusion, and looks around to see if he can spot the owner, before thanking his luck and slipping it into his pocket.
Enveloping the shivering and frightened form of the little brother he taught to fly, warming him when the cold air chills him to the bone and warding away the things that go bump in the night when he has no option other than stopping in a less than favorable location.
Castiel doesn't suspect any outside force for his fortune. Maybe he thinks that it's something finally going right for him or maybe he doesn't think on it at all, Gabriel doesn't care. He just wants to make up for his shortcomings as an older brother. As a protector that should have stepped up long ago and prevented so much heartbreak and so many problems that could have been easily avoided.
So he watches and just barely manages to restrain himself from reaching out and smiting every person in that alleyway, burning them down so that even their souls are fried to a crisp and unrecognizable, instead stepping out from the shadows that keep him just out of Castiel's view. The anger still fans the flame of his grace, causing it brighten and flood out of the alley, spilling into the street, the men making startled noises before making for the exit, where the darkness waits to shelter them from the righteous fury of the Archangel.
When he's satisfied that they won't be back - not that they could have stood any kind of chance against him - he kneels next to Castiel, his little brother with too much heart and not enough strength to protect everyone, though he tries. The fledgling that looked up to him with bright eyes before spreading charcoal black wings and taking flight under his watchful eye, never falling once.
Castiel reaches out in desperation, reaching for something that isn't there, his head lolling to the side, a groan pulled from his throat.
"Castiel," Gabriel reaches for his little brother, noting the way his outstretched hand falls down abruptly and his body goes limp as he slips into unconsciousness, stroking down the length of his face, fingers brushing gently across the cold skin. His grace melds carefully, a bright and warm light knitting the torn flesh and piecing together the broken bones.
He sighs softly, taking a less than comfortable seat beside his fallen brother, gently tugging the sleeping form closer, his head coming to rest on his shoulder, and broad, caramel-colored wings unfurling to wrap around him protectively. He could feel the nag in the back of his skull, telling him that Castiel was fine now - he was safe - but couldn't bear the thought of leaving his little brother, who only wanted to make things better for the world around him, alone in the dark.
Because he'd done very little since he tried to help Sam and Dean with Lucifer and nearly got killed for the effort, but he would be damned if he left his little brother with no one to lean on. If he had to smite every last soul on the planet, he would protect Castiel this time.
His little brother with too much heart.