"A Mother never abandons her children."

"I am not your child, you witch. I am my Father's creation!" Castiel declared.

Eve laughed, the song of her mirth both haunting and ethereal. "Your Father abandoned you here—with these… things. These humans. He ignores your cries for help. Left you to a Heaven broken by war and strife. A war that you lost, Castiel." Mother stared at him, eyes piercing his soul. "Where was He when you fought for Him? Where was He when you tried to defeat your brothers and win His kingdom back for Him?" She sneered. "Your Father abandoned you a long time ago."

Castiel stared at her and writhed against the wall, struggling against some unseen force that kept him there. The room was small, damp and felt below ground-level. He didn't know how she found him or where he was... or the state of Dean and Sam. The three of them had been looking for clues in a gravesite and then… Castiel frowned and kept his eyes on her in the dim light.

The Mother of All stepped forward slowly, all pretty white lace and pink cheeks. Her eyes were a deep brown, veiled by thick lashes to hide deceit and wicked delight. Supple rose-petal lips parted to spew more lies. But Castiel wouldn't have it and cut her off.

"He has not abandoned me. He does not abandon His children. My Father is with me now—"

"Oh, He's with you now? The Almighty God cares for a fallen angel? One that failed Him?" Eve lifted her chin to laugh. "Please, Castiel. You are foolish." Mother crossed her arms over her chest. "If He's with you now then beg Him to take you away from here. Beg Him to spare you from the task I've set out for you to do."

"I will do nothing for you!" Castiel spat.

"You have no choice." Eve had stepped too close for comfort, gliding a finger along his chiseled jaw line.

Castiel tried to move his head, but couldn't. Unseen hands kept his body against the wall, kept the fallen angel from averting his gaze from her. Eve smiled at him, cooed, brushed dark hair from his forehead. There was nothing he could do to avoid this… torture. Her darkness frayed the edges of his conscious, threatened to devour him and destroy anything good in him. Treacherous fingers continued to touch him, slide down the length of his neck like an eel. It caused every fiber of his being to crackle with energy... an excitable yet sickening energy.

"You're more human than I thought, Castiel. I can feel it…" Eve whispered into his ear, the heat of her so close.

Castiel swallowed hard and closed his eyes. His lips began to fervently recite the Lord's Prayer as if to provide him a protective barrier. The words spilled from his throat in an ancient language; one so familiar and comforting to his ears. "Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum—"

Eve growled inches from his face, fingers clenched tight around his chin. "God is dead!"

Burning rage poured into his veins, the root of her filth and blasphemy fueling his actions. Suddenly, Castiel could move and, in that very second, grabbed and turned her to slam her against the wall. "I refuse to believe your lies!" He hissed.

Eve feigned her surprise, wincing in pain as her back hit the cold, lifeless brick. Her chest rose and fell with labored breath and the whisper of a groan fell from her poisoned lips. It made him sick. "My lies…" she began with a fetching smile. "Or are they simply truths you have yet to admit to yourself." Eve arched her back enticingly, lifting a finger to his cheek. "No matter, sweet angel."

Castiel jerked his head back from her touch, his frown the evidence of his refusal. He tried to step back, away from her. Yet Eve was quicker, snapping her hand to the nape of his neck. With strength beyond that of a human woman, she pulled him in closer while lips harbored a dark smile. Castiel couldn't react, held too close and too securely. He tried to wrestle her touch from him, sinking fingertips into her wrist.

Eve laughed at him and the sound of it cut through his soul. The cadence of her mirth was a decayed and other-worldly tune. She held onto him steadfast, lured him closer, and brushed her lips just to the corner of his mouth. "So much passion..."

His breath hitched, though not out of desire, but distaste. Castiel struggled wildly against her as if his life were in danger, feeling the claws of temptation at his back. "Release me, whore."

"Your words are so harsh, Castiel. Tell me…" Her touch fell light on his chest, teasing. "Have you ever tasted the earthly comforts of a woman?" Eve purred against him. "I am beginning to wonder if the remnants of your grace has any effect on your stamina."

The very suggestion shocked him, placed him on edge and caused his stomach to turn. Castiel didn't have a chance to respond before the witch leaned forward, lacing his ear with whispers. Her breath caressed his skin like a lover's touch, promising everything while damning him to the core.

"Take me." She soothed. "Fuck me until I scream your name."

His mind went blank with disgust. Castiel's next actions should have reflected his revulsion—to lie with something so evil. He should have stepped away from her, retreated from this den of iniquity. Instead, the very weight of her suggestion rooted him in place and the powerful tone in her command bade him to obey. And that was when his body started moving… with a mind of its own. Mentally, he panicked and tried to resist. This is what Dean had warned him about; the very words from the Mother of All could force anyone to do anything against their will. It was exactly how and why Dean himself had killed Gwen Campbell.

Before Castiel could communicate the resistance to his body, the fallen angel felt the marble of her skin under his palms, riding up her thighs hungrily. His true conscious screamed to stop, but his body couldn't. Eve responded to his touch with the further arching of her back, soft words at his ear.

"That's right, my darling. Partake of my flesh."

Her hand descended to the heat of his arousal, his cock hard and begging to be released from clothing. Castiel responded with a low, guttural groan and instinctively pressed his hips forward to provide himself more friction against her hand. He wanted nothing more than to stop this from happening, but his body refused to listen, damning him further with each passing second. Castiel wanted to pray, yet his words fell in breathless whispers at her jaw line. His lips sought the skin there, dotting its perfection with light kisses. Eve was pleased and moaned her delight, tilting her head just enough to tease her teeth against the shell of his ear. His body shuddered its response, hips moving to bear down needfully on her own. The desire for her became a desperate thing for him then, his whimper foreshadowing his urgency. In that moment, and with all he was, Castiel craved her.

Eve sighed against his ear and it served as the lighted fuse to his carnal appetite. In a near frenzy, Castiel moved to press his lips against hers hungrily. He let his tongue explore her mouth and his teeth nip at her bottom lip. As he did, Eve set her devilish hands to work, delicate fingers rubbing his erection outside his clothing. His moan was choked off by the play of her tongue, his own eagerly rising to the occasion. Castiel hadn't felt anything like this and fed into it with starving fervor, greedy for everything. His true conscious screamed at him in that moment, warning him of his sin. Castiel couldn't listen nor did he want to—and the clarity of the mental confession startled him. The truth of it despaired him. No longer wanting to face his shame, he turned his thoughts away.

It was almost as if Eve had sensed his troubled mind and hoped to distract him with the quickened pace of her handling him. It surged his lust and brought his need for her to a boiling point. Castiel kissed her while one of his hands began a rushed journey up her body. Fingertips caressed her waist and traveled upward, palm brushing against her full breast before finding purchase in her hair. Castiel tugged at the silken strands, which incited a moan from her, and deepened his kiss. His desperation sickened him, excited him, yet he paid it no further attention.

Castiel was done with waiting. His hand abandoned her hair, fled downward to the angled bone of her hips and twisted around the delicate fabric of underthings. With the flick of his wrist, the satisfying rip of flimsy material betrayed her sudden exposure. The very notion that their joining was just moments away thrilled him. In anticipation of the event, Castiel pressed his hips closer to hers, nearly forgetting that her agile hands worked diligently to unfasten his pants. He welcomed the air that rushed to greet him, replaced immediately with the nearness of her, the impossible invitation of her flesh. Greedy, he hoisted her supple body upward and pushed her against the wall with such force. With a groan from her sweet lips, Eve wrapped her legs around him instinctively, her body perfectly angled for entry. His true conscious reared its warning and he dismissed it easily. Too easily.

Despite his need, Castiel hesitated and realized that he faced a point of no return. Eve growled her frustration and tried to tighten her legs around him, to drive him into her. Castiel proved to be stronger and somehow prevented it.

"Please." Eve began, breathless. "I beg you."

Her pleading fueled his hunger, titillated him, and left no more room for hesitation. Burning with sinful lust, Castiel slipped into her and felt how wet the whore bitch was for him. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, mouth slightly agape.. oh, God.. she felt so incredible to him. The heat of her, the feel of her… the gravity of his sin—he gasped with the perfection of it all. As if savoring every possible moment, the descent into her flesh was purposefully slow. Castiel released his breath gradually, providing ghosting whispers across her skin, as if fully exhaling was far too great of a risk. His throbbing erection managed to only make it into her halfway and Eve winced as he hit a significant barrier. It took him several moments for the realization to come it him and he met it with horror.

Her vessel was a virgin.

The strangled gasp froze in his throat and his true conscious gained a sudden strength. The moment of clarity drove home how wrong this was and how deeply ensconced he was in sin. Castiel struggled against her, trying to break free. Eve was quick and pulled at his hair painfully, angling his head harshly to expose his ear.

"Break me, Castiel. Take what is rightfully yours."

Castiel again felt that unmistakable allure in her command and his pure convictions fell away into lust's darkness. The turn of events invited a new sensation and it burned in his gut with a fiery passion. He wanted to punish her. The fallen angel wanted to hurt her for making him feel this way, for laying waste to his own purity and his honor. Castiel jerked his hips forward with such force and drove himself far into her without any thought to her pain.

Eve arched her head back and gasped with such immediacy, throat shuddering out a cry that held no pleasure whatsoever. Castiel delighted in it and pressed his lips to her neck, biting sheer moments later. His fingers bit harshly into hips as he mentally devoured every moment of her anguish, driving into her again and punishing her with his thrust. Ignoring her painful cries, Castiel rocked his hips forward with such hungry need. His selfishness startled him, but he used it against her, damning her with his forceful momentum.

The sweet song of her gasps shifted from distress to pleasure. As if waking from a spell, Eve finally began to favorably react to him, shrugging off the prison of pain in favor of the elysian fruits of their joining. She arched her back and tightened her legs around him to further close the distance between them, to bring their bodies impossibly close. If he had been disappointed that she was no longer in pain, Castiel didn't show it. His mind was lost in the throes of his iniquity.

Castiel pulled her hips and her body more forcefully onto his own with greedy and strong hands, simply not sated. His next thrust became more confident, rougher and Eve relished in it, tangling her fingers into his hair and pulling. His lips sought hers again, the exploration of mouths matching the fevered pitch of their newly-established rhythm as each hungry jolt slammed Eve's back into the wall. She exhibited no pain, only the continued breathlessness and weight of her moaning; a song so tantalizing and iniquitous to his ears. Castiel could feel his own pleasure heighten under her relentless control, unhinging his resolve and casting him further into oblivion.

Castiel wanted to feel every inch of her, every moment of bliss, every shudder that his body made in response. Eve's moaning adopted a deeper tone, tinted brightly with her lust and eagerness for her release. Those moans became erratic, pleasure interrupted by sharp gasps as he dug fingers into her skin. She was enjoying his roughness, reveling in the pain he presumed to be causing her. Castiel growled and added gusto to his latest thrust, forcefully driving himself into her yet again. Eve screamed her ecstasy past her throat, high-pitched sounds interlaced with the calling of his name. The combination brought him to higher levels of his pleasure. It seared at the base of his spine, begging to be released, and clouded the rest of his senses. The sensation was an all-consuming fire.

The mounting sensation quickly gave way to his coming, slamming through his body with such force, with such incredible warmth. It was nothing Castiel had felt before and it shook him to his core, rendering him rubber-limbed. The fallen angel was left in the wake of his afterglow, and its glory was soon replaced by an impenetrable coldness—a reality that left him all but lifeless. Castiel was but a toy to her, now a mindless soldier in her twisted army.

He ignored the arms that soon wrapped around him and held him close. Eve cooed him as if to comfort him, as if to wash away the crushing weight of his own soul. And then she whispered.

"Dean Winchester must die."

The command hit Castiel like a freight train and tore at his insides, creating a gaping wound. His panic bred with the unreal desire to please her, the urge to kill for her. His true conscious struggled to breathe, to refute what she demanded of him. Amid the fear and mental anguish, the postcoital guilt washed away and left him feeling sick.

The night was quiet and the pale moonlight shone through the hotel's window. Castiel felt the cold steel of Dean's .45 colt in his hand, index finger toying with the trigger. The fallen angel could see the outline of his dear friend on the bed, fast asleep and possibly dreaming of better times. Times in which Mother never existed, before he and his brother ever knew that monsters and demons existed. The angel too yearned for those times.

Castiel raised the pistol in line with the hunter's head, close enough for a point-blank shot that would kill Dean instantly. His true conscious screamed at him to stop, to reconsider killing the only one Castiel held so dear. While his body was sure in the task, his mind wasn't. Yet the colt never wavered, never shook as he pressed it to the back of Dean's head. And while he seemed so outwardly confident in Mother's demands, Castiel's blue eyes filled with tears. His actions weren't his own, commanded by the will of a heartless witch.

"Dean…"

The hunter stirred and slowly turned sleepy, green eyes toward the angel. Castiel could feel his heart break under the weight of that gaze, now filled with fear.

"Cas?"

"Dean—please… forgive me."

Castiel could feel the cold reality of the trigger, could feel himself apply pressure. The angel squeezed it and heard the shot fire. He tore his gaze away before he could realize the damage. Castiel couldn't bear to see his Dean dead or dying. The hunter never made a sound.

Sam provided the perfect distraction with his gasp and his desperate search for the light switch. Light suddenly flooded Castiel's vision, providing him too with the sight of Sam's shocked face.

"Dean!" and then, "Cas?"

"I—I.. can't stop it. She has me under her control."

Castiel brought the pistol in line again with Sam and watched the younger brother's eyes widen with horror. The fallen angel, trained so expertly by Dean himself on how to fire a pistol with precise accuracy, proved to be too quick for Sam. Before Sam had the thought to lunge away, Castiel squeezed off another shot. Sam fell dead on the bed in a shower of blood and gore.

While Castiel basked in the haunted moonlight, inside, his true conscious mourned the devastating loss of his friends. He felt the ease of despair that seeped into his soul and wanted to escape this world. Castiel had lost the only thing tethering him to this existence. He wanted to die.

But Mother wouldn't let him. No, that bitch had far too many plans for him.