The hotel room held an atmosphere of deathly silence as both Sam and Dean stood over Castiel, who was unconscious on the hard, moth-eaten bed. Over the course of six hours, the angel had turned ghastly white and his nails had become brittle and blackened as if a heavy force had crushed each of his saintly fingers. His hair had started to moult, the brown fibres scattered across the pillow as his skin had become taut across his bones, making both his knuckles and his cheekbones stick out unhealthily almost like an omen of death. Every time his auburn eyes glanced over Castiel, Dean grimaced, hating the way his best friend had turned from an immortal being, into something that looked sick and close to dying. It had only been six hours since the attack and Dean hadn't said a single word, not even to Sam's constant requests for something to eat. He had simply stood by the side of Castiel's bed in a trance, the role reversal of the guardian angel evident as Dean maintained the feeling of protection over the fallen angel. Sam could only do the same, yet thoughts raced throughout his mind as to what was happening to Castiel, he said that he had felt different, he didn't think that angels had feelings, or even felt pain for that matter? That's what worried Sam the most…as to whether Castiel was to become a threat for both himself and his older brother, and what would he do about it if such a thing happened.

'Sam…' Dean said suddenly, breaking the ominous silence. Sam turned and looked at him in worry: 'Yeah Dean?'

'I need some air…'

Without giving his brother time to respond, Dean snatched his jacket from the floor in which he had viciously thrown it some time ago, and exited the hotel room. Sam could only hear the sound of the Impala's engine firing up, the tyres screeching on the asphalt as his brother drove away to a destination unknown. Sam sighed, bringing a chair that stood behind him closer to the bed, allowing his tired aching body to sit down. Gazing upon the sleeping form in front of him, Sam's eyes noticed an undeniable change happening to Castiel. Even though Sam was fully detoxified from the demon blood and almost of the demon power, he could still see the real face's of demons, not from their vessels, but their internal souls…their charred, corrupted souls that held an everlasting urge for pain and chaos. And here was Castiel's – his soul slowly becoming coal black, and his once feathery white wings becoming harsh and darkening in their now sadistic colour. He was slowly becoming a demon.

'Damn it Cas…' Sam raised one hand to his head, his thumbs rubbing his now closed eyes in annoyance as he struggled to maintain a non-hunter-esque thought for Castiel, resisting the urge to grab his gun and shot the angel/demon point-blank. He had been trained to spot the emerging signs of evil…and to destroy it…why was now any different?

Sam moved from the chair instantly towards the bathroom, his face scowling at the thought. As he approached the sink, he smacked the cold tap on, allowing the water to splash over his hands before throwing the frozen water onto his face. Opening his eyes, he saw they were bloodshot, and his face was pale with anxiety as small droplets of water trickled down his skin. Sam coughed, almost trying to suppress tears as memories of himself turning into a monster invaded his brain, the way he treated his brother, the way he treated everyone…bringing upon the apocalypse…the worst times of his life. Drying his face with his sleeve, Sam proceeded to walk out of the bathroom, almost taking aback as he saw Castiel sitting on the side of the bed, his trenchcoat scrunched up underneath his legs.

'Cas?' Sam walked over towards the angel, but was stopped by Castiel's sudden gaze towards him – his eyes seeming completely black due to the lack of moonlight.

'Don't move Sam…please.' Castiel's voice seemed deeper than usual, almost unrecognisable as he held a hand out towards Sam, an indication to not come any closer.

'Okay Castiel…whatever you want. Are you feeling okay?'

Castiel's head dropped suddenly. 'I don't know how I'm feeling…'

'Well…' Sam tried to make his voice sound calm, although nerves were beginning to creep up through his vocal cords. 'Why don't you try and tell me? And then, maybe…I can help you…'

Suddenly Castiel screamed, his hands clawing at the bed-sheets as he sprang up from his seated position. He turned towards Sam, his posture completely threatening towards the younger Winchester: 'You?! You can't help me!'

Castiel began to hold his head, his teeth gritting in pain as he flung onto the floor. He thrashed violently, Sam's mouth open in shock as he witnessed Castiel's behaviour.

'Cas…Castiel…' Sam sunk down to the same level as Castiel, his hands resting on Castiel's shoulders tightly as he tried to pull the transforming angel up. 'Castiel! Listen to me, you have to get up.' Sam, using one of his arms as leverage, pushed Castiel onto his side, lifting him up as he himself rose up to a standing position. Holding Castiel in both hands, Sam tried to look into Castiel's eyes, trying to make him stand up straight, as he saw Castiel's soul completely turn black like the darkest pits of Hell. Sam tried to disregard this, as he placed his hands onto Castiel's face, trying to make Castiel look at him.

'Castiel, please open you eyes for me…'

As if in excruciating pain, Castiel began to prise open his eyelids, droplets of tears falling down his face as he squinted trying to get them completely open. Castiel felt like he was staring straight up at the sun, as his vision took in the surroundings around him, a filter of burnt redness cascading down over his eyesight, making everything absolutely unbearable to look at.

'Sam…' Castiel's hand suddenly gripped hold of Sam's arm, a certain cry for help. Sam noticed how Castiel's bruised nails had become longer and sharper, a weapon that could be used in attack. 'I can't do it…it hurts…god…it hurts!'

'You have to try…please Cas…'

Castiel obeyed. Even though it hurt him to the core, he opened his eyes wide, allowing Sam to see the full damage of the demon attack. His eyes were now longer cobalt blue…angelic and pure like an ocean wave…instead they were jet black, hard and solid.

Sam could only gasp as suddenly congealed streams of blood began to trickle from Castiel's eyes, and onto his trenchcoat, allowing the material to soak in the demonic fluid. The blood also began to escape from Castiel's nostrils and mouth, his face holding mini-waterfalls of thick, sticky life-fluid, which to Sam's own nose smelt strongly of rotten flesh.

'Sam! Please…help me!'

Sam knew…the transformation was complete.