AN/ hello once again! As you can tell, I am trying really hard to update as often as possible. So far every night has been working out! Hope everyone Is liking what I'm doing so far. And holy chuck have you guys been keeping up with the season 9 teasers? Like right in the freaking feels.

Anyway onward my wayward son...

Disclaimer: not mine. Still.

Chapter 4

Castiel sat huddled in the far corner of the cell, trying to make himself as small as possible against he scrutiny of his holding cell room mates. An elderly drunkard kept to himself, splayed against her bench across from the fallen angel, a man with a wicked looking black eye and a clenched jaw hadn't looked away from the wall once, and a heavy set gentlemen with a gold tooth eyed them all like meat for sale.
Cas sat, trembling with his knees to his cheat. Never had he felt smaller, more out of control then he did at this moment. His head was pounding, he gritted his teeth against the onslaught of pain, his ribs ached, his back pressed hard up against the concert wall despite its groaning. How far he had fallen to come to this. Imprisoned in a human cell with no way out and no one to call.

"What are you in for?" Demanded the man with the gold tooth, clearly by his tone he was not requesting.
Cas looked up, startled. He didn't know what to say. Should he say anything?
"I'm not sure. Loitering, I suppose." He replied, his voice evened ruffed than usual, the weight of his depression holding him tightly.
The man shrugged, clearly not impressed with Castiel's story.

It remained quiet like that for several hours. The drunkard had been taken home by what seemed to be his son, a few hours passed that the man with the black eye was even released.
Though there was no windows, Cas could still feel the shift in the hours, and the how the new batch of officers now carried coffee to the break room and looked more awake then the passed security guards.
The gold toothed man paid him no more questions, but his diligent gaze left Castiel a little more then unsettled, so even when sleep beckoned he remained dutifully awake. Though he had nothing left for anyone to take, the assault was still fresh in his mind and fears.

Food had been brought, but even if the frightened man wanted to eat, it was quickly devoured by his portly cell mate. Castiel gave no complaints even as his stomach ached from the lack of food the past week.

An officer came to escort the gold toothed man out of the cell, and looked at Cas with sympathy clear on here face and tone.

"Hun, is there anyone we can call for you?"

Glancing up, he replied sorrowfully. "There is no one."
She nodded, explained to him that he could only stay one more day and that she could give him a number to a home that helped "people in his condition."

He didn't want to leave. Isn't this where bad people went?

SPNSPNSPN

The Impala gripped the road right around a corner, her tires squealing in protest as Dean slowed her down apologetically.
He was headed to Colorado. The faster he got there and realized it wasn't Cas, then he could get home to Sam, who wouldn't shut up about him at least trying until he finally loaded up his packed suitcase he had left by the door since breakfast.
Sam was given strict instructions not to feed Crowley, I mean let's be honest, he literally bites.
Charlie arrived faster than Dean thought humanly possible, loaded up with DVDs, junk food and protein shakes for Sam. Sam was looking better, Dean had to admit. Still pale and weak but the coughing had settled and he had been able to start keeping food down.

The road ahead went flat for miles ahead of him, causing him to lose himself in his own head for a while. His phone gave a violent ring, causing Dean to swear loudly and swerve back into his own lane.

Charlie.

He answered quickly, his gut clenching in panic. "What's wrong? He ok?" Already preparing to turn around.

Charlie answered quickly trying to reassure Dean with the tone of her voice.

"Dean, calm down. Sam is fine." Came the redhead voice on the other end.

Dean visibly relaxed back into his seat. "Okay the redhead's what's up."

"It's Cas." Charlie paused as a choosing her words carefully so not too upset the older brother. "It's him, in Colorado I mean."

Suddenly Deans phone came alive with the loud vibration.

"Just pull over for a second."

Dean clenched his jaw and pulled over quickly, the dust settling around the old car as he settled.

He opened his phone to view the photo Charlie had sent him.

A mug shot.

There is no doubt it was Castiel; his face was drawn, invisibly in pain. Blood was smeared down the side of his face and he is cowering like a kicked puppy. That was Cas, he was alive.

"What did he do?" Dean asked, running a hand over tired face as he stared the picture, still trying to convince himself that Cas was actually alive. That he wasn't too late.

"It stated public intoxication and loitering.' Charlie said, clearly unconvinced at the implications that we're being put upon the angel. 'But Cas doesn't seem like the drinking type."

Dean gripped the wheel tightly again, its leather cracking underneath his frustration. His stomach threatened revolt as he thought back to the future That Zachariah had allowed him to see; A broken fallen angel, surviving only under a daze of drugs and alcoholism.

"He's not." He flipped back to the turnpike, pushing baby faster. "Thanks for the heads up. I'm bringing him home Charlie."

That future would not come to fruition; not he had anything to say about it.

SPNSPNSPN

The police station was a little hole in the wall, nestled right in the outskirts of town. Dean parked The impala quickly upfront, resting his head on her steering wheel, taking in a shaky breath and mustering up all the courage he could manage. This weekend had been hell, and he should know; he's been there. The searching, second-guessing and denial seem to have been long ago as he strode into the station, pocketful of bills to ease along the process.

The officer at the counter was a kind looking woman, nursing a large coffee, but by the look of Exhaustion on her face it was doing a little good.

"Can I help you?" She didn't look up.

"Yeah I'm looking for a guy who got picked up a day or two ago."

"You a relative?" She asked pulling up her computer screen.

"Something like that."

The woman shrugged, not that it really mattered.

"His name is Castiel.' He offered when the silence become too much. 'If that'll help speed this along."

The officer rolled her eyes, handed him some forms to sign and pointed through two large doors.

"It's lucky you came,' she exclaimed as he was about to enter the other room. 'about to kick him out here in an hour or two. Pretty cold outside."

Dean said his jaw, nodded and continued through the double doors.

A few security checks later, he found himself outside the holding cell. The guard nodded him in and Dean Slowly approached the large holding cell.

There was no tan trench coat, just the huddled mass in the corner, shivering beneath a gray torn T-shirt. He looked smaller, fragile and skinny; like a strong wind to carry him away at a moments notice, or that he could sink into that wall he was so desperately clinging to.

"Cas?" Dean ventured, scooting closer the door of the cell, the guard looking bored as he contained to hold it open.
Deans heart dropped to the ground as the man lifted his matted and bloody head. His once brilliant blue eyes where dull and sunken, his skin pale and crusted with dried blood that Dean had seen in the mug shot only hours before.

"Hello Dean."

To be continued...

Sorry for all the angst! I promise it'll get better. I just really wanted to paint a picture, this is the lowest that Cas has fallen. But yay! Now Deans there!
Hope everybody loved the update, I plan on trying to update tomorrow evening as well if everything goes as planned.