Castiel coughed once, eyebrows twitching in a wince, before licking his lips and clearing his throat.

"They got him Dean-"

"Who got him?"

"I don't know – I was trapped in holy fire. Something fell on me, and when I got up, there were dark figures stabbing me with pikes from outside the ring of fire. I think I passed out after about an hour." He coughed again, blood blooming across his teeth, Dean handed him a glass of water, a silent encouragement to continue. Cas sipped the water, cleared his throat and tried again.

"When I woke up the fire was out – my vessel was broken, so I walked until I fell down outside." Cas took a deep breath and stared at dean from under his lashes. "I don't know where they took Sam."

Deans face turned as hard as marble, his jaw clenched and his eyes became shards of green crystal.

"What were you doing outside anyway? We only just got back this morning." His voice was deep, angry, and Cas knew he was using all his strength to stay calm.

"Sam wanted to go for a run – I was heading out to be on my way back to the highway, so I offered to join him. We couldn't have been more than a mile down the road when we were attacked. They were all dressed in black, but they were human shaped." He grimaced in pain, then closed his eyes to begin using his grace to heal himself.

Dean watched as Castiels wounds began to close, his bruises began to heal, and even his clothes began to mend themselves. He was happy Cas was ok, but now he knew the story, he was itching to get out there and find Sammy. He stood suddenly, and strode out of the room intent on finding his shoes, and getting his 'kill kit'.

A few minutes later, they were in the impala, tyres kicking up dust as they headed towards town – the direction Sam was last seen. Dean rationalized that even if they were only a mile away, they probably had a good 2 hour lead, and in a vehicle – that meant they could be in the next state by now.

"Dean – pull over here. That scorched patch there is where they got me, and cuffed Sam."

Dean slammed on the breaks, throwing the angel forward into the dashboard, and earning him a long sideways glance. The hunter refused to look at the angel, and rushed out of the car to investigate the scene of the kidnapping. Blood. Some burnt earth in a wide circle. More blood. A broken pike with a bloody blade. And… wait – what was that?

Dean narrowed his eyes and crouched down to the small pile of dirt that lay conspicuously out of place amongst the scene. He brushed the top layer aside to reveal Sams silver blade – the one he used on shapeshifters and werewolves. He picked it up and turned it over, hoping there was a clue along the knife edge.

Nothing. The blade was a clean as when it was first cast.

"Find anything?" Cas called out, sticking by the car to avoid Deans investigation, and anger.

"Nothing useful." Dean replied, holding up the blade by the tip. Cas grimaced, and got back into the car. Looks like this was not going to be easy. With no motive, no clues and no idea where to look next – he began to get very worried. Surely a kidnap victim would be worth more alive than dead? He was so caught up in his thoughts that he jumped when Dean got back into the car.

"They knew about the holy fire, which means they knew about me," Cas growled, angry to have been caught off-guard. "And a kidnapping would mean a ransom note – did you receive anything?" When Dean just shook his head, the angels frown deepened. "Perhaps they were after food?..." He cut himself off as Dean glanced his way, throwing a murderous glare.

"Look, Cas, Sammy ain't no weakling, and he sure as hell knows how to fight monsters. So the question remains – how the hell did they get the jump on him? Nobody knows the location of the bunker – it's secrets have secrets. So how, huh? Answer me that!" His voice rose to a roar and Cas stared back at him, eyes glinting in reprimand.

"It's not my fault he's gone, Dean." Cas rumbled. Dean looked at him furiously, then swung around and headed back to the car. The angel paused before following, hesitant to get into the car with the man. Once they were back on the road, Dean started to calm, his mind ticking away.

"Look, Cas – I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault." Dean eventually said, eyes forward, hands gripping the wheel.

Castiel turned his head to look at the hunter, face pensive. "I forgive you, Dean." His gaze wandered back to the road. Dean stole a glance across the passenger seat, Cas seemed firm – more like the soldier he'd first met than the friend he'd come to know. He had strong, expressive features, and Dean was able to see clearly whether he was happy, angry, offended, nervous, or concerned. Right now, all he saw was avid concentration. It suited him.

"Where do we go from here?" That voice rumbled again, like thunder in the car.

"We head to town. If these dick bags took Sammy for ransom, or bait, they would have been staying nearby – and the only town around here ain't that big. Somebody must have seen something."

Cas nodded in agreement as they entered the small town and headed straight for the local motel – the most likely place to start searching for suspicious drifting travelers. The car park was half full when they pulled in, a scantily dressed blonde woman stood by the vending machine, twitching her hips as she texted on her phone – not even looking in their direction.

Dean headed straight for the office, Cas in tow, intending to ask the manager about any strange guest that had stayed. But after fifteen minutes of questions, authority and bribery – it became obvious that no-one meeting their description had been staying.

"Well that was a bust." Dean huffed angrily, exiting the office with a slam. He was about to stride back to the car, when he took another look at the woman by the vending machine. Hooker, obviously – but maybe she'd seen something. Cas followed behind him, curious as to why he was approaching this woman with a swaggering gait.

She looked up as they approached, putting her phone in her faux fox fur jacket, and flashing them both a wide grin. "Hey there, handsome." She began, pushing away from the vending machine, and sweeping her long hair off her face. Dean noticed that her blue minidress looked a little worn, and her cowboy boots were more scuffed than a bronco rider. Her hair had looked blonde at first glance, but on closer inspection, it was a terrible dye job, with dark brown and gray roots poking through. Still she was pretty, in a tired kind of way – like a piece of fine art in a bad frame.

He coughed nervously, and smiled at her in a suggestive way. "Hey beautiful," He began, using all his charm, "My – uh – friend and I, here, we're hoping you could give us some info…"

Her eyes flicked over to Castiel, who was watching the exchange with interest. Her grin widened.

" Well, sugar, usual rate for a group job is $500 for the hour, but seeing as he's such a cutie, I'll give you a discount - $450." She waited expectantly, running her tongue over her lips as she eyes Deans torso.

Dean blinked, a huffed a laugh and a half smile, before shifting his body in an amused way, "No, you don't get it – what was your name?"

Her smile dropped by half, and her hazel eyes took on a flinty glare. "I'm Angel, and what's not to get? $450 boys – or stop wasting my time." Cas blinked at the name, and shifted his feet uncomfortably.

Dean tried for charm again, "Listen, Angel, we're just after some info about some drifters who've passed through here lately. Have you seen anything… strange around here lately?" He asked, hopefully. When Angel said nothing, Dean sighed, and pulled a fifty dollar note from his pocket. Her eyes stayed flinty, but she snatched the note, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"I seen a lot of strange stuff lately – but, yeah, there was a group of guys who passed by here two nights ago. They drove this big grey SUV – they weren't no drifters, but they sure weren't staying long. I saw them the next night at Kingstons – that's the bar I work at on weekends."

"How many were there? Did they say anything? Approach anyone?" Dean asked quickly

Angels eyes darted from side to side, nervous "About 8 - They didn't say anything – but some local johns approached them – told them they were sitting in the wrong seats. Gary – one of the locals - was pretty wasted, and tried to shove his way in. Nobody saw what really happened – but one second everything was winding up to a fight, and the next, Gary is lying on the floor with a broken arm, and the new comers are leaving a $100 tip and a 'sorry' to Chad – he runs the place." She paused for a sec, her voice trembling. "I don't know what kind of military or special forces dudes they were – but it was like something out of a movie. Like Jackie Chan or something."

Dean nodded, thanked Angel, and began walking back towards the car. He stopped and turned when he noticed Cas wasn't following him. Angel was leaning in, whispering something in his ear, Cas was shaking his head and murmuring back to her. Dean coughed loudly, grinning at his friend as he looked up, said something to the woman, then headed back to the car. Angel, for her part, began walking out of the parking lot and toward town, not looking back.

"So," Dean said, with a shit-eating grin, over the top of the car, "what more did 'Angel' have to tell you?"

Castiel looked confused, but answered honestly. "She said she didn't want any trouble – but that she was scared. She asked if I could come to her room to stay with her for a while. I told her I couldn't, because we were looking for someone. Then she said 'pro-boner'," Dean choked a laugh, "And I just said I had to go – that she should get out of town if she was scared." Cas got in the car without a second glance. Dean whistled silently, laughing in his head as he got behind the wheel and started the car.

"You know she was flirting with you, right?" He said, face twitching, hand on the brake.

Castiel glanced at Dean uncomfortably, "I understand flirting Dean. But that wasn't flirting – she was offering sex. I wasn't interested." He adjusted his coat, and stared out the passenger window.

Deans grin faltered as he pulled the car out of the parking lot to head to town. "Not interested? Cas, it's not like you've had a heck of experience with… these matters. After we find Sammy, you and I should have a little howl at the moon, you know? Head out on the town."

The angels lips pulled up at the sides, a small smile that held a world of happiness, "I'd like that."

Dean smiled to himself, and filed the conversation away for something to do after this whole fiasco was resolved. For now. It was time to find Sammy.

The bar was tidy, in a hometown kind of way, wooden stools, several pool tables, and an old 60's juke box. Dean instantly felt at home. He walked up to the bar and greeted Chad, asking him about the events of the previous evening. There wasn't much more to it that what Angel had already told them – but Chad could give them Gary's address. Perhaps the local had seen something before his arm was broken. Fangs? Claws? Black eyes? Something.

Arriving at Gary's house, Dean immediately noticed the broken fence across the front yard, in a street that was practically the PTA's wet dream. There was also blood spots leading up the house. No so dreamy. Dean pulled his handgun, and cautiously approached the house. The front door was open slightly – he eased it all the way, and crept through, gun up.

"Gary Vartel," He called loudly, as Cas closed the door behind himself - no point in scaring the neighbors. The two of them crept around the house, following the spattered blood trail. Entering the kitchen, they found him. Tied spread-eagled, face up on the kitchen bench, a pool of blood crusted around him, and his chest cavity and throat ripped open, organs spilling out over the counter.

Dean holstered his gun at the sight of the cold body, and moved quickly to inspect. Castiel roamed the house, searching for further clues. He found a small pile of sulfur by the back door, and several sets of claw marks. He reported back to Dean, who advised him with a grimace that Gary's heart, liver and kidneys were missing.

Castiel looked confused. "What kind of monster eats those organs?"

"I don't know – but I'm wondering why they came back to finish him at all. Sounds like they were trying to keep a low profile at the bar – why would they mess that up now?" Dean looked frustrated – until Castiel pointed out something on the dead mans arm. It wasn't blood splatter – it was-

"Writing." Dean murmured, pulling up the sleeve to read the full message.

This is your brother in 24 hours. Grantston Park.

Cas frowned at the message, and glanced at Dean. His face was a mask of calm fury. The angel wasn't sure that he himself would be safe, if the elder Winchester came after him in that mood.

"Dean – do we know what these things are? We have to assume we're walking into a trap."

"Of course we're walking into a trap, genius. But if Sammy's the bait – there's no question."

"But Dean-"

"Shuttup,Cas. I said we're going in. You got a problem with that, I can drop you off right here."

There was a stony silence. Dean wouldn't give, and Castiel couldn't convince him to wait.

"This isn't the first time we've done this Cas – so sack up, and get your mojo ready to gank these sons of bitches." He yanked the wheel, turning the Impala down the dirt track towards the farm. The sun was just dipping below the horizon as they pulled up in front of a dilapidated old farm house and free standing barn.

Cas exited the car, anger simmering in his face. Dean ignored him and got out to pop the trunk open. He selected his rock salt sawn off, machete, .45 with devils traps on the cartridges, two clips of standard silver bullets and a holy water flask. Slamming the trunk slightly harder than usual, he walked past the angel, not looking him in the eye as he grunted, "Let's do this."

The barn was an old, double story hay bale build. The faded wood held thumbprints of red paint that flaked off in the light twilight breeze. They walked forward confidently, Castiel slightly behind Dean, watching his back. The barn door was open just enough for them to shoulder through, and the hunter pushed in, shotgun aimed, taking in the entire space in a moment.

Silence.

There was a dust mote floating across the fading light coming from the overhead level. Old, dusty straw, long devoid of mold lay strewn across the dirt floor, clearly showing the set of fresh foot prints that Dean followed. The trail ended at the back corner of the barn, where a large figure lay slumped over, legs at an awkward angle.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, rushing over into a crouch, dragging off the burlap sack that was over his head. He gripped the sides of Sams face and shook him, calling his name to no result.

"Cas – get over here and do your angel thing!" Deans voice was panicked, he noticed the large wounds on Sams chest, and bruises across his face, and rage took over. He was going to find whatever did this. And he was going to rip it apart with his bare hands.

Castiel shouldered Dean to the side and leaned down to press two fingers to Sam forehead. There was a pause, and the angel frowned, concentrating harder. His eyes glowed blue, and his hand began to emit a bright light. Dean looked at Castiel worriedly, "Hey – don't blow him up or anything, Cas…"

The light became arced and painful, thunder rumbled in the now pitch black barn, and lightning struck the sky outside, throwing Deans face into sharp relief. His eyes widened as he watched great, shadowed wings reach across the barn walls as Castiel called on his true power. It always took him by surprise – the true form of what lay inside their naïve, trench coated friend. He seemed so serious, so earnest – but also inexperienced. Dean often forgot that Castiel was thousands of year old with the way he understood the world, but there was no mistaking that when the sense of power flowed off him like honey.

The light began to fade, and the angel lowered his hand, breathing out heavily. Sam's eyes remained closed. Dean looked from Sam to Cas and back again, expectantly – this was usually the part where the hurt person bounced up fresh as a daisy.

"What the hell, Cas?!"

Castiel lifted his gaze to Deans face, sadness and confusion painted across it.

"I can't wake him up-"

"What are you talking about, man? What – is y- is your mojo broken or something? Fix him!"

"Dean – he's alive, but there's something prevent my grace from entering his mind. It's like there's a wall, or a – "Cas paused and took a step back, shock in his eyes. "It's a sigil."

"A sigil? What kind of sigil – what are you talking about?" Dean had his arms out, confused.

Cas turned fully towards him and spoke to him in his frank, and exasperated manner, "It's an angel warding sigil, Dean. A protection. To stop angels from possessing his body, or… " He stuttered, that confused look back on his face, "…to stop an angels grace from repairing damage – though I've never heard of sigils being used like that before. It's similar to the branding I put on your ribs to hide you both from being located." His eyebrows twitched back into a frown. "It feels like he's behind a glass wall – my power can see him, but keeps sliding away." He waved a hand for emphasis.

Dean couldn't accept that explanation.

"Well? Then where's the sigil? I'll carve it off him if I have to." His voice was rough with concern and anger. He crouched back down beside Sam and started shifting him into a more transportable position.

"Dean – it's not on him physically," Dean grunted with effort as he pulled Sam across the barn floor. "It's in his mind. Whatever did this to him has trapped him in his own mind – and it's there that the sigil is powerful. He can block me as long as he believes it's real."

"Well," puff, "We make him," huff "Believe it's NOT real." He stopped, panting, and looked at the angel expectantly. Cas just stared at him.

"You gonna give me a hand here?" Dean said, speaking to him like he was a child. Castiel twitched and hurried over to get Sam's feet, as they lifted him outside, and into the back seat of the impala.

"Whatever's going on, we need to get back to the bunker, and find answers." Dean hurried behind the wheel and started the car, face grim.

"That was too damn easy."