"It melted my damn seats!" Dean yells, frantically attempting to brush off the purple liquid from the leather. Hissing every time he even makes the slightest skin contact with the so-called blood. Sam can almost hear the sizzle of flesh each time, sending shivers down his spine.

Dean runs his hand over the acid-like compound again, attempting to remove it with the sleeve of his jacket but failing horribly. "Ow! Son of a bitch!"

Sam rolls his eyes, giving a quiet sigh under his breath as he searches for onlookers from the Motel. Considering it's the dead of night he's almost certain that there shouldn't be any. Maybe a few night owls but if there are they haven't shown their presence. Then again, the ones that are probably up are too hammered to notice the body in-between an Impala, a giant and what would appear to be a Jetta.

Dean's still hissing and cussing when he notices their new addition twitch. Jingling the wonderfully enchanted chains that encase them. "Dean," Sam mutters quietly.

The elder looks over his shoulder exaggerated frown ever-present as he looks down at the thing. Shaking his lightly burnt hand like a cat that accidentally dipped its paw in water. "Right, flyboy." Dean takes a moment to glance around for onlookers and edges around the car, snatching the tarp left discarded on top of the trunk. Sam lets the thought trickle away on how many bodies they've wrapped that thing with as Dean fans the plastic cover over the man. He'll pity the poor guy later.

Once their body looks decidedly less like a body Sam carefully hefts the now 'old tent' over his shoulder. Wincing when a piece of what he'd assume is bone hit's his shoulder, he readjusts accordingly. Earning him only a soft groan from under the heavy 'tent'. He has to shuffle the guy around a little, to actually get a good grip on the lanky thing. The wings don't help too much either.

Dean's already setting up the Demon trap with chalk on the floor when he maneuvers Starscream in. Hefting him down onto and arranging the man into a sitting position with practiced ease, folding legs under torso and maneuvering him to where the chains hold his body up accordingly. He looks like a sacrifice but… maybe he'll come out of this unscathed… him and Dean as well. Ripping off a piece of duct tape with an automated like response he puts it over the creature's mouth. Wouldn't want to wake the neighbors. Dean only gives him a smirk and finishes the circle. Adding minor angel wards here and there, Sam would imagine it will lead to having Cas give them a visit after about an hour or so. For an off standing angel, he's a bit clingy, oddly enough.

"Alright, now we just gotta wait for him to wake up, figure out what he is, then figure out how to kill him." The amount of enthusiasm, however diluted, is still disturbing.

"And if it's an angel?"

Dean takes a second to answer, opening and closing his jaw, perhaps testing the words. "Well, uh, then it's more of a catch and release project don'tcha think."

He raises an eyebrow but nods, huffing, "Yeah, I think."

Dean decides to cut the conversation there as he shrugs off his jacket, fiddling momentarily with the pockets to remove an angel blade and the demon knife. Only pausing to grapple for something else in his jacket. Giving a snort when he retrieves the smaller pocket knife. Sam assumes that it's probably made of iron, have to be prepared.

…

Can't fly you'll die! Can't fly you'll die! Can't fly you'll die! Starscream growls at the sound of Skywarp's voice singing that mantra over and over. Openly mocking the ground troops that would make way for the fliers to bombard the next wave of ground pounders. It's unfortunate that it's true as well. Considering his current missing organ and the new found predicament he'd assume that the purple seeker will be mocking him soon enough. Even better, gutting him in his arrival to the Allspark. If Skywarp ever ended up there, that is.

Although, when Starscream opens his 'optics' the world he sees isn't what he was expecting. He's staring at a fuzzy floor, marked with white patterns, in a dimly lit area. The so-called seeker gives a mild shake, his body feels odd. It's cold but not in the way it should be, his hands and arms feel right as do his legs but not… not the rest. His wings feel stiff but they also feel folded almost, albeit not unnaturally but perhaps… an anesthetic has yet to wear off. Starscream cringes to see what Silas may have done to him.

But, hadn't he escaped? Yes… and when he jumped to get through the ground bridge… he ended up… somewhere. It was blank after that. Moving his head to the side he feels something grind as he tries to lift it. Stiff, from lack of use perhaps? How long had he been out? Starscream pulls his body up and freezes. There's something around his neck, his wrists are bound as are his undoubtedly damaged wings. Then… then he realizes the room that's so foreign to his eyes. And realizes that he can't scream.

Before him are two humans, staring at him with their cold black eyes, one taller than the other. Vaguely he remembers them from somewhere but at the moment that isn't what really matters. He feels his wings move outward in instinct but is more than panicked when they're caught. So, he does what any caged animal would do, he thrashes.

Extending his wings as far as they will go he moves them frantically, testing the cuffs with tough yanks and pulls. He feels small, he feels wrong, what have they done!?

Starscream's aware of when he starts making pitiful noises behind whatever it is that they've covered his mouth with but at the moment he can't care less. Then, Primus blesses him, a link to whatever device they'd concocted snaps and his wrists are free from behind his back. Both of the humans jump at the noise, drawing a gun and knife at the sound. Starscream smirks from behind the duct tape, swinging his only weapons around to the front. He reaches to free his legs when he pauses, stopping dead. They aren't his.

Knee down they're familiar but not quite right, but above, the black, flimsy leg isn't. It's near flesh and he slowly looks at his hands and arms. Servos are very familiar, in fact nearly his own talons but as the elbow joint begins it shows the white flesh reveal itself. Ebbing into a torso that is weak and permeable. He touches his neck for confirmation and notes the collar that contains him. He can feel bits of mesh but mostly all he can feel is the fragile meat these creatures inhabit.

He'll have to murder Silas if it's the last thing he does.

As metal claws brush over what he believes these creatures call fur or… something. He looks at the beings that still hold him at gunpoint. Both appearing to be confused by his sudden epiphany. The shorter one giving him one of the strangest looks he's ever seen while the taller evaluates him like Shockwave would a new creation. Carefully but curiously. Starscream reaches for the edge of his vocal hindrance and removes it. Wincing at the slight pain that follows but presses on.

Lacking anything to really say the former seeker gives a short-nervous laugh. Panic still not leaving his psyche, scheming ever-present "I would guess that a release cannot be arranged?"

Dean lowers his knife and gun, striding towards the man, Starscream flinches away but only finds a wall as the blade cuts open his exposed collarbone. The screech that escapes his throat is undignified but it quickly turns into a snarl as he swipes at Dean's pant leg. "You dare!"

Dean snorts, "Yeah, yeah calm down flyboy." Starscream only gives a low growl in return, scratching at the carpet like a cat sharpening its claws. "Alright, so, not a demon. Congrats, so what are you?"

Sam could have sworn he saw Satan flash in the creature's eyes and he would know. "I'm one of you pathetic humans at the current moment. As if you wouldn't know, now tell me, where's Silas?"

The elder raises a brow, "Silas?"

"Don't play coy, you work for him!"

"Pal, I don't, I don't even work for myself."

The snarl escaping Starscream's throat sounds horrid, "Then why pray tell am I here?"

Sam steps in before Dean can make a snarky remark. "We found you in a lake in Maine. You'd busted your head and we offered to clean it up and-"

"-you jump started my car." Dean remarks, "After you fried the crap out of her solenoid."

Sam grits his teeth, silently agreeing with the statement. Starscream stares up at the two, eyebrow raised in a skeptical manner. Carefully, he reaches to the side of his head, noting the shorter fur there and feeling along the stitched wound. Cringing at the thought of flesh being crudely pulled together with thread. Then again, welds, in a way, aren't that different. Removing his one of few Cybertronian bits from the disgusting injury he feels his wings finally fold down. He's almost afraid to look at them. "Then it would appear I am at your mercy."

Dean gives a short laugh and shakes his head, crossing his arms at the thought. "Why can't everything just give up that easily?"

Sam ignores him, "So, what are you exactly?"

Starscream raises his hand, admiring the lack of change to its exterior, mulling the question over. "A Seeker."

The puzzled look that comes across Sam's face is the only thing that follows before the door is promptly pounded on. A voice on the other side muttering in a low monotone, "Dean, Sam, why can't I come in?"

The one Starscream would assume is Dean runs a hand down his face, walking to the door to reveal, surprise, another flesh bag. Although, this one appears…different. Even with what the former seeker would guess is a half-mechanical eye he can see the field surrounding this man. It's bright, nearly blinding in fact, and almost fear-inducing, not to mention the bird-like wings that fold so close to his body. Yet, Starscream can't help but feel the calm that comes with it. The man looks at Dean and Sam before stopping his ice-like gaze on him. His lips part, despite no words falling from them.

"Dean," he starts, "why do you have a god killer in your room?"

Sam's eyes shoot over to Castiel, "A what?"

Starscream only smirks.