First off, thanks to all the reviewers, followers and favers for this story already! I'm glad you all think it's interesting and are excited about it ;) I always love to get reviews from you guys!

Also, I am updating this on Mondays and Fridays. You all seem to like the two updates a week better (and personally, I do too) so I'm going to stick with that :)

And to my anonymous reviewer Lisa, thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I am glad you're enjoying this and my other fics as well :)

Chapter Two

As soon as the sheriff and the ranger cleared off, Sam, Dean and Cas wrapped the angel's body in an old drop cloth and loaded it into the Impala. With Cas' consent, they drove a little farther out into the woods and set up a pyre to burn the body. While angels didn't run the risk of having ghosts (at least not that they knew of) a hunter's funeral was an honor they wanted to give someone who had been Cas' friend.

Sam watched the angel as he stood next to the pyre, looking into the flames, his face troubled and solemn. Sam and Dean stood a little bit away, and Sam turned to Dean to speak quietly.

"What should we do about this?" he asked. "You don't think Cas in in danger, do you?"

"I don't know, even he said he hasn't seen anything like this."

"And he's sure it was an angel who did this? Not demons?"

"Even I could tell there was no sulfur on or around the body and you know how much demons reek, especially when they get excited," Dean said and Sam shrugged in agreement. Dean was silent for a few seconds then said. "I'm inclined to believe his theory of it being Lucifer. If only because that would just be our friggin' luck."

Sam felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine at the mention of the devil. He didn't like the idea that Lucifer was in on all this, but he had to agree that it seemed more than likely.

"I mean, think about it," Dean continued. "He's topside and trying to find an army. It would make sense that he would go to seemingly rebellious angels, ones he thinks he can turn and make fall like he did. And then if they refuse, kill them in some horrific way that would deter refusals from others."

"It does make sense in a way, but doesn't it also seem a little…I don't know, petty almost?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Lucifer is raising the Horsemen, Dean, they have way more fire power than a few fallen angels. I mean, look at Cas, he's been ailing since he fell, he's cut off from heaven, they wouldn't even be as powerful as Lucifer's top demons if he was just looking for soldiers."

"He could be looking for inside men," Dean suggested.

"I guess," Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully. "But then why alert other angels that someone is targeting them? There's just something about it that doesn't seem right. I think we need to do some investigating."

"And if it is Lucifer?" Dean asked him quietly, turning to face his brother with a serious expression in his eyes.

"Then we'll deal with that when we get to it," Sam said with a sigh.

Cas turned away from the pyre and walked over to them. "You two should go back to your room and get some sleep," he said quietly. "I can stay here and put the fire out."

Sam and Dean shared a look. "I don't know if it's a good idea we leave you out here, Cas," Sam said honestly.

The angel sighed. "I'll be fine, Sam. What I do know is that we have a lot of work to do, and you should rest while you can. That is, if you will help me on this."

"Of course," Dean told him. "You've been helping us for the past couple months, it's only fair. Besides, this has got to have some bearing on the apocalypse too, right? That involves all of us. But it's no trouble that we stay."

Cas gave them a small, sad smile. "I appreciate it, but I would rather like to be alone for a while. I will see you in the morning."

He turned back to the pyre, and Sam and Dean eventually trudged back toward the car. They wearily drove back into town and by the time they had gotten to their hotel room, they were too tired even to shower, and fell asleep in their dirty and smoke scented clothes. Even the thought of possibly having to face Lucifer couldn't keep Sam up that night.

Castiel stood beside the pyre until it completely burned out. His thoughts were both dark and anxious. Arundel had been a friend, his brother in arms, and one of the few angels he would have thought he could trust, even after he had fallen. He had given Dean the ultimatum, that it might be Lucifer responsible for his murder, but, truthfully, Cas thought it was much closer to Heaven than that.

Ever since there had been suspicions that God was not the one giving the orders in Heaven, there had been turmoil among the angels, maybe there were others like Castiel who didn't want to take orders from angels who meant more harm than good, both to their brothers and sisters and to the humans they were supposed to protect. In truth, the thought of allies among his own brethren was something Castiel had given up on a while ago, but perhaps there was still hope. If only they weren't all taken out by this unknown murderer first.

A chill found its way into his chest and his wings twitched at the thought of what had happened to Arundel. The agony he must have been in when he died, not just physical but the mental anguish of having a part of you ripped away. Even now, Castiel understood the pain, the depression even, of living with half your power as he was now, but he still had his wings. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose those too now after everything.

He frowned then as something occurred. Arundel's wings hadn't been taken at the site where they had found his body. There would have been more blood, more signs of struggle. He had been killed there, definitely, but where had his attacker taken his wings?

Castiel looked back at the pyre, almost burned now and safe to leave in the stillness of the early morning hours. He went back to the site of the body and cast around for clues, anything he could find as to what direction Arundel might have come from.

He crouched at the patch of blood-clotted leaves and then began following a trail, his heightened senses aiding him like a bloodhound. There was a difference to angel blood than human. It was, of course, for the most part human, coming from the vessel the angel occupied, but it had a tint of grace in it as well. If Arundel were still alive and at full power, he would have been able to see the grace in the blood fluoresced as if under a black light, but as it was, he could only follow the trail by sense and the barely detectable glow it gave off—the fading grace of a dead angel.

But there was still a blood trail to follow and he followed it until he came upon the forest ranger road that wound through the trees. Here was where the blood stopped and even though Castiel tried his best, he could find no other indication of it. Arundel must have been dropped here and perhaps was able to escape for a moment, trying to flee into the woods, unless…

Unless he had simply been taken here in a vehicle, and had tried to escape it. If that was the case, then this whole thing got even more confusing and complicated than Castiel had originally thought. He would need the Winchesters help on this.

And perhaps some others' as well.

Right now, though, it was almost dawn, and Castiel went back to the pyre and the smoldering embers and he scattered Arundel's ashes around the ground. It was damp enough from recent rains that he wasn't afraid of forest fires and he left the embers to cool as he flew back to the hotel where the Winchesters were staying.

He appeared in their room and when he saw they were still sleeping, he took up residence on the couch and closed his own eyes. While he didn't sleep, he needed some time of quiet meditation as he thought about what he was going to do.

The next morning, when Sam and Dean woke, they decided that it was best they leave for the next town over so they could still be in the vicinity to investigate this new case, but they wouldn't run the risk of running into the sheriff again and having to answer questions they couldn't. While they grabbed a quick breakfast, Castiel related the discoveries he had made the night before.

"That is strange," Dean admitted when Castiel told him his suspicions that Arundel might have been brought out into the woods via car. "I mean, angels don't usually drive."

"Is there any way you could find out for sure?" Castiel asked.

Sam frowned. "I don't know, probably not. There would be too much evidence of other vehicles on the road since it's used by the rangers, and I highly doubt they have surveillance cameras out there."

"Then we have nothing," Castiel said blandly. He had been on enough hunts with the brothers to know a dead end when he saw one.

"Not from that angle, no," Sam admitted. "But that doesn't mean that we can't find out information in other ways."

Castiel mulled this over for a few seconds. "I may have someone I can contact."

"Hold on, like an angel?" Dean asked.

"Yes, someone from my garrison. If they know what Arundel was doing before he was murdered, they may be able to help us with possible suspects."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Cas?" Dean asked cautiously. "You have no idea who's behind this. It might be someone from your garrison and you could unknowingly contact the killer or at least alert him. It could put you in danger too." Castiel narrowed his eyes in determination. "Perhaps, but I cannot sit by and watch more of my friends be slaughtered so horribly. If there's anything I can do to help, I will do it, despite the possible consequences. Would you not do the same in my position, Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something then shut it again. "Yeah, alright. But how do you plan on playing this?"

"I will send a message through angel radio, as you call it, and set up a meeting face to face. That will be safer than risking anyone else hearing the message."

"For the record, I don't like this," Dean said stubbornly.

"There's not really anything else he can do, Dean," Sam admitted. "Besides, we can't risk losing any more angels who might actually be on our side."

Dean sighed, and finally stood up from the table. "I know. I just think we all need to be careful with this one."

"I agree," Castiel said. "And I will be."

They packed up in time for check out and were out of the city and into the next town over before noon. Sam and Cas started working in their new motel room while Dean went to pick up food.

"I thought we should start out by looking for any other strange murders that might fit the MO," Sam explained, tapping out a search on his laptop. "Though if it's too weird some people might just 'forget' to write up certain details. I mean, most people won't know to check for vamp fangs and whatnot, but it's not like they're going to miss wing…stumps." He winced and looked apologetically over the top of his computer at the angel. "Do you think it's odd that the angels would leave a body out where people could find it? I mean, it's not like it was in the middle of the city, but it's a forest that's patrolled pretty regularly and has a lot of hikers."

Castiel frowned, thinking it over. "It is a bit strange that they wouldn't try to cover it up, but the angels, especially the kind who are capable of doing things like this, so rarely think about who sees what they do. Even I will admit to not entirely caring before you and Dean explained about keeping a 'low profile' and the merits of such an action. The killer may not have even considered the fact that it could be potentially dangerous to everyone involved if they were discovered." Dean had mentioned Area 51 before, and from what Castiel knew about that, he didn't think it would be pleasant. Whether or not scientific experimentation and dissection is actually what would happen if angels were caught, he was still a bit skeptical. They were not the fictional extra terrestrials, after all. Everyone knew aliens didn't exist. But angels were still something your average person couldn't explain and in their minds, that made them dangerous. "Of course, with the apocalypse fast approaching, they may not care who sees what they do anyway."

"Okay, so they're not really attempting to hide. That may be good for us in our investigation," Sam said as he looked some more.

Dean brought back hamburgers and while they ate and continued their researching, Castiel sent a quick message to the angel he thought best for the job. Lauriel. She had been a good friend of Arundel and they had all fought together under Anna at one time before the former commander had left Heaven. Even if Castiel couldn't be sure of her loyalty toward him, he was certain Lauriel would never betray Arundel, and if anyone knew what he had been doing, she would.

"So how does this work, you just send out a message and they check the answering machine?" Dean asked.

"Well, it's not quite like that, no," Castiel said, not really knowing how to explain it to the hunter. "Most messages will go directly to the angel in question, and sometimes they will reply, or sometimes they won't. If Lauriel is busy she may not be able to reply to me."

"And no one else can hear them?" Sam asked.

Castiel hesitated. "Usually messages are private, but they might be monitored by a higher-up due to all the turmoil. I made the message short and without any specifics, just a time and place to meet, but…"

"But what?" Dean demanded.

"Well, a message from me at all, no matter the content, could very well put up red flags if anyone is listening. Lauriel might not be the only one to show up."

"Great," Dean grunted. "So what you're saying is that you could be walking into a trap."

"It's a possibility."

"Dammit, Cas," Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't like this."

"It doesn't matter whether you like it or not, Dean, I am doing this," Castiel told him firmly. "And you and Sam aren't coming with me."

"Wait, what?" Sam asked, looking up as Dean looked at Castiel like he was an idiot.

"Are you kidding me? Of course, we're coming," Dean told him.

Castiel stood so he could be closer to Dean's eye level. "No, you're not. You don't understand. If this is a trap, then the likeliest angel to show up will be Zachariah, and if he gets his hands on the both of you, you won't stand a chance of refusing Michael, Dean. And Sam, you'll just be collateral to get Dean to say yes. You both know Zachariah isn't above torture, and if you labor under the delusion that it couldn't possibly be as bad as what you experienced in hell, you are wrong. I should know." Castiel looked away, his jaw clenching as his nerves smarted for a moment, remembering his 'lessons' at Zachariah's hands when he had disobeyed orders and told the Winchesters too much about the Seals and the Apocalypse.

Dean swallowed hard, casting a glance at Sam before turning back to Cas. "Alright, fine, but you check in every quarter hour, okay?"

Castiel looked at him long-sufferingly but agreed. Dean had been an elder brother for far too long, and Castiel was beginning to see what Sam meant when he called Dean a 'mother hen'.

"When are you meeting her?" Sam asked.

"In about an hour. I still haven't heard back, but I will go to the spot and wait. She may not want to reply to me and risk someone finding out."

"Okay," Dean said. "But if she doesn't show within thirty minutes, do yourself a favor and get out of there. I think that will be answer enough."

Castiel nodded reluctantly. "I believe it will."

When it was time for him to go meet Lauriel, Dean and Sam were still trying to talk him out of going alone, but he wasn't having any of it. He was not about to let the brothers be taken by the angels, not when he had already gone to such lengths to protect them. This was his problem, and he would not drag them into this. Of course, it would only be a waste of breath to say as much out loud; Sam and Dean were notoriously stubborn and voicing his opinion would probably only make them more so.

He left the motel room before they could protest any further and flew to the spot he was to meet Lauriel, at the head of one of the hiking trails in the woods. It was almost time for their meeting, and he held his angel blade at the ready, knowing that it wouldn't do to be caught unawares. There was a higher probability that this was a trap than he had been willing to admit to the Winchesters.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he snatched it up, vaguely annoyed to see that it was Dean.

"What?" he asked tersely.

"Geez, sorry for interrupting your date, Cas, just making sure you're there and not on a one way train to Heaven's very own Alcatraz."

"I'm fine, she's not here yet, but I will keep you updated."

He ended the call before Dean could go on any longer. Sometimes the Winchesters talked too much.

Castiel waited another fifteen minutes before he started to get a bit anxious. He wanted to send Lauriel another message, but knew that she would get to him if she could. And if she couldn't—or wouldn't—well, then it was probably already too late.

Just as he thought that, he heard a rustle in the woods and felt a presence, but not an angelic one. Thinking it was probably just a hiker, he quickly stowed his blade and turned toward the Plexiglas case that held a map of the trails nearby to try and 'blend in'.

"Lauriel couldn't make it."

Castiel whipped around, frowning as a human man stood in front of him. He was tall, about the same height as Castiel, but a little broader, with dark hair and steely grey eyes and a hard jaw. There was something vaguely familiar about his presence but Castiel couldn't place him.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand…" he tried and began to step away, reaching for his blade again.

"I think you do, Castiel," the man said, advancing as Castiel retreated. "It's time for you to pay for your crimes."

"Who are you?" he started to ask when the man brought up a hand and threw something into Castiel's face. Dirt he had scooped up from the trail.

Castiel half inhaled the dirt, but the rest went into his eyes, blinding him and making him fall to his knees, eyes watering as he choked. The grip on his blade loosened as he fell.

A booted foot kicked his blade away before he could clasp it more firmly and something cold was wrapped around Castiel's neck and locked in place, sending a jolt of painful energy through his body. He gasped and clutched at the constricting band, dirt-streaked tears streaming from his red eyes as his attacker crouched in front of him and jerked his head up by a fistful of hair. He held something in his hand that Castiel couldn't quite make out with his still blurry vision.

"You may be past redemption, Castiel, but I am not. It's noting personal, brother, but I must prove myself in some way."

Castiel couldn't ask what he meant. Something was jabbed into his neck and a sudden wooziness overcame him. His world was closing in on him and with one last desperate gasp for air that was suddenly not there, his eyes rolled back in his head and he was covered up in darkness.

Castiel woke groggily. He was lying on a hard surface, his cheek pressed against something smooth and cold. He groaned, feeling unbelievably heavy and weak. He brought a hand up to his pounding head and closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened. He remembered his attempted meet-up with Lauriel and the man who had showed up instead. That was the confusing part. The man—he had been human, and yet he had called Castiel brother…

Castiel's hand went to his throat where he felt heavy, cold metal. It was a collar of some kind, and upon further exploration, he could feel something he assumed to be sigils etched into it. Likely the cause of his weakness. He could feel his grace, but it was locked down tight, rendering him practically human as if he hadn't already been weak enough as it was. His mind went to the image of Arundel's body, of the marks on his neck as if he had been wearing a collar for a prolonged period. Much like the one Castiel had on now. Unease, fear even, tightened in his stomach. It had been a trap and he had somehow managed to get caught unawares. At least Sam and Dean hadn't been with him. It could have been worse.

He looked around, finding himself to be in some nondescript room with a concrete floor. It wasn't a cage but it seemed to have a reinforced door like a prison cell. The only comfort he felt was that he was still on earth. At least he hadn't been pulled back to Heaven for more 're-education'. He groaned again and tried to sit up. That was when he realized that he didn't just feel heavy because of the sigils binding his grace; there was a physical weight on his back that he couldn't place, even though he knew he should be able to in his subconscious. He frowned, trying to maneuver himself into a position to shake off what was on top of him, but it wouldn't budge, and something tickled his side lightly, which caused him to notice for the first time that he had been stripped to the waist.

Then it occurred to him. He shot up into a sitting position, his head aching at the sudden movement and twisted his head as far back as it would go.

And there he saw black glossy feathers, arching up behind him. His breath caught in his throat as he willed the appendages to move, his wings unfurling behind him, a little tattered and singed still from his foray into Hell to rescue Dean, but completely physical.

Fear clutched his guts so violently that he nearly felt sick. He shuffled into the corner of the small room he was stuck in, breathing heavily, his wings pulled tight to his body and his arms wrapping around his updrawn knees.

This could only end badly.