Author's Notes:

Tears of an Angel

Chapter Two

Part 1. Castiel

The tears ended when the demon punched me hard in the temple, knocking me out. When I awoke, I was somewhere else, a dark place, probably a basement somewhere. My hands were in handcuffs meant to hold angels, complete overkill in my weakened human state, but no demons needed to know that.

There was laughter and great mirth behind me. The demon who had killed the love of my life and angel-napped me emerged into my line of view. "Nice meat suit, dude."

There were more demons behind me, I estimated two by the sound of their voices. I didn't care that they were laughing at me, and at the time I was oblivious to the fact that their teasingz was due to the work uniform I still wore. My vision was blurry and my head hung low, probably as much from the grief as the blow to my head.

A part of me wished they would just kill me quickly so I could join my Nora in heaven. I knew she'd be there. But I also knew the demons wouldn't spare me that easily.

The demon lifted my head. "My name's Amon. I doubt you'd remember my brother, since he meant so little to you. About a year ago, we found the body he possessed, tortured and killed. I later found out it was you who did it."

I didn't care, but I answered reflexively. "Yes, the demon who took over Wendy. I remember now. I didn't mean to be so violent, I was programmed by the home office."

Amon slammed his fist into my face. I'm not going to lie, it hurt. But I was so numb that I only let loose a small grunt.

Then he pummeled my body with demonic hands as he said, "What am I going to do with you? Beat you to death?" He stopped. I panted. "No, I don't think that would be satisfying enough."

Amon circled me. "You see, my brother and I died together. We went through the trials of Hell together, got tortured together. Then we worked our way up to demons by torturing others together. If it wasn't for him, I might never have made it. I'd still be down there."

I raised my weary head just long enough to say, "I didn't know demons could be sentimental."

He laughed. "Apparently you've never met Crowley. He has his…pets." He continued to circle me, then halted. "Wait. I have the perfect idea."

Standing before me, he whipped out a knife. I braced myself for the worst, but instead of carving up my flesh, he cut a slit into his own arm, until it dripped with blood. Looking at one of the demons behind me, he said, "Hold his head back."

A hand yanked my head back by a tuft of my hair from behind. Amon glanced at the other demon. "Open his mouth."

I sat up straight now, realizing what he was trying to do. "No!"

But against my tensed muscles, the demon hands pried my jaws apart like they were nothing at all. And then Amon dripped his blood into my mouth, and stroked my throat until I was forced to swallow.

Once he was content that I had taken in enough blood, he let my head go, and I sputtered, "What have you done?"

The demon's blood surged through my veins, and I could feel myself light up red as it spread throughout my body. And then I was more than human again, in a different way, of course.

The demons cackled with glee. "Look! The angel's a demon now."

But they had no idea the true effects of their actions. I spit remnants of blood mixed with saliva in Amon's face, and he tried to strike me. But he hadn't anticipated that the demon blood I swallowed would give me a newfound power and allow me to bust through the angel handcuffs. I yanked my arm away from the chair just in time to block his blow. And then I struck him with an undercut from my free hand.

Moving like an animal, I stood and grabbed his knife and shoved it into his chest, lighting him up until he was gone. Then I spun on my heels and stabbed the other two demons before they even knew what hit them. And for some reason that I couldn't figure out at the time, it felt good. Like really good—like sex and chocolate good. That fact was troubling.

Over the next several weeks, I went on a…a spree of sorts. As hungry as I was to exact revenge on every demon I had ever met, and some I never had, I was even more hungry for their blood. It wasn't just that it gave me the power I missed having once I lost my angel-hood. No, it had more to do with the fact that the high wiped out the emotional pain I had when Nora was taken from me, ripped from my hands at the peak of our love addiction. I didn't forget about her—how could I? But I no longer felt as if my heart was being ripped from my chest, and that was a blessing.

I would pay for that delay of grief later, in a big way.

After I would rip an unsuspecting demon to bits so I could feast on his valuable juices, I would no longer feel like eating or sleeping or emoting or doing anything remotely human. I knew it was eating at my soul. Demon blood and angel bodies don't mix well, there would surely be consequences.

Part 2. Dean

I worried about Sam the most, of course. He had no idea an angel had hitchhiked a ride in his body. But he needed some angel juice inside him to heal again, and so I swallowed my guilt and kept the secret from him.

But as much as I worried about him, I worried about Cass too. Especially since I caught wind of a slaughter to rival one of Charles Manson's in the store where he worked. And then, when I went to check it out, he was just gone with the wind, and I feared the worst.

We did our tracking, and between asking Sam how he was feeling every five minutes, I managed to catch a lead. There were no signs pointing directly to Cass, of course—he didn't leave behind any feathers or halo dust.

But my spidey senses went off in a big way, and Sam confirmed it. In the basement of an abandoned insane asylum, we stood in our suits and flashed our badges. Our usual routine. And then we looked for signs of our angel friend.

There were handcuffs, and there were three demon bodies that looked like they had been offed by other demons, and I knew Cass have been there. But why did it look like demons had finished the job? Had Crowley saved Cass? And why?

Over the next few weeks, we tracked down unusual activity, but it was always demon related. As in, dead demons, always mutilated in various ways. Some of them were ripped to shreds. This couldn't be the work of Cass—even assuming he would do such a thing, he didn't have the mojo.

We found a town that had a history of demons. Place was crawling. Every one of them was a doorknob before we got our hands on them. Lucky for them, but not so lucky for two guys looking for their celestial besty.

One night we got called by the sheriff out to a warehouse that was littered with the things. Somebody was obviously doing our job for us, and it wasn't another hunter. Or an angel. We came back later that night after the badges had abandoned the job. They had left the mess behind, until tomorrow. Short-staffed or some shit.

We went from one body to another, scattered throughout the place. We decided to split up to make the job faster—there was a lot to cover. I wandered into a break room that was torn apart. I mean, blood coating the walls like someone had painted the room with it. There was a body on the floor, something moving on top of it. And then I saw something I would never have believed if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.

Castiel was leaning over the dead demon, sucking down blood from a gaping wound like he was a damn vampire or something. Had he been turned? Impossible.

He straightened, probably caught my scent before I even entered the room. Without turning his head, he spoke in a voice even lower and coarser than usual. "Dean, don't even try to stop me."

I unsheathed my angel knife, regardless. Couldn't be too cautious, even with a divine BFF, when he was in this kind of state. "Cass," I said gently, to let him know I wasn't trying to threaten him. "What happened to you?"

He stood, looking down at his kill longingly. And then he slowly turned, and I knew something was really wrong, besides the obvious. Sam must have heard our voices, because I now felt him breathing behind me. I was glad to have back-up. Cass was messed up, that was for sure.

I studied him from head to foot. At least he'd found a coat like his old one—he was now back to his good ol' Columbo costume. But he was covered from top to bottom in blood, and his eyes—well, let's just say he could have passed for one of Satan's minions himself with the hatred that spilled out of them. I was starting to wonder if I needed the demon blade instead.

His voice husky and low through clenched teeth, he said, "Just step out of my way, guys, and everything will be fine."

Sam, beside me now, whispered, "Demon blood. Remember how bad it fucked me up?"

So with both hands out in front of me, one holding the angel blade and the other open, I said, "Cass, let's just talk about this. I know you're on a blood binge, but maybe we could just go back to HQ, get a cup of coffee, sober up a little, huh?"

The guy literally growled at me. Like a dog. Or that really vicious werewolf I ganked outside Cincinnati a few weeks ago. He bellowed, "I said, BACK OFF!" The words roared so loud that I nearly fell over backwards.

When neither me or Sam moved, Cass leapt off the spot where he was standing next to the dead demon and onto me, sending a punch to my face mid-air that brought me to the ground. And I guess Sam must have hesitated, because he was soon on the floor with me. I don't blame him for holding back and getting jumped. This was Cass we were talking about, not just some asshat.

But there must have been some angel blood still left inside Cass, because that was the extent of the damage to us, and then he was in the wind.