Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Winchesters, Crowley, Castiel, or any other characters. *sigh*
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Dean opened his eyes to find himself in a dark and damp warehouse, tied to a pole. He could feel the cool metal pressed against his wrists, which were tied together with a rough twine. He shifted to his right, and found Sam in a similar situation, only unconscious.
He felt a warm trickle of something he assumed to be blood running down his cheek from his temple. Not too shabby for a couple of demons he thought bitterly, remembering their ambush during which he, Sam, and Castiel had all been captured. Hey, come to think of it, where was the Holy Tax Accountant? He looked around, noticing a shard of glass near Sammy, but to his dismay, found no sign of his favorite angel. The warehouse was fairly plain, a nasty looking chair with metal cuffs stood in the center and multiple doors decorated the walls, but no angel.
He heard a slight moan and the scrape of rope on metal.
"Hey, hey, Sammy, you with me?" he asked quietly; the attention of near-by demons was the last thing they needed.
"Yeah, I'm good. What's the-" They both froze as a door to the right of the brothers opened and out stepped three demons, Crowley, and Castiel. The angels looked a bit shaken, but otherwise unharmed. Crowley on the other hand, sported a healthy gash on the side of his face, arcing from just below the temple to his chin. Dean felt a glowing pride for Cas; the guy had at least put up a fight.
The demons roughly escorted Castiel to the chair. They clasped his hands into the cuffs, confining him to the chair.
"I will never tell you where it is," Cas spat at Crowley, in his gruff voice. Where what is? Dean wondered. *click* His feet were now attached to the legs of the chair. The demons retreated to positions a few feet behind the chair, facing the Winchesters.
"Oh, we'll see about that, cupcake." Crowley replied, a sly smile creeping onto his face, making the cut dance. He returned to the doorway and disappeared for a good ten seconds. Dean heard the creak of wheels before he saw the cart. It was piled high with various means of torture; angel blades, holy oil, bullets crafted from melted angel blades, and many more. The King of Hell brought it forward, letting it roll to a stop mere inches from Cas. The angel maintained a cool and defiant countenance, but Dean could tell there was a hint of fear in his eyes.
"I am going to tear you apart, Castiel, and I am going to make them watch." Crowley gestured in Sam's direction, brandishing a short and jagged angel blade. It looked custom made. Did he have people on his side that could make angel blades? That is serious bad news. He made a show of clothing himself in a white apron speckled with faded blood stains.
"You sonofabitch," Dean snarled. This, this, was why he was going to kill him first. Not because of any genocide or homicide or whatever-cide, but because he was going to torture his friend. Cas had put them through some crap, but after everything, he still came back. After acting like a diva and playing God, he still came back around to try and fix everything. Sure, he didn't exactly send the world a fruit bsket, but it's the thought that counts, right?
"Hope that stings," Sam said, referring to the cut and gradually forming bruise on Crowley's face.
"My mistake of letting the varmint near my toys," Crowley replied, glancing at the cart. Dean could've sworn he saw a glint of satisfaction on Cas's face. He tested his bonds, feeling for a weak spot, and when he found none, he began to panic.
Keep it cool, he thought to himself, every trap has a way out. Just a matter of finding it, He shifted his weight to his left, using his right foot to search his leg for any of his hidden daggers and knives. He could see Sammy doing the same.
"No use, moose. I've stripped you of your pretty little blades. Now just sit tight and if you're lucky, I might let you have a minute alone with Cassie's corpse," The thought of Cas's lifeless body sent shivers down Dean's spine and left a rock in his gut. He fought against his ropes, and, to his surprise, felt a small amount of give. It was tiny, but evidently there. He twisted in order to give himself a better leverage, and tried again. A bead of sweat popped onto his brow with the strain. Crowley walked over to Castiel, knife in hand. He ceremoniously undid the buttons of Cas's shirt, and with a flourish, ripped his tie from his neck. Cas tensed with suspense and faced Crowley with a glare.
"I'll give you a chance to walk out of here right now. Tell me where the weapon is, and I will let you live," Crowley said, testing the tip of the blade with his fingertip, producing a droplet of crimson liquid.
Weapon?
"In the words of a… good friend… bite me," Cas practically spat the last two words at Crowley.
"Your funeral," Crowley said, hastily raising his arm to Castiel's neck. He slowly sunk the blade in to Cas's flesh just below his right collarbone, carving in a crooked line all the way down to his hips. Cas groaned, his vocal outburst cut short by a fist making contact with his jaw. Dean continued to struggle, but it seemed the more he fought the tighter the rope cut into his skin. His attempts became more urgent. The gash on Castiel's chest pulsed a pale blue light, and Cas took a deep but shaky breath. He brought his face back up to stare at Crowley, tilting it ever so slightly. Crowley, in turn, stared down at him. Cas closed his eyes, and the light emitting from his wound changed from blue to gold. After seconds, the gash was gone.
"Healing yourself, are we? I'm afraid we can't have that," Crowley said turning towards the cart. From it he plucked a contraption that looked sickeningly familiar to Dean. Once he found a memory to go along with the feeling, he gaped in horror. It was the same contraption Crowley had used to dissect the brain of Alfie, the Wiener Hut angel. Castiel began to struggle against his cuffs, flexing and relaxing his biceps. Crowley cackled quietly, placing the leather and metal crown upon Cas's head and secured the straps below his chin. The ring fit perfectly around Castiel's head. Crowley wasted no time selecting a silver pin with a needle sharp tip that glinted threateningly even in the dim lighting. He placed it in a hole cut from the metal, and began to slide it painstakingly slowly into Castiel's head.
Castiel screamed, and a vial of holy oil exploded, spraying both him and Crowley with the liquid. Crowley removed his hands, leaving the pin sticking out of Castiel's skull. His experiments with Alfie must have been more fruitful than they had imagined, if he could alter an angel's abilities with one pin. Cas's eyes remained screwed shut.
"And Bob's your uncle; no more healing!" Crowley said. Cas groaned in response. Sam, who had remained motionless throughout the entire session of group therapy, stretched his fingers towards the shard of glass that Dean had noticed earlier. Dean grunted as he pulled the ropes taunt, hoping the stress would snap them. The twine began to unravel, but not fast enough. Crowley advanced upon Cas once more, with the same jagged blade he had before. He re-created the gash that previously decorated Castiel's chest, but this time it didn't disappear. Cas panted, blood dripping onto the grimy floor of the warehouse.
"Tell me where it is Castiel," Crowley said as he returned to the cart, selecting a sleek and long blade, similar to the one Cas carried. He brought it to Castiel, holding it up to his eyes in order to let the angel admire it.
"Never," Cas said simply. Crowley lowered the blade, lightly dragging the tip to Cas's ribcage. He made a gash along the lowest left rib, and an identical one against the right. Cas cried out again, his voice cracking. Crowley hacked at Cas's shoulder, the blade slicing through flesh as if it were melting butter. Cas cried out again, the sound echoing and magnifying along the metal walls of the warehouse. A demon stepped through a side door, into Dean's view.
"Sir, you've got a phone call," the demon said, his voice brimming with self-importance, "It's Princeton."
"I'm a tad busy at the moment, tell him to leave a message," Crowley growled. Before he could return to his work, the demon spoke up again.
"I think you'll want to hear this, sir. It is important." That caught Crowley's attention. He glanced down at Castiel's form and apparently decided to leave him with a parting gift.
"Hold this, would you?" He said, kneeling down so that he was face to face with Castiel, obstructing Dean's view. All he could see was Cas's face. The angel tilted his head in confusion, his brow's crinkling. Then, suddenly, his face contorted with agony and surprise, and the angel gasped. Dean sat up, craning his neck to see what Crowley had done. The King of Hell moved, worryingly empty handed, revealing Cas's body. Sticking straight out of Castiel's shoulder, was the angel blade.