Chapter 2

Since retaining his memories of actually being in Naomi's hands and the aftermath of Rowena's spell, Cas had a lot more knowledge of fear and how it felt. If he were to be truly honest with himself, then he would say that he was very afraid. He was afraid of what would happen to him when they reached their destination, of what their plans were for him, and he was afraid that he would not be able to get away. He'd been kidnapped and held prisoner before, of course, but those past experiences had usually been at the hands of either angels or demons. Now, he'd been kidnapped by humans and he had no idea if that was good or bad in comparison to his past experiences.

He was thankful that he still had a seraph's hearing. He could hear six heartbeats around him: all of them were elevated from adrenaline and one person had a benign heart murmur. It made an interesting counterpoint to the other heartbeats. Everyone's breathing rate was elevated as well, and with the elevated heartbeats, he could tell that they were all very, very alert and vigilant. Curious, he shifted in his seat. Immediately the heart rates and breathing increased. They were all watching him.

He wasn't sure what he thought about that.

They'd been in the van for several hours already and so far, they hadn't reached their destination. From what he could tell, they were heading in a northeastern direction. He could hear the sounds of places he'd been before with the Winchesters, and he could smell the water of Lake Michigan, but they were still several hours away from that. If he were to guess, he would say that they were headed somewhere near Chicago.

If he'd been talking with Dean or Sam, one of them might have remarked at how good he'd gotten at finding his way around compared to his early days. He'd been able to travel instantly anywhere, but he really didn't know where he was or where he was going until after he'd been there. Now, he knew where things were located and their general direction, thanks to studying maps at the Gas n' Sip and an atlas he'd found in the library at the bunker. It had been an unconventional education in geography, to be sure, but it had come in handy.

"I forgot to ask, do angels need to use the toilet?"

The woman's voice brought him out of his thoughts with a bump. "No."

"Ever?"

He wasn't going to go into details, and definitely not with her. "No."

"What about eating and drinking?"

"No." Although, if he'd been able to taste it properly, he would have asked for a PB and J to soothe his nerves.

"Ooookaaay," she drawled. "Out of curiosity, do you sleep?"

Cas thought about the times he'd let his mind drift and let himself 'zone out,' as Dean would call it. He did not do it often, but it let his mind rest when he needed to relax. "Not exactly."

He felt the interest surrounding him shift and sharpen. They were all listening.

"What do you mean?" the woman asked. "If you don't sleep, what do you do?"

"I do rest," he said, thinking about the times when he'd lose himself in daydreams and his own thoughts. It wasn't necessary for him to do that, but it was nice. In the days ahead, he might need to do it regularly just to keep himself calm. "But it's not what you'd recognize as sleep. I'll sit somewhere quietly, I won't speak, and my eyes won't focus on anything in particular. That's how I rest." If she was taking notes on him for later, he was pleased to be able to give her this little bit of misinformation now.

"Interesting," she said. He heard the rustle of paper and the scratch of a pen. The humor of the situation was not lost on him. "Do you dream?"

"Nothing like what you would recognize as dreams," he admitted. He knew how humans experienced daydreams-he'd had them himself while he'd been human-but he doubted they would understand how angels experienced them. "My dreams would be…hmm."

A sudden inspiration hit him then. Like all angels, truth was a part of his core, which made lies he'd heard from his brothers and sisters all the more painful to hear. Even avoiding certain truths was painful for him to bear. It was difficult for him to lie since lies went against his very nature, which was probably why Dean said he was a terrible liar. Still, he'd been able to keep his activities with Crowley hidden, even from Dean and Sam. He'd been able to keep other things hidden as well. If his actions in the past were any indication, then he could lie.

"What are your dreams like?" the woman prompted.

"They consist mostly of the voice of my father," he said at last. Let her chew on that for a while.

"What does he say?"

He didn't expect that. What to do? Then, inspiration struck, since it really wasn't her business. "That's between us, not you."

"I see."

He doubted she did, but oh, well. "Out of curiosity, where are we going?"

"Why not let it be a wonderful surprise?"

How was he to answer that? "I'm just wondering if I have time to rest."

"How long does that take?"

"It varies," he said truthfully. "Sometimes it takes a few minutes, other times it takes days."

Silence. Oh, how he wished he could see their faces!

"We have some time before we get there," she said, dashing Cas' hopes of a time estimate. "Will you wake up on your own once you've finished?"

"Yes." So saying, he leaned back in his seat and slowed his breathing. A moment later, he was perfectly still.

"Do you think he's asleep?"

The whispered comment would have made Sam and Dean crack up.

"Do you think any of us could tell, Riley?" she whispered back. "Just...be quiet and let him be."

Time passed. Dean would have turned on a radio and started singing along with the lyrics. These people, though, seemed content just to sit and listen to music. None of them spoke for the longest time, and then, "Is he still breathing?"

"I think so." The lightest of touches on his chest. "Yeah, he's breathing."

"I've never seen anyone be so still before, even asleep," Riley said after a moment. "Do you think he can hear us?"

"If he can, he must be amused as all get-out," she muttered. A pause. "I wonder if he's dreaming."

"Do you think...based on what he said before...do you think God is talking to him?"

Silence as everyone pondered the question.

"I hope not," the woman stated. "That's too BIG, you know?"

"Kristi, we're already in BIG," Riley reminded her. "We kidnapped a freakin' angel, you know? God could have smited us, or something."

"Isn't it smote?" someone chimed in.

"Huh?"

"Smote, past tense of smite?"

"Dude, you're worrying about something like that now?" The disbelief was practically dripping from Riley's voice.

"Guys, shut up, you're going to wake him up," Kristi hissed.

Silence fell again, leaving Castiel to his own thoughts. He wished, with all his being, that his father would step in and do something to help him. His father had always been distant, but when he'd been young he'd never doubted his father's love for each and every one of his children. Even the light that his father emitted just by being let him know with every breath he took that he was loved. When he'd searched for his father, during all the chaos of the civil war in Heaven and everything else, he'd never doubted that love. God had been gone for the past few years-no one knew where-and all of them were missing him. If only...no, best not to think like that. He would only make himself sad.

The best and strongest memory he had of his father was the memory of his birth. There had been nothing, and then there had been a glorious consciousness of overwhelming love. There was warmth and light and glorious beauty all around him, and then he felt the very solid presence of two arms encircling him. "Hello, Castiel. Hello, son. Welcome." With those words, purpose settled in him, and the arms had held him close long enough for him to receive a kiss on his forehead, and then he was passed to the arms of an older brother, who would care for him and teach him until he was older. During the scores of years that it had taken for him to grow, he'd been trained to God's service-to protect and shepherd humans and to fight if necessary to protect Heaven and God's creations.

That brought forward another memory. The first time he'd seen humans. It had been eons after he'd seen that first fish stumble up onto the sand, and his father had called all of them to see his latest creation. They'd been formed from the earth itself, but they'd been given enough of their father's grace to be...well, human. He'd stared down at the sleeping man and woman and saw beauty. He'd dared enough to ask his father a question. "Father, what are they called?"

That beloved countenance regarded him warmly, and a hand reached out to caress his hair. "They are 'human,' Castiel. It will be up to all of my children to protect and guide them. You, as well. Will you do this for me?"

His answer had been "Yes." He'd been amazed that his father had felt the need to ask, but Lucifer's actions had given Castiel the reason why he'd asked. God had become more serious after Lucifer had been locked away, and more distant, but the love Castiel felt for him had never waned. It was still strong now, even though sometimes it hurt. Once he'd heard Sam say that you always loved people even when it hurt to do so, and Castiel supposed that that was true for humans and angels.

"Do you think he's dreaming? His wings are twitching."

"Maybe he's dreaming of flying. Wouldn't surprise me."

"He said his dreams don't work like that."

"What if the Big Guy is talking to him?"

If only, Castiel thought. He wished he could go home to the bunker. If he were home, he would probably be watching Netflix with Sam and Dean, or debating some obscure bit of information in the library, or working out with Sam. That had been a recent development. Sam had wanted to change up his workouts and Castiel had offered to teach him some of the same fighting that he'd been taught. Sam had leaped on the chance and even Dean would set aside what he was doing to watch to the two of them spar.

"Guys, could we please drop the subject? And remember to stay quiet or you'll wake him up!"

He didn't know what prompted him to do it, but he stretched and flexed his wings before giving a deep sigh. He startled himself because the chains on his wrists pulled and his whole body jerked. He was now "awake." "Hmmm?" He paused. "Oh. Right. I've been kidnapped."

"Ladies and gentlemen, the world's calmest kidnapping victim," Kristi stated dryly. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmmnnn. Where are we?"

"That's a secret. You don't sound too awake."

"I woke up suddenly. Takes me a moment." Let them think he had trouble waking up. That might help him later. "Are we there yet?"

Silence, and then the sound of choked off laughter. Then, they were all laughing. "Um, what did I say that's so funny?"

"That's a classic question for a car trip," Kristi said. "People have said it so often that it's become a joke. The answer is no, but we'll be there soon."

"How soon? And how long have we been traveling, anyway?" They hadn't stopped once during all those hours.

"Soon," Kristi told him. "Do you need a pit stop?"

He couldn't resist. He knew what a 'pit stop' was due to his long association with Sam and Dean and Metatron's gift of popular culture, but he just wanted to mess with them a little. "Why would we stop in a pit? Wouldn't it be hard to get out?"

Every single one of them cracked up. He could hear the driver pounding the wheel and the high breathless laughter of Kristi. Finally, she calmed down long enough to take a breath and talk. "Oh, man!" she howled. "Oh, man, I hope we get to take more road trips with you in the future! You're a riot!"

"Call the warden, man, we got a riot on our hands!" Riley shouted, making all of them crack up again.

She calmed down enough to explain, and an idea occurred to him as soon as she'd finished. "It would be nice to stand up and walk a little bit."

"Okay. We'll stop in a few minutes."

Ten minutes later they stopped. The doors of the van opened and Castiel felt fresh air wash over him. Someone unfastened his seatbelt and carefully he got to his feet and stepped down to the ground. He reached for the blindfold but hands stopped him. "Leave that on."

"Why?"

"Just leave it on."

Castiel left it on and let them lead him in a walk around the van. Once, twice. On the third trip, he stopped, bent his knees, and with two blows, his guards were down. One slammed into the side of the van and the other he heard land on the other side of the road. Two of the other men, who'd gone into the trees Castiel could sense nearby, cursed and started toward them. Before they could even lift their feet, Castiel had the blindfold off and his wings up, and then he was in the air. He couldn't "zap" while bound, but he could very well fly!

A spoken word from Kristi, and he slammed into the ground with enough force that he made a crater. His entire body ached so much that he heard a gasp of pain escape him. Slowly, carefully, he sat up, his body screaming at him the whole way.

"You're in a lot of trouble, young man," Kristi growled. "You just wait until we tell Central about this."

Castiel glared at her, the pain making his mood absolutely foul. "Bite me."

Riley and the other men exchanged glances. "How does an angel know that?"

"It's the company I keep," Castiel snapped as Riley and the other men got him to his feet. He glared at Kristi until they put the blindfold back on him and bundled him back into the van.

"Kristi, how are we going to explain the condition of this van to Central?" The two men Castiel had hit had managed to pick themselves up. They weren't injured, but they would definitely be bruised and sore. The one who'd hit the van had taken one look at the damage his body had caused and asked the question.

"We'll tell them that our little angel had a temper tantrum," she muttered.

"It wasn't a temper tantrum, it was an escape attempt," Castiel muttered. "Or are you so hopeless that you failed to see it?"

"The snark is strong with this one." Riley intoned.

"Shut up, Riley! And you, you nightmare in a trench coat, you stay quiet, or I'll gag you."

Castiel was quiet. Then, one of the other men spoke up. "Kristi, I think you hurt his feelings."

It was their turn to be confused. He laughed a good five minutes, and then refused to tell them what was so funny. Sam, Dean, and Bobby would have known, though.

Sam had heard his brother curse before. If things went really, really wrong in a short time, then Sam could count on hearing an entire litany of curses before Dean calmed down. That was why he was so surprised to wake up and hear...nothing. He stretched and winced at the taste in his mouth. Whatever they'd been injected with had kept them asleep for a good long time. "Dean? You awake?"

"Yeah."

Sam fought his eyes open and spotted his brother. "Oh, good. You okay? What do you think they gave us?"

"I don't care what they gave us," Dean said flatly, reaching down to help Sam to his feet. "That's not important. We've got to find Cas."

Outside the barn, it was broad daylight, probably about noon or so. The bright sunlight made them both wince as their heads started pounding.

"Damn," Sam gasped as they slipped into the car. Immediately he rummaged in the glove compartment for their sunglasses. "Head hurt?"

"Like a bitch," Dean said, dropping into the driver's seat and taking the sunglasses that his brother handed him. "Let's go find some coffee somewhere and then get home. We gotta figure out where they took Cas and then figure out how to get him back."

They stopped only long enough to get some breakfast and two very large coffees from a drive-thru window, and then they headed straight for the bunker. Once there, they found some medicine for their headaches and dove into the Men of Letters' files.

"So what are you thinking?" Sam asked.

"They said 'Central' last night," Dean said, flipping through a file folder. "That reminds me of something I saw in the files here."

"Can you remember which file?" Sam asked as Dean closed the file and replaced it in the cabinet.

"Not of the top of my head, but I'm going to look until I find it."

"Which files are you looking for?"

"The ones about other groups that focused on the supernatural. The Men of Letters kept files on all of them. One day I was bored, so I started looking through all of these. One of those groups called itself the Central Institute for Parapsychic and Paranormal Research. I've got a strong hunch that they're the ones who took Castiel."

"And you read the whole file?" Sam asked, intrigued.

"Yep," Dean admitted. At Sam's surprised look, he shrugged. "What? I was bored."

It took several hours, but they finally located the right file.

"Got it! Here it is!" Dean flipped open the file and began to read. "Looks like the Men of Letters gave them a status of 'keep on watch,' meaning that they kept their eyes on this group. They kept a timeline of this group's activity, and they were not above theft or kidnapping, it seems. A powerful psychic came to the group's attention back in 1925 and when he declined to work for them, he disappeared. The Men of Letters weren't able to figure out what had happened to him until nine years later, when they came across the man by accident. He was with two men and he recognized the Men of Letters for what they were and he begged them to help him. They were able to get him away from his guards and relocate him somewhere safe."

"Okay, that's the kidnapping. What about the theft?"

Dean turned pages. "A lot of artifacts from museums and rare books from libraries. Hmmm. This is interesting."

Sam reached the for the file. "What?" Then he saw what his brother had commented on. "Oh. A book on angels?"

"A very rare and extremely old book on angels from the early days of the Christianity," Dean read. "Only one copy was known to exist, and it was stolen from the archive that had it."

Sam opened his laptop and Googled the book. "Yeah, here it is. Vita Angelorum, no author listed. It's actually a papyrus codex, which was common back then." He stopped and scrolled through more of the article he'd found. "Interesting. It's written in three languages, kind of like a Rosetta Stone."

"Okay," Dean said, dropping into a chair next to his brother. "Which languages?"

"Aramaic, Latin, and one that has not been deciphered. When people first sat down to translate the book, each text read something different. The Aramaic read like the Creation story from Genesis, except there was a lot more detail. The Latin was a description of Heaven and the final line in that section refers to the next, stating, Now I shall tell you of the mission of the angels, the same words as spoken by God. After that, no one's been able to translate it."

"They didn't happen to Xerox the thing, did they?"

Sam checked. "Even better. They took photos." So saying, Sam clicked on one of the thumbnails from the book. "Oooohhh, damn. What does that look like to you?"

Dean looked and cursed under his breath. "Enochian. I wonder if these Central people know they've got a book that could be read by an angel."

"Let's hope they don't put one book and one angel together," Sam said hopefully. "Any information in that file as to where they might be located?"

Dean grabbed the file and looked through it. "The closest they could figure was somewhere around Lake Michigan."

"Great," Sam sighed. "That's only a couple hundred square miles, right?"

"If only we could talk to Cas for just five seconds…" Dean complained. "Wait a minute. Oh, I'm an idiot! His cell phone!"

Sam brought up the GPS as soon as Dean finished his sentence. "I'm just as big an idiot, so blame it on whatever drug they gave us. Wait! I've got him!"

"Where?!"

Sam put the coordinates into his computer. "Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore!" Sam checked the time and date on his computer. "They got there fast, too. How did they do that?"

"Who cares?" Dean asked, running down the hall.

"Where are you going?" Sam shouted after him.

"We need all the weapons in the armory! We're going to rescue Cas!"

Castiel was sure that they'd broken either speed limits or the sound barrier for how fast they'd traveled. Either those two options, or a spell. He heard Kristi mutter something, smelled something burning, and then there was a jolt that made him and everyone else groan.

"I hate it when you do that," one of the guards complained.

"It was taking too long, and I want to be there," she snapped. "Quit bellyaching."

"Remember that one time you almost caused an accident?"

"No."

"We sure do."

"Do you want to walk the rest of the way?"

Castiel couldn't resist. "Yes, if you're going to keep bickering."

He could practically feel the glare he was getting from Kristi. "Keep it up, feathers." Fortunately, though, they all shut up.

Fifteen minutes after that, the road under the car changed. Their speed decreased, and then there were a few turns, another change, and another decrease. Then, the air pressure around them changed as the car headed down a slope and inside somewhere.

"Okay, everybody out," Kristi said as the car stopped and the engine cut off.

Castiel was helped out of the van by his guards and marched through what sounded like a garage. It had the same acoustics as the garage at the bunker and even the same smell. He was led up some stairs and outside. The scent of water and sand hit him and the night air caressed his face. "Where are we going?"

"Almost there," Kristi told him.

That was when Castiel heard the helicopter. It wasn't close yet, but it was getting closer. Yes, now it was close enough for the humans to hear it. "Please tell me that we're not going in that."

Kristi chuckled under her breath. "An angel afraid to fly?"

He'd been thinking more along the lines of Sam and Dean being able to find him. A helicopter ride might make his trail go cold. Also Dean was afraid to fly. It might not occur to him that a kidnapping that began by car could end by helicopter. "I've never ridden in one before."

"Don't worry; we won't let you fall out," Kristi teased. "As long as you're good, at least. Besides, you've got wings."

The helicopter landed and they led him forward. Hands pushed down on his head so he would move toward it bent forward and then they helped him up into the copter. Hands maneuvered him into a seat and strapped him in, the others took their seats, and then they lifted off.

The roar was deafening and he nearly throttled himself on the stupid chain binding his wrists when he tried to lift his hands to cover his ears. Why were the sides to such a craft open? He was ready to start complaining of pain when someone took pity on him and placed headphones over his ears. They deadened the sound by a fair margin and he was able to relax a bit.

The ride lasted thirty minutes or so and then the helicopter began its descent. Slowly they dropped down toward the surface of the lake...no, there was something else there. He felt the helicopter touch down, the engine cut off, and the rotors slowed.

"At last," Kristi groaned. "I can't wait for a hot shower, some tea, and my bed."

"We have to report in first," Riley said.

"I know; I meant after that," Kristi answered. "Let's go."

Cas was unbelted, helped to his feet, and helped out of the helicopter. He was led away from the helicopter, across an asphalt surface, and into a building.

"Kristi! There's my girl! Ah, well done!"

"Are we there now?" Castiel demanded while the new man who'd spoken approached them. "Could you take off this blindfold?"

"Sure," Riley said, and Castiel felt fingers at the back of his head. "Hold still."

The blindfold was removed and Cas opened his eyes in time to see Kristi jump into the arms of an older man, who hugged her and swung her around. "How did it go, kitten?"

"A few minor hiccups, but you can see we got him!" Kristi said happily. "Come see!"

The awe on the man's face was a surprise. He'd expected everyone at their destination to be as supercilious as Kristi, but instead, this man looked positively delighted to be meeting Castiel.

"Hello there," he said, stepping close to Cas. "I'm so happy to meet you! Did you have a good journey?"

Cas stared at him. "Are you unaware that I've been kidnapped?" To illustrate the point, he held up his bound hands.

"No, no, I'm quite aware," he said. "I ordered you to be kidnapped."

Cas stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"I ordered it," the man repeated. "Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. I'm Oswald Thompson, and I'm the present director for Central. I ordered you to be brought here."

"Why?"

"You're the only angel we know of in existence on Earth right now," he said with a smile. "We devote ourselves to studying the supernatural and paranormal and you are both in flesh and blood. We owe it to humanity to find out all we can about you."

"And for such a goal you needed to kidnap me?"

"Would you have come if we'd issued you an invitation?"

Castiel glared at him. "No."

"Sorry?"

"I said, NO. I'm not going to stay here just so you can study me. I refuse."

Kristi smirked at him. "It's not like you have much choice, Cas."

Oswald looked at her. "Cas?"

"It's what those guys called him. Nickname. They said that humans can't say his real name because we don't have the right voicebox or something."

Oswald looked intrigued. "Really?"

Cas kept glaring. He could tell that Oswald wanted him to explain further, but he wasn't about to. "Take these chains off and the manacles. I'm going."

"You're welcome to try getting loose on your own, Mister Cas, if you like. Once you figure out how to do that, you're free to go."

Cas looked down at the chains. They were coated with holy oil and carved with Enochian sigils for binding. With those sigils, only the person who'd put them on could take them off. "You already know I can't."

"Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?"

The man was almost a match for Crowley for pure snark. "Do you really want to risk keeping me prisoner?"

"You don't seem much of a threat. Chained up like that, you look like a little bird waiting for a nest," Oswald told him before reaching out to stroke Castiel's left wing.

The touch reverberated through him and left his wings twitching. Castiel hissed and jerked away, pulling his wings in tight around his body. "Never do that again, or I swear to my father that I'll smite you."

Oswald looked him up and down. "Interesting. Let's get you settled in, shall we?"

The simple suggestion sounded like a threat.