Mercy
Castiel found himself stripped of his grace, unable to heal himself, and surrounded by at least ten angels. They were inside an abandoned warehouse with darkly tinted windows, half of which were broken. There was enough light for him to see the cruel look on their faces. They were out for revenge against the one who had defied Heaven and caused them fall. He stood with more strength than a human, but much less than an angel, as they had made sure to leave some of his grace in order to prolong his suffering. Whatever they had planned could not be sustained by his human vessel alone. By now, his trench coat, suit jacket and tie had been removed and the two largest, suit clad brothers held him tightly by his arms while the others glared at him, waiting anxiously to exact payback for having fallen. Bartholomew, their callous leader, sauntered in front of Cas, a sadistic sneer on his face. "Well, well, the mighty Castiel." Cas just stared back defiantly. Bart seemed pleased by this. The more defiant Cas was, the more they could beat it out of him. "Do you know how many brothers lost their lives because of you?" Castiel didn't answer. What was the point? This group was out for his blood and he knew it, so nothing he said was going to make any difference. Bart smirked and without even blinking, slammed his fist into Cas' stomach. The Angel doubled over in pain, gasping for air. A second fist slammed the side of his face, cutting his cheek open. Bloody trickled down in a thin stream. Castiel glared back at Bart, gritting his teeth. "Are you angry, Castiel? Well so are we!" He punched the angel once more, square in the gut. He grabbed a handful of Cas' black hair and yanked his head back. "By the end of the day, you'll be begging for mercy".
Efram strolled over to Bart and stood at his side, hands tucked neatly behind his back. His smirk alone made Castiel's skin crawl, but he refused to show any signs of fear. Bart let go of his grip but not before jerking Cas' head back harshly for good measure. Efram then squared off in front of their captive. "I don't want to get my hands dirty, not on this piece of filth," he quipped. One of the brutes holding Cas kicked the back of his knee, hard, and he let out a muffled grunt. When he only dropped to one knee, the second brute kicked the other, forcing Castiel to kneel on the cold and rough cement floor. Efram bent down slightly so he could look Cas in the eye.
"Hey there handsome," Efram said before quickly standing and kicking Cas in the stomach. The Angel gagged, trying to double over as the wind was knocked from his lungs. The two brutes holding Cas yanked him up by the shoulders while tightening their grip on his arms. He couldn't catch his breath if he was upright and they knew it. Efram smiled and kicked him again using the point of his fancy dress shoe to connect with Cas' ribs. Without missing a beat he delivered a third, harsh kick into Cas' gut. As he struggled for air, Efram and the others laughed and smiled with delight at Castiel's suffering.
Efram stepped back, happy with his work and allowed Jonah to step in and have his turn. Jonah kept a sinister, angry look on his face and got right to business. He grabbed Castiel's collar, yanked his hanging head up, and slammed his fist on Cas' jaw three times, then he switched hands and wailed on the other side of Cas' face. A big cut opened above his eye and blood gushed, mixing with the blood from his previous cheek wound. Bart suddenly stepped in and pulled Jonah back, stopping the attack. "Easy brother, we want our little play thing here to stay conscious". Jonah obeyed and stood back, breathing heavily after having exerted himself throwing so many punches.
Castiel's head hung down. Blood thickened by saliva poured from Cas' mouth, large strings of it dangled from his bottom lip. Bart looked at his lackey's handy work and smiled. "Now the real fun can begin". A few of the angels who had been standing in the background moved forward. Two of them had baseball bats. Castiel looked up through blurry eyes and his heart sank. He was beginning to give up hope that he would be saved, rescued from his tormentors before any real damage occurred. Bart could see the desperation creeping onto Cas' face and he reviled with delight. "Aw, something wrong Castiel? No longer feeling so strong are you? No one is coming to save you. You're not worth the trouble. You're worthless Castiel".
"You're wrong," Cas managed to grunt out.
"Am I? Then where are your heroes, your so called family, the Winchesters? Where are they Castiel?"
The Angel's body sagged, tired and weak from the searing pain. Castiel's head rang and his jaw stung. The taste of blood in his mouth combined with the knotted pain in his stomach was making him want to dry heave. He couldn't imagine what they had planned for him next, but his spirit was breaking. Bart crossed slowly back in forth in front of Cas as he spoke softly and calmly.
"Since we cannot understand what it is you love so much about this sad little world that would make you turn your back on your brothers, we thought we'd try this popular human past time of baseball".
Castiel listened as his heart raced. He wasn't sure where Bart was headed with all of this but he knew it wasn't good. The bat wielding thugs began swinging them around slowly, seemingly care free.
"Now here's the fun part Castiel," Bart continued, leaning closer into his face. "You're the ball".
Bart smiled widely, waiting for Cas' reaction, which was only a sad sigh as he dropped his head down, defeated. Bart cleared a path and the two brutes pulled Cas roughly back onto his feet. He tried to struggle, but it was useless. Even at full power he was far too outnumbered and at this point he was growing incredibly weak. One of the "batters" lined up in front of the Angel, slinging the hunk of wood onto his shoulder like a pro. The brute on his right side began twisting Cas' arm up behind his back but Cas fought against making any sound. "I'll break it," the brute said as he twisted harder, bending Cas' elbow. That's when Cas let out a howl and the two threw him towards the batter who swung with perfect timing, nailing Cas across the stomach with the head of the bat. Castiel dropped like a stone, hitting the floor hard on both knees. He wrapped both arms around his mid-section, choking and leaned his forehead against the floor. It was the only thing keeping him from falling over. As he struggled for breath like someone who had been drowning, the other angels cheered and laughed, circling around like hungry wolves.
"I'm pretty sure that's what they call a homerun," said Efram, a delighted bystander.
The two brutes grabbed Cas roughly by the shoulders and his waistband and before he knew what was happening, threw him backwards this time. Cas stumbled for about two steps trying to catch his footing when the second batter stepped in and slammed him across the back. The pain was different this time, piercing across his body like he had been stabbed. He hit the ground hard, flat against the unforgiving floor. He twisted around, trying to grab his back, as if that would help stop the agonizing pain. The angels had no intention of slowing down and Cas was whisked up again and thrown forward. He had no time to brace for any impact as the third swing caught him in the chest. He went down again, landing on all fours. He grabbed his front with one hand, balancing his body shakily with the other. That lasted only a few seconds before his arm was kicked out and his fell on his side once more. Tired of lifting and throwing him, the brutes left him on the ground this time as the batters gave their weapons to some other, eager angels. The hits now came from above with rapid precision. The first hit him square in the thigh, just above his knee. He screamed and grabbed his leg, writhing in pain as another swing hit the shin of his already throbbing leg. The soft spot between his rib cage and hip was next, causing surprisingly more pain than a cracked bone. The last two blows hit Cas right between his shoulder blades, which caused his muscles to seize for a moment before an intense and fiery pain raged down his spine. Castiel's breaths were now short and quick as he panted through gritted teeth.
"That was fun," Efram said. "I think I like baseball".
"Oh, we're not done just yet, brother," Bart assured him.
Cas sighed and shook his head lightly, as if to say no more. Bart smiled, happy that he was getting exactly what he wanted, breaking Castiel's spirit. But he wanted it more than just broken, he wanted it destroyed. Cas' hope of a rescue faded away as he wondered to himself if Sam and Dean would ever come for him. The two brutes grabbed hold of the Angel once more and jerked him to his feet like a rag doll. There was no longer a need for these two, other than to keep Cas on his feet, as he would have collapsed to the floor the second they let go of his sagging body. His once white shirt was splattered with bright and dark red blood mixed with streaks of dirt from the floor. Cas' face was caked with dry blood that had begun to crack on his skin. He stood with his damaged leg slightly bent like a lame racehorse.
Bart walked in front of him again, smirking. He kept silent for what seemed like an eternity. Cas was still very conscious; exhausted and in excruciating pain, but very much aware of everything that was happening. Bart's current tactic was working, causing fear within Cas, making him worry about what was going to happen next. His pulse raced and his heart pounded. One of the brutes held his slumped head up by a scruff of hair on the back of his Cas' neck.
"Do you think we are merciful," Bart asked.
Castiel simply looked back, confused by the question.
Bart grabbed hold of Cas' throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort.
"Do you think we are merciful," Bart repeated.
Castiel didn't know if he should answer truthfully.
Bart's grip tightened.
"Yes," Cas whispered, his voice raspy.
Bart released Cas' throat.
"That's right. Contrary to what you might think, we are. Now ask your brothers for mercy".
Still puzzled, Cas tried to steady his breath as he sank his weight into the arms of the brutes holding him.
Bart spoke again, slowly, almost chillingly.
"Ask them for mercy".
Castiel looked at Bart, his eyes begging for sympathy. He didn't know what Bart meant or what he wanted, but he mustered a quiet, "mercy, brother".
"Not me… them."
Bart turned around, his right hand outstretched like a car salesman pointing out the best features. Behind him stood the other angels in a neat line. The first in line was unfamiliar to Cas whom he did not recognize. He was wielding a pair of Enochian Brass Knuckles and seemed eager to stand in front of their prized prisoner. He stared at Castiel, waiting and growing impatient.
"Well," Bart said. "Go on."
It was now apparent to Cas exactly what Bart wanted. The thing he had promised earlier when this torture session began - for Cas to beg for mercy. In one last defiant act, the Angel held his tongue. Each of the brutes twisted his arms up and back in an effort to make him beg. Cas resisted as long as he could, crying out in pain, until he finally spat out the words… "Mercy, brother, please."
The unknown angel took but a few seconds to make his decision before slamming Cas in the ribs with the brass knuckles as hard as he could. Castiel heard a rib crack for sure, possibly two, and he cried out in agony just as a second blow struck his ribs again. His assailant definitely wanted to hurt Cas more, but stepped out of line and made room for the next attacker. Castiel wished he could drop to the floor, curl up and wait for Dean or Sam to find him. But, unfortunately, Bart and his group had other plans. A second angel, also unknown to Cas, stepped up. He knew what they wanted to hear and that it was useless to disobey. Through half shut eyes Cas looked at him.
"Merc…"
His words were cut off by a hard punch to his mouth. Blood spurted out as his head snapped to the side with force. Apparently, this angel had made up his mind before Castiel had even finished pleading. One of the brutes held onto Cas' collar and twisted it tight to keep his head from drooping. Dark blood dripped from Cas' open mouth. He thought he might pass out or even throw up. He had so much blood filling his stomach, he could feel its warmth running down the back of his throat. A third angel stood now, ready for his turn. He looked at Cas who was lightly swaying between the two brutes. He had no anger on his face like the other angels and Cas recognized this, hoping he might finally be met with sympathy.
"Ask him," Bart demanded.
Castiel, who's breathing had grown slow and shallow, mumbled, "mercy…brother".
This angel stood looking as Castiel and the suffering he had endured and began to walk away. Cas managed the slightest of smiles, a thank you to his plea for mercy, when Efram smashed the heel of his shoe into the middle of Cas' spine. He flew forward, hitting the ground. The two brutes had grown tired of holding the Angel's weight anyway so they left him sprawled out on his stomach. Bart quickly took control of Cas' new situation and kicked him, flipping Cas onto his back. Jonah and Efram each stepped on one of Cas' wrists, which was unnecessary as he could barely move at this point, but they enjoyed making him feel even more helpless. Bart pressed one foot onto Cas' already painful and bruised chest.
"Looks like you have at least one brother, Castiel. Too bad it's not enough to save you."
Bart pressed his weight down slow and hard into Cas' torso, twisting slightly for maximum pain. Cas coughed up flecks of crimson liquid which splashed his lips. He groaned faintly, as he no longer had the energy for words. Efram sneered cruelly at Cas' obvious pain. As soon as Bart finally lifted his foot off of the Angel's broken body, Efram stomped on Castiel's hand with his free foot. As he screamed out in pain, Efram smashed the same hand again for good measure. With a slight head nod, Bart signaled the other angels, including Efram and Jonah, to back away from Castiel, who immediately rolled into his side, cradling his now broken hand and wrist. Bart peered down at the damaged Angel. He was pleased with his work, but still felt it was not enough and had one last way for Cas to suffer. He pulled an angel blade from his sleeve and knelt down beside Castiel. After a moment he slit Cas' shirt open from the bottom up to his collar and spread the ripped halves apart.
"Mark him," he said coldly and stepped out of the way as four angels rushed at the opportunity, each pulling their own angel blade.
Castiel first felt the cold metal against his back, which oddly soothed the growing welts and bruises from the previous beatings. But, as they began slicing his flesh, a burning sensation increased to an unbearable level. His screams only made them dig deeper. He could sense a pattern, a method to what they were doing, and prayed it would end soon. Short, tiny bursts of his grace escaped his skin as they continued with their design. When they had finished, Castiel laid trembling, his vessel slipping into a state of shock. He curled on his side, quietly whimpering. He could feel his back was soaked with blood. The angels who carved him were out of breath waiting for their leader's next command. Bart looked down at Cas, and tilted his head.
"That will do, for now," he said blankly.
He smiled before squatting down next to Cas. The Angel shook, a bloody and battered heap on the ground. Bart took his index finger and wiped a small spot of Castiel's blood from his shredded body. He grasped Cas' shoulder and rolled him flat on his back, knowing the dirt from the floor would sting his open wounds. Cas drew his breath is quickly from the pain as Bart gently grabbed hold of his chin. He turned the Angel's face towards him so they could look in each other's eyes. Bart simply whispered, "worthless," then he stood up and walked away. All of the angels followed, though Efram paused, wanting to stay and finish the job. Castiel listened to them leave, his eyes shut tight. He was now all alone on the cold ground. Sam and Dean had not come to his rescue. He drew his knees in slowly, and sobbed quietly.
Hours passed as Cas lied on the ground motionless. Blood was caked under his finger nails and in his hair. There were a few clean streaks on his face from where his tears had streamed down. He never heard the door open, only faint footsteps that drew closer and heavier. He could discern that there was more than one person as the steps increased their pace. When they finally stopped, Castiel braced himself, expecting a kick or a punch to connect with his aching body. Instead a hand touched his shoulder gently. He recoiled instinctively and covered his face.
"No, no, please… mercy, please…"
"Cas, Cas, it's me, it's Dean."
The Angel slowly opened his eyes. The pain in his head was blinding. His vision was a bit hazy but he saw that it was truly his friend, and not his imagination. Sam was there too, squatting down next to Cas' other side.
"Dean?" Castiel said softly as his eyes welled up.
"Hey buddy, we're gonna get you out of here. Just hang in there."
Dean was shocked, not only by the appearance of Cas and his injuries, but he had never seen him so broken, so scared, so vulnerable. His heart sank as he swallowed hard to keep from tearing up himself. He didn't want Cas to see and pretended everything would be fine.
"Sam, let's get him up, go easy".
"Dean," Sam said softly, motioning to his brother towards Castiel's back. They exchanged a quick look. Both brothers were sickened by what they saw. Though it was stained with blood and grime, seven dark red letters stood out, clearly visible and carved deeply in his skin... TRAITOR.
The End (for now?)