Castiel gasped, his eyes widening with shock, but did not scream. He must not scream. He owed Dean that much. Cas could see the terror and emotional trauma plastered across Dean's face even though he was the one being tortured. It pained Dean to see him hurt, and then in turn pained Castiel to see Dean worried. So therefore, Castiel must not scream. He must, as Sam would put it, hang in there, or perhaps, stay strong.
The task appears tauntingly simple, a mere restriction of vocal outbursts, yet in reality, the concept is ludicrously difficult. Although to be fair, everything was harder when one was encompassed in a blinding amount of pain.
He breathed deeply, disgruntled by the fact that even the slightest of movements racked his body in fresh agony. He did not, of course, require oxygen, but he found that it helped to have a goal. In, out, in, out. Ah, how wonderful it is to have an achievable goal! So many of his other plans and efforts have worked out so poorly. In, out, in, out. Although preoccupying as it might be, breathing was hardly going to help Sam, Dean and himself escape. In, out, in, out. But for the time being, it was all he could do.
Dean gazed anxiously at Castiel, who was shaking with every breath he took. The three demons were still standing smugly behind him. His gaze shifted towards the door Crowley had exited out of.
C'mon man, think! Your best friend is being tortured, your brother is tied to a pole, an all you can do is sit here? How 'bout that glass by Sammy, huh? Then an idea popped into is head. He swiveled his legs to the right, stretching them as far as they would go and then some. He pointed his toes, and they stretched the extra inch he needed.
Okay, you've got one shot at this. Don't screw it up. He drew back his leg, and swung it forward, sending the glass soaring into Sam's bound hands.
Sam was thinking about books when he felt the cold, smooth, and sharp object collide with his open palm. He couldn't help it, it just kinda came to mind. Man, Dean would never let him live this one down if he knew. Cas was being tortured, put through Hell by the looks of it, his brother and he were tied to poles, and Sam Winchester was thinking about books. And now, instead of acting, he was thinking about thinking about books. Seriously.
His thoughts immediately returned to reality as the hope-filled item began to dig into Sam's palm, the very spot he had used as a weapon against Satan. He grasped it with skilled fingers, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He sawed slowly but efficiently at the twine that held him.
The demons' heads had turned towards them once the glass scraped across the floor on its journey to Sam's hand. They had all been watching Castiel, probably imaging his guts decorating the walls. Now, they walked cautiously towards them, wary of the boys' reputation. Sam sawed frantically at the ropes, and he saw Dean straining to break free of his with pure strength. He could feel the ropes thinning, and he attempted to muscle through the remaining strands. The demons were less than 25 ft. away now, and they were all armed with knives. All at once, he felt the ropes snap away from his flesh, and Sam sprang to his feet. His cramped legs whined in protest, and he stumbled forward looking for a weapon. Hey look, a cart filled with lethal weapons that work on demons! He ran at full sprint to the cart, which was about 35 ft. away. The demons scrambled after him, one rushing towards Dean and the remaining two running after Sam. Once they realized his destination, however, they stopped dead in their tracks.
Their eyes flitted from the cart, to the door, to Cas, and back to the cart. Sam closed his fingers around the cool metal of one sword/knife hybrid, and walked towards the hesitant demons. One demon started backing slowly towards the opposite wall, and another stayed frozen with panic before smoking out. The host screamed, then fell to the floor in a rumpled heap. The second demon apparently changed its mind, and attempted a mad dash for the door. Sam immediately raced after it, cutting it down before it reached its destination. Its eyes and mouth glowed a blinding golden light before the host crumpled to the ground.
Dean glared at the approaching demon with the best sneer he could muster. It approached slowly, unaware that Dean was struggling through his bonds that very moment. The demon continued decreasing the distance between them, seemingly unaware of the chaos happening around it. When it was mere feet away, it crouched down to Dean, positioning his face so that it was inches away from Dean's. He let his eyes switch to black. With no warning, the demon's eyes and mouth shone golden light, the host's face frozen in a look of confusion. The body crumpled to the floor, revealing Sam standing behind it with a blood soaked knife. In the same instant the host hit the floor, Dean broke free of his ropes, and brought his bruised wrists in front of his body. He stood up, rubbing the circulation back into his hands.
"Little late for the party," Sam commented gravely, wiping a droplet of blood from his face. They both hurried to Castiel, who raised his head to stare quizzically at the brothers.
"Dean…" he groaned.
"Hey Cas, it's gonna be OK. Just hang tight and we'll get you out of here," Dean replied, feverishly undoing the clasps holding his left leg and arm in place. Sam unfastened the right, and gingerly removed the pin sticking out of Cas's skull. The angel groaned, and closed his eyes as Dean removed the crown. Sam gingerly freed the blade from Castiel's shoulder, and placed that, the crown, and the pin back on the cart. Sam supported Cas as he attempted to stand, opening his eyes as he did so. He stared at Dean for a second, as if searching for words. Suddenly, his eyes fluttered and his knees buckled. Dean grabbed him by the underarms, the sudden pressure applied to his bad shoulder jerking him back into consciousness.
He gasped, and Sam gave Dean a look that clearly said 'He can't make it past Crowley'. Dean focused on Cas, and attempted to keep him awake by engaging him in conversation.
"So Cas, how do you propose we get out of here?" Apparently Cas took that as a request instead of a question. He released Dean's grasp, standing unsteadily on his own feet. He raised two fingers to both Sam and Dean's foreheads, but before he could do anything, the door flew open and Crowley stepped in. Dean and Sam heard a faint 'Bollocks' before Cas pressed down his fingers and the warehouse disappeared, replaced with the putrid green decor of a motel room.