AN: This is the product of waking up for three am, and then being awake for two hours more hours, and then drinking a buttload of coffee. Mmm caffeine… So it's still a pretty filler chapter, but the plot is intensely active next chapter! Castiel is going to be hugely important soon, so Cas lovers, you're in for a heck of a ride!

What the hell is Sam supposed to say? He wasn't lying the numerous times he told Cole that he had no idea where Dean was. And he couldn't tell the truth about Dean being a demon. He doubted Cole would be able to comprehend that idea.

Lies lead to pain, truth leads to the same. After suffering at Cole's hands for a few hours now, Sam had begun to wonder how Cole had become so skilled in the art of pain. He could make the smallest thing become a world of hurt. From how he would nick Sam's skin with a rusted blade and rub salt in the wound, to simply wrapping his hands around Sam's neck, and cutting off his air until he was on the brink of passing out. Cole definitely knew what he was doing.

Sam actually feared for however Cole had mastered this particular skill set. Probably watched too many gorn movies. Still, damn, he knew how to make someone hurt.

"Here's what I don't get, Sam." Cole's obnoxiously casual voice was beginning to become just as painful. "Why are you even defending him? I get it, he's your brother, but even you to know how screwed up he is." Cole laughed, although it was more of a scoff, as he reached into his black duffel bag that seemed to never run out of weapons. Sam was momentarily reminded of Mary Poppin's bag that had no limits as to how much could be packed inside. He almost laughed at the pathetic comparison.

"So," Sam's voice was strained from being choked so many times. "You're torturing me, for information I don't have, but you still think Dean's the bad guy?"

Cole simply turned back toward Sam, and before it even registered, Sam found himself doused with a liquid that smelled invitingly familiar. Whiskey. Sam coughed as some of it trickled unexpectedly down his throat, and hissed when some of it ran into one of the numerous cuts he had on his body.

Panic crept in anew when Cole held up a lighter, and flicked it on in warning.

Fire had always made Sam uneasy. Watching your mother burn on the ceiling above your crib can lead to those kinds of side effects. Sam didn't remember the fire, but at the back of his mind, he always knew it was something to be feared. The very first spark of a flame he'd ever seen made him cling to Dean in fear.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean comforted to his little brother. "It's not gonna hurt you."

Four year old Sam clung to his eight year old brother's neck, and burrowed his face into Dean's shoulder, away from the fire.

"Hey, Sammy."

Sam responded by further burying his head into Dean's chest.

"You remember the fireworks we see every summer right?" He felt Sam nod his head against him. "Well, you need fire to make 'em work. It's what makes the fireworks look so awesome. See? Fire's not so bad after all."

Thus, ending his fear of fire. Skip ahead a decade and a half, and Sam's ex-fear steals the woman he loved from him. But Dean was there to pull him out of the flames, Dean was always there for him when he needed him to be. Until, the one time he wasn't.

Hell was fire. Sam's hell was skin bubbling from the heat, bones charring under the flames that consumed him daily. Lucifer may have burned cold, but he still burned. Sam would hide how he would flinch every time they had to salt and burn a body, suppress every shudder when they lit a match for a spell, because Dean was there, he didn't have to be afraid. Until now.

The horror is Sam's eyes didn't go unseen by Cole, and he smirked at it. "What's the matter, Sam? Not a fan of fire?" He set the lighter against Sam's arm, and lit it. Sam's jacket smoked at first, and then leapt into a tiny flame.

Sam felt his clothes start to singe, and knew that his layers wouldn't protect him for long. He thrashed wildly, too busy trying to extinguish the fire to feel the pain his struggling caused.

A small flame lasted through his thrashing, and began heating his skin, and then it started burning. Instead of using years of training to think his way out, he screamed.

Cole allowed Sam to suffer for a few seconds longer, then he finally put the fire out. Sam continued panting, failing at trying to mask his complete and utter terror.

"Effective, isn't it? Even better when you've seem to got a little issue with fire. Care to play with it again?"

Sam just closed his eyes in resignation. As much as he wanted to run into Dean's arms to protect him from the flames, he was on his own. There were times where alone was all he wanted to be, but now? He'd trade all those moments away if he could be with someone again.

"Cas, please… Help me."

"Sir?" Hannah asked as she approached Castiel. "Metatron is ready to talk… About the mark."

Castiel shot up eagerly, he only prayed, well, not prayed, hoped that he'd be able to help Dean, no matter what the consequences. He made his way to Metatron's cell, and almost felt pity at the sight before him.

Metatron was sagging against his chains, not an inch of him wasn't dripping blood. His visible skin was countless shades of blue and purple, his fingers were bent at horribly unnatural angles, and he no longer wore a cocky little grin, he was purely resigned. To what exactly was unknown.

"Cas-ti-el." Metatron said his name the same way he always did, over enunciating each syllable. It almost sounded more like a curse this time though. "I suppose you're pretty pleased with yourself now, aren't you?"

Not in the slightest. "Tell me how to cure Dean."

"I don't know why you'd want me to tell you. Once he loses the mark, he's got nothing keeping him alive."

"That is my problem, not yours. Tell me how to cure him."

Metatron sighed like a disappointed parent. "The mark was created for someone who was worthy. Dean, somehow, managed to be adequate enough for it. Find someone else worthy, and get him to give it up."

"How?"

"Have you tried asking him nicely?"

Castiel turned away. Metatron hadn't told him anything he didn't already know. He knew the mark was all that was keeping Dean alive, and a demon. How to make him give up the mark was the question.

"I take it you'll be needing a way to hack back into Dean?"

Sure, you could hack an angel, but could it be possible to do the same with a demon? Reach inside, and find the person trapped within their own minds? "Is there a way to reach Dean?"

"A spell. Same one used to make angels lose control for a while. Happy? Did I earn my gold star?"

As much as Castiel wanted to allow his followers to continue their idea of justice, Metatron had done as he was asked. Castiel simply nodded, and turned to leave again.

"You can't save him, you know. Not really. You cure him, and he's dead."

Castiel paused, but he didn't look at Metatron when he replied. "I know."

Metatron had said something else, but Castiel solely heard Sam's pleading voice in his head.

"Cas, please… Help me."

One Winchester right after the other.

I swear, I know where I'm going with the story, but the how to get there (mainly this chapter) was hard to get into the spot I wanted to. Next chapter will hopefully be up quicker than this one was. Also, HOLY FREAKING EVERYTHING HELLATUS IS OVER TOMORROW! And in case you weren't aware, there's a special tonight looking back at Supernatural's long, lovely road. Interviews and all sorts of wonderful things tonight at 9/8 central on the CW. (Yes, I am an advertisement.) Last thing, leave a review if y'all've got the time! See you soon!