Dean lay sprawled on the couch, at his side sat a half-full bottle of beer. Several more drained bottles were scattered at his feet. It had taken a number of hours- the exact number he could not quite recall- to fall into a drunken daze, the state that he sought after in situations like the one he was facing now. Waking up hungover and drowning in guilt was something he could do tomorrow morning.

Right now, his mind was elated. The comfort of near-oblivion blanketed his surroundings in a pleasant buzz on nonchalance. The only action he felt entirely capable of presently was the lifting of the bottle to his lips. Now was the time to escape into his own little world. Now was not the time to think about just how many times he'd fucked up, how many lives he had condemned, how his life was an inescapable ring where the competitors just kept coming. The self-loathing could be dealt with when he was sober enough to even consider it.

A thump at the door caught Dean's attention. The person on the other side of the door was mostly probably Sam, returning from whatever bar he'd fucked off to earlier. But then again, Sam never knocked when entering one of their shared motel rooms.

Dean was instantly suspicious, haphazardly pulling himself off the couch and feeling for the gun that rested at his hip.

"Sammy?" He called, trying to ignore the slur to his words.

The door flew open, shocking Dean back a few steps, to reveal the figure in its wake. The intruder wasted no time in crossing the threshold to stand just within an arm's reach from Dean.

The angel stood, locking their gazes. A grin unlike that which Dean recognized wove its way into his features, and slow trickles of black gooey liquid dripped from his hairline, eyes and mouth, creating a disturbing and repulsive sight.

"Cas…"

"Hello Dean!" The words lost their solemn and neutral familiarity, instead elated by an energised and excited tone. "Sorry, Cas isn't here right now, but we'll play with you!"

"H-Holy shit." Dean muttered, stumbling backwards in the realisation of just what he was dealing with. The recently emerged enemies he had just been trying to escape.

The grin on Castiel's stolen face widened, and psychotic intent danced in his dulled eyes.

"Give him back. Give him back, you-!" Dean cut himself off by ripping his gun from its holster and pointing it at Cas's face.

The leviathans rolled Castiel's eyes, before grabbing the gun, tearing it from Dean's grip and flinging it across the room, to clatter uselessly far from Dean's reach.

"You humans." They sighed gleefully. Before Dean could react, their fingers settled on his collar and he was thrown across the room, landing heavily on his shoulder. "So pathetic!"

Dean fought to regain his knees whilst the room around him tilted sickeningly, lurching him back against the linoleum flooring. Groaning, he fought to keep a clear line of sight trained on the approaching hijacked angel. The wicked and unwholesome grin that Cas's stolen face bore evoked fiery anger in his chest, driving his hand to reclaim the gun.

"Give him back, give him back, you-!" He cried. Castiel lurched towards him, his intent clear, but paused momentarily when, at the crack of the gun and the expulsion of powder, a bullet was planted between his eyes.

Dean froze, simultaneously shocked and victorious, watching the hijacked angel. The fleeting leap of his heart plummeting back into his gut when Cas shook it off, cackling.

"He's gone, Dean. Cas has gone far, far away."

Dean blinked hard against the sting of his eyes, trying to fight back the threat of emerging tears.

"You bastards." He hissed, shattering at the sound of his own voice cracking. Dean's eyes averted from Cas', scanning the room for any remaining footholds he could exploit in his losing battle. The edge of a knife glinted dully in the strained light of the window, sitting on the edge of the dining table. A convenient place, but too hard to reach with Cas standing between them. Dean's fingers clutched the gun again, clicking it as it reloaded smoothly.

"Going to try that again, Dean?" The leviathan's asked with obtrusive amusement, recapturing Dean's full attention. "Wow, even for us that's-!"

They were cut off suddenly by a sudden and inexplicably violent jerk of their entire form. Their scalding words dissipated to heavy gasps as some sort of internal battle commenced, masked from Dean's vision.

"Dammit! Why can't you just stay dead?!" Castiel's stolen voice howled. The body again jack-knifed forwards, forcing the leviathans to clutch onto the arm of the sofa.

Stay dead? Dean wondered, watching in silent captivation as the leviathans struggled in their stolen vessel. That's…..

"Cas!" Without another thought, Dean's own cries entered and mixed with the frustrated howls of the leviathans. "Castiel! Listen to me! It's Dean!"

In response, the angel's body folded almost in half, shaking arms gripping into his sides, and retched violently, black goo flowing freely from his lips, spilling onto and staining the linoleum.

The leviathans then paused, and Dean's heart soared into his throat as the vessel's head slowly rose, bleary eyes catching Dean's own.

"Dean?"