Okay guys, I present to you the next chapter of "more reasons to hate the BMoL for your Monday!" LOL

Also, I hope the ethereal imaging thing in this chap makes sense. I was trying to come up with something interesting, but science/technological things aren't really my forte :P

Chapter Four

Specimen

Sam supposed he should be lucky they hadn't done more to him. He recalled with a shudder the hallucinogenic serum Toni Bevel had used on him before, and knew it could be worse, but still. The demon blood…

Ketch had guards take him back to his cell as soon as they had forced the poison down his throat. It had not been a pleasant experience, the tubing had scraped his throat raw—probably his fault for fighting it so much, but he wasn't just going to sit there and take it without a fight.

Now he could feel the blood starting to pulse through him. He was hot and cold at the same time, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His eyes too, seemed more sensitive even in the dim light of the cell. He curled his long figure onto the cot, arms hugging himself as he shivered. He'd thought about forcing himself to throw up, but it was too late for that now. Ketch had obviously expected him to do anything in his power to defy them, so he'd waited for it to hit Sam's system before he'd let the guards take him back to his cell.

Sam didn't remember the demon blood hurting so much—this felt more like the withdrawals, but he didn't remember much about the first time anyway. He'd been perpetually drunk, distraught over Dean's death, unable to keep his head straight—which was obviously the reason he'd let Ruby coerce him in the first place. Besides, his body hadn't dealt with demon blood for years, it was probably just reacquainting itself with it…something he had never intended to happen.

He gripped his arms so tightly they bruised, as anger and defiance flooded through him. He didn't care how much the Men of Letters tried to force him into this, he wouldn't give them satisfaction. He wouldn't agree to being their attack dog.

He just hoped he was able to keep a good enough hold on himself so that he didn't become lost like he had been before.

Sam didn't know how long it was that he lay there in the fevered, delirious state, before the door opened. He startled, looking up to see four men come through with the female doctor from earlier. They crowded into the small room and the doctor glanced at Sam.

"Hold him down," she said.

"No! What are you doing?" Sam demanded as the men swarmed him, gripping his arms and trying to force him flat onto the cot. Sam wasn't having any of that. He kicked one of the men, and lashed out a fist, connecting with another and almost succeeded in getting free.

Of course they had the inevitable cattle prods, and one was shoved into Sam's side, ceasing his struggles. He felt his body hit the hard floor, and the four guards surrounded him, holding him down with their body weight.

He struggled, but didn't get far. One man crushed his chest, making it hard for him to even draw breath.

The doctor knelt and pulled out another vile of blood and Sam's eyes shot open, as he attempted to renew his struggles. "No! No more!" he tried.

One of the guards simply gripped his jaw, keeping his head still as the doctor swiftly poured the blood into his mouth. The viscous, metallic liquid hit Sam's tongue and made him want to vomit, but the guards forced his mouth closed and covered that and his nose so eventually he was forced to swallow. They even kept up the suffocation for a few long seconds after he had just to make sure, and Sam was seeing spots in front of his eyes by they time they all drew back, climbing to their feet.

Sam was still gulping in deep breaths as they retreated to the door. Sam rolled onto his side, coughing. He forced himself onto his hands and knees, crawling over to the toilet to throw up, but was stopped by a cattle prod in his back, the electricity sending him back to the floor.

They didn't stop until he was twitching and whimpering in a very pitiful manner, blackness tinting the corners of his vision. Sam was too out of it by then to even think of fighting anymore, so he simply surrendered to the darkness completely.


Dean and his mother got to the site of the compound a few hours after sunrise. Everything looked calm and quiet as he parked the Impala a little bit away, and they grabbed some weapons and a pair of binoculars to scope the place out at a distance.

"Dean," Mom said quietly as they hiked to a lookout location. "We need to talk about how we're planning to get them out. The Brits run a secure facility and have trained soldiers, it's not just gonna be like running in to save someone from a couple vampires."

"I know," Dean said, trying not to be curt. "But we'll figure this out too. They may outnumber the two of us but I know they don't have as many people as they'd like us to think they do. Why else do you think they keep trying to recruit all the American hunters?" They found a spot on a hilly patch of grass outside the border of the compound and settled down there out of sight of anyone who might be scanning the area. "Once, Sam, Cas and I infiltrated a corporate building where a monster business mogul was trying to hatch an evil plan to make all humans into food. They were pretty high tech too, and were practically unkillable. This is like a milk run in comparison. In cases like this, sometimes it's best to have fewer people. Easier to go under the radar."

Mom gave him a somewhat skeptical look, but shrugged. "True, but it's not going to hurt to know what we're up against."

"I know," Dean muttered. Truthfully, he was having to force himself to be calm right now. The thought of those bastards having Sam and Cas for even this long make his skin crawl. He wanted to crash the gate and go in guns blazing, but he knew Mom was right. If they wanted to succeed in getting Sam and Cas out without getting caught themselves, then it was probably a good idea to actually gain some intel and figure out a workable plan of action.

Though, to be honest, a workable plan of action was not looking too difficult at the moment.

"You seeing any perimeter or gate guards?" Dean asked as he scoped out the area before handing the binoculars to his mom.

She took them and scanned the building and surrounding areas. "No, I'm not."

Dean started to get a weird feeling about this. He studied the facility a little more closely. Nothing gave indication of life at all.

"This is weird," he muttered to himself and stood up.

"Dean," Mom called, but he was already making his way down the hill back toward the Impala.

"I think we need to take a closer look."

He hoped this wasn't a trap but he didn't think the Brits were the kind to leave themselves unprotected just for the sake of catching someone. No, they'd do in when it was least expected, when you felt secure. Then they'd take you in a surprise attack without giving you a chance to fight. Like when you were just trying to get a freaking pizza.

He drove over to the gate of the compound and he and Mom got out of the car, walking over to the chain-link fence. The gate was ajar and he pushed it open fully and slipped through. They both had their guns out and ready but the overall silence told of desertion.

Dean crept toward the entrance to the facility and glanced at the automated scanning device outside the door. It was off, dead, and he simply kicked the door in before stepping inside the building, his mom right behind him.

He knew right away as soon as he stepped inside and he lowered his gun. "No one's here," he growled. "Son of a bitch!"

Now he had no idea where the hell those bastards had taken Sam and Cas.


Castiel tried to rest, having nothing better to do in his cell than think and get his strength back, but he was interrupted every hour by Brady who came to take pictures of his wounds. They were healing slowly but steadily. After about five hours the only ones that hadn't healed completely were the two deepest made with his angel blade. Brady found that fascinating. Castiel found it depressing. He could have healed such wounds, even ones made with an angel blade, within seconds, back when he had all of his grace.

He sat cross-legged on the cot, head resting back against the wall. He wasn't sure how long it was—even he couldn't keep track of time in this windowless cell—but his wounds were all healed but one pink scar, when the door to his cell opened again. Two guards came in and simply grabbed him by the arms, hauling him up and out the door again.

"It wouldn't hurt to ask politely, you know," Castiel grunted. Of course they didn't reply. They never acknowledged him. To them he was probably no more than a dog barking. It almost made him wish Ketch had come back. At least he spoke to Castiel and the angel could get a rise out of him—that was actually rather fun really, even if it would probably result in a beating like the last time. It was almost worth it to see a little of the Englishman's carefully crafted veneer slip.

They took him to the laboratory again though this time to another room where there was a table as well as monitors and other machines that Castiel had no idea the use for. It all looked rather high tech. Lionel was waiting there with Brady and Harker, setting things up. Lionel barely spared a glance up when the guards brought him in.

"Thank you, get it on the table," he said.

The two guards swiftly and efficiently stripped him of his t-shirt and manhandled him onto the table, manacling him again. The cuffs today weren't sigiled, which he found odd. He could probably break these if he wanted to, though he figured it wouldn't do much good anyway. Brady came a moment later and finished with the other straps, and then picked up the gag. Castiel met his eyes and was pleased to see the young man swallow hard before Brady attempted to pry Castiel's mouth open. This time Castiel did manage to bite his latex covered fingers and Brady snatched his hand back with a curse.

"Dammit, Brady!" Lionel snapped, shoving the other man aside and snatching the gag again. He grabbed a metal instrument from a nearby table, a pair of forceps or something, and forced it into Castiel's mouth between his teeth, then used it to lever his jaw open. Castiel still struggled as the gag went in and pressed down on his tongue, stopping just before it would reach his gag reflex.

"Be innovative, would you?" Lionel continued.

"Sorry sir," Brady said. But he was wary of Castiel and the angel was going to do his best to keep it that way.

"We'll do the x-rays first," Lionel told his assistants. "Then start our next batch of tests."

Castiel wanted to sigh wearily. Was yesterday not enough?

One of the machines in the room was wheeled over to the side of the table. It had an arm with a wide bar attached to it, and Castiel figured this was some sort of x-ray machine. He didn't know what they expected to find. His body was just like any human's.

"Preliminary scans first," Lionel said, and stepped back as Harker started up the machine.

They moved the arm across Castiel's body from head to foot, and then stopped, pulling it back to its starting point. The images appeared on a screen on the far wall and Castiel saw his skeleton with some overlapping shadows of his internal organs. Nothing unusual there.

"Now use the other setting," Lionel said.

They scanned him again, and this time Castiel frowned as he saw the images that were recorded and sent to the computer. At first it looked like a typical thermal image, but it wasn't quite right. Most of his body registered as dark midnight blue, but with some thin veins of a lighter color shooting through it. Then in the center of his chest, right under his sternum, the veins culminated in a ball of light blue, that slowly changed to white at the center. Castiel narrowed his eyes at it, and then realized with sudden recognition that it must be his grace. His breath caught in his throat. How could they detect this?

Lionel and the other scientists seemed impressed too.

"It works just like we thought it would," Harker exclaimed with satisfaction. "It clearly revels the energy signatures of the angel's grace."

The door opened then, and Castiel looked up, seeing Ketch stride in.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," the Englishman said. "I just thought I might pop in to see how your work is going, Lionel." His eyes fell on Castiel and there was a satisfied look in his eyes that made Castiel clench his fists in anger. He hated being caught in this vulnerable position, especially with Ketch around to gloat at him.

"No, of course, Mr. Ketch, come in, observe," Lionel said congenially. "We were just about to get to the fun stuff."

"Oh, brilliant," Ketch said with a small smirk at Castiel, before glancing up at the screens with an approving sound. "Ah, so I see your imaging programs work exactly as planned, Lionel. I must congratulate you and your team on that. The research department back in London will be very interested in this I'm sure."

"Thank you," Lionel said with a self-satisfied look that made Castiel hate him all the more. "I'm glad to finally be able to test it out on an angel. I had high hopes after the successful tests we did on demons, but it's always lovely to be able to see your work pay off."

"I quite agree," Ketch said, glancing at Castiel as he said it and the angel squirmed slightly under his scrutiny.

"We'll be putting it to good use again shortly," Lionel assured him. "Brady, hook the specimen up to the monitors, please."

Castiel bristled at being referred to as a 'specimen' and watched Brady warily as he fiddled with the set of monitors beside the table. The assistant started sticking nodes attached to wires all over Castiel's upper body and temples. The monitors started taking readings from his body, capturing his pulse and other things he wasn't sure about.

"Now, this is where we really put our ethereal imaging system through its paces," Lionel said as Harker brought the arm of the scanning machine down again and positioned it over Castiel's right arm. He flicked several switches and the image came up on the screen, showing in real time instead of simply capturing the image. Castiel's arm was vaguely outlined and detailed in the midnight blue again with several veins of light blue cutting through it.

Castiel was almost so caught up in watching the screen that he didn't notice Lionel had pulled out his angel blade again until the man positioned it above his arm. Castiel tried to jerk away on principal but obviously couldn't move. The blade pierced his flesh, and Lionel made a long cut from the inside of his elbow to his wrist. The heart monitor beeped a little faster as his heart kicked into gear, and he was slightly ashamed of that, but Harker seemed to find it interesting.

Despite the pain, Castiel noticed them watching the screen and he looked up too, seeing the flare of white register where the blade cut through him, as grace sparked out of the wound in real life.

As Lionel put the blade aside, Castiel watched with the rest of them as the screen showed his grace flowing slowly through his veins, leaving tracks of light blue, as it made its way toward the wound where it culminated in a brighter and brighter spot.

"Fascinating," Ketch commented.

Castiel glanced at his wound, seeing his grace glowing in the cut as it started to heal the wound. The cut wasn't deep, but Castiel's grace was still so weakened that it was a sluggish process. Though the scientists and Ketch seemed to find it interesting.

"The angelic grace is acting like white blood cells normally would in a human body," Brady commented as he watched. "It rushes to the site of the injury and starts healing."

Harker was busy taking notes, and Lionel looked like this was one of the best things that had ever happened. "This is brilliant. Think of what we can do with this technology, this knowledge. Perhaps eventually, with the tests we do here, we can figure out how to replicate the angel's healing ability for our own operatives."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the man. What an idiot. Didn't he understand? His grace was not something of simple science, it was the purest essence of an angel's power, a gift from God. It could not, should not, be utilized by humans. Of course, even if he could speak, he knew they wouldn't bother listening to him. He just took comfort in the fact that any experiments they would try would most likely fail. Possibly catastrophically.

"Doctor, look at this!"

Lionel turned to see Harker had started moving the wand of the imaging system over Castiel's body again, and had stopped up by his right shoulder.

"Oh my," Ketch said, leaning over Harker's shoulder to see the built in screen on the machine. "Can you make that bigger?"

Harker sent the image to the big screen on the wall and Castiel finally saw what had gotten them so excited. He was shocked to see the outline of feathers appear in a ghostlike state, shot through with white veins of grace. Apparently the imaging system was able to pick up his wings on the ethereal plane.

He shifted his incorporeal wings to tuck them close to his body away from the scanner. He felt suddenly even more violated than before, not wanting them to see his wings, especially in the poor state they were in. Truthfully, he didn't want to see them either.

"Well," Lionel stated slowly. "That was certainly more than I anticipated. I think this study is going to prove much more informative than I thought."

"Indeed," Ketch said, eyeing Castiel in a way that made his skin crawl. He had a terrible feeling about what they had planned for him next.


Sam came to groggily as his door opened. He realized he was lying on his face on the cold floor, and tried to push himself up, but the guards who came in simply shoved him back onto his face and cuffed his hands behind him. Sam grunted as he was hauled to his feet. His body still ached, but not as much as before. His shirt clung to his torso with sweat, and he could feel the blood singing through his veins like he'd just drunk about ten espressos. Evil espressos.

He was hauled back to the laboratory but this time to a different room. This one had monitors and other stuff he was too fuzzy to think about.

And Arthur Ketch.

"Sam," the Englishman said with false congeniality. "Have a good power nap?"

"Screw you," Sam said, but only half-heartedly. He was honestly just exhausted and wanted to do his best to sleep this latest hit of demon blood off. Even though he knew it didn't work that way—it always came with a horrific withdrawal stage that was far worse than this. However, he'd take anything to get this out of his system.

Ketch shook his head. "Eloquent as always, I see. Well, you won't have to do much but relax and listen."

The guards shoved Sam toward the metal table in the center of the room and pushed him down on it. Sam struggled as they strapped him in, but frankly, as long as they weren't planning on forcing more blood down his throat, he wasn't exactly complaining.

The guards left and a young man in a labcoat entered, moving over to one of the machines.

"This is Harker," Ketch said. "He's one of the boffins here. Helped make this…thing. Tell Sam what this is, Harker."

"It's an ethereal imagining system," the young man said. "It's sort of a cross between an x-ray and a thermal imaging system, but it shows supernatural anomalies instead."

Okay, so if it wasn't for the situation, Sam would probably think that was pretty awesome. But he'd long ago given up praising the Men of Letters for their ingenuity. After all, they'd created a bullet that had dropped Cas in a second and left him paralyzed.

Harker rolled the machine over to the table and positioned the wand over Sam's head. The hunter looked up with a frown as Harker scanned him, then pressed a few buttons and an image popped up on a large screen on the wall.

"Oh, nasty stuff that demon blood," Ketch commented. "I had no idea it was that potent."

Sam looked at the picture, seeing the outline of his body, mostly just looking like a greyish shadow, but there were red veins roping through him, giving him an uneasy feeling, especially when he saw an angry tangle of red and black cloud in the center of his chest.

"Do you see that, Sam?" Ketch asked him, coming to stand by the head of the table. "That's showing just how much of a monster you are."

"No," Sam shook his head, clenching his jaw. "It's just the demon blood. I'm not like that anymore."

Ketch gave a low chuckle. "I beg to differ, look how well it seems to thrive in your body, like it belongs there. Harker, do you have an image of one of the demon scans you did?"

Harker nodded and another image came up. This one showed a black figure with a red tangle at the center of its chest, looking like a larger scale of what was happening in Sam's body. He swallowed hard, his stomach lurching. No, that couldn't be possible. He couldn't resemble a demon that much.

"See, Sam? It's your true nature coming out. Showing you your true potential. You should be grateful, really. We're giving you the opportunity to do good with your…affliction."

"Do good?" Sam demanded. "Grateful? I'm a hunter. I hunt demons, I always have. This, the demon blood, that's not who I am. It was a bad mistake I made a long time ago, like someone doing drugs, okay? But I got clean!" He refused to let Ketch make him feel like a blood sucking freak again. It had taken so long to forgive himself for that mistake. So long to be okay with who he was now. This bastard had no right to just take all that and tear it up in front of his face again.

Ketch seemed to be enjoying his protests. "Oh, Sam, why bother trying to fight it? Before you're done here, you'll have reached your true potential. I'll make sure of that. I'm sure soon you'll be one of our best assets."

"Never. I will never cooperate!" Sam shouted, struggling against his restraints.

Ketch sighed and turned to Harker instead. "Might I have a printout of this image?" he asked.

The assistant nodded and pressed a button on the machine. A few seconds later a colored print of Sam's demonically infused body popped out and Harker handed it to Ketch.

"Perfect," he murmured, then went to the door and called for the guards. "That's all for today, Sam. Thank you for your cooperation."

Sam was too angry to come up with a good reply. He was still seething as he was unstrapped from the table and taken back to his cell.


Ketch made his way to Davies' office after finishing with Sam. He smiled to himself as he recalled the horrified look on the younger Winchester's face. Yes, he was well on his way to breaking that one down. Of course, he knew Sam would still be defiant, probably push the limits, but Ketch had a plethora of ideas on how to get him to cooperate. If his body didn't just take over for him, doing what it was meant to do.

He found Mick having a cup of tea, as he talked on the phone.

"Just keep me updated," he said in closing, and hung up.

"Trouble?" Ketch asked almost hopefully, cocking an eyebrow.

Davies shrugged. "I just got word that Dean and Mary Winchester showed up at the old site this morning."

Ketch smiled at this, imaging Dean's frustration. "They won't find us here, at least not for a long while. And if they get too close, well, I'd be more than happy to take care of them."

"I'm sure you would," Davies said blandly, leaning back in his chair. "How're the projects going?"

"Oh, good," Ketch said. "We've started Sam on a strict demon blood regimen and the angel has already proven its worth to Lionel by providing several interesting discoveries. He's practically like a child at Christmas with all the research gold he's hitting."

"Well, at least you'll have something to report to London at the end of the week," Davies said tiredly. "After that last fiasco with the Winchesters our recruitment drive has gone from bad to worse."

"It's no matter," Ketch said, already bored with the idea of working with American hunters. They were vulgar and base, after all, without a smidgeon of finesse. "We will still be effective here, with or without them."

Davies grunted a bit skeptically, then reached over to a pile of mail on his desk, pulling a flat, square box out. "Oh, by the way, this came for you from the R&D department in London."

"Ah, perfect timing," Ketch took the package with a grin, and pulled out a knife to slit it open. He looked into the box and gave a pleased glance at the contents. "Yes, this will do beautifully."

He couldn't wait to try it out.


After Lionel had finished with Castiel he was carted back to his cell, his wound still in the process of healing. They'd apparently gotten everything they had needed from him. He was left vaguely disturbed at their interest in his wings, but he didn't think there was a way they could make them manifest without his consent. Even Sam and Dean probably didn't know he could manifest his wings onto the physical plane if he wanted to. Angels just didn't do that. It left them too vulnerable since their wings essentially represented their true selves, a physical manifestation of their essence, similar to a human's soul. He didn't want to think of the amount of knowledge the Men of Letters could gather about angels if they managed to force his wings onto this plane. And just the thought of their clinical hands poking and prodding them made him shudder in disgust.

It was only a couple hours after he'd been put back in his cell that it was opened again, this time revealing Ketch. Castiel glared up at him as the Englishman came into the room, a postal box under one arm.

"What do you want?" Castiel asked him.

"To bring you something—think of it as a housewarming gift for your new—permanent—residence."

"You shouldn't have," Castiel replied blandly and watched warily as Ketch opened the box and pulled out a large silver ring.

Castiel frowned, unsure of what it was, but knowing it couldn't be good if the gleam in Ketch's eyes was any indication. "What is that?"

"This? This is a marvel of engineering," Ketch said in admiration, tracing a finger over the ring. "After our last…kerfuffle…I commissioned the boffins in our London R&D department to come up with something for me." He approached Castiel's cot and the angel fought not to flinch away, simply sitting there as if he didn't care. Until Ketch pulled the ring apart at a spot where there was a small loop sticking up and opened the ring, hinging it in half.

Castiel saw what it was then, and he made to stand up, but Ketch simply shoved him hard in the chest, forcing him back down.

"Don't," Castiel ground out as Ketch crowded in on him, grabbing the fist Castiel lashed out with and swiftly wrenching it behind the angel's back, effectively shoving him face first into the cot and keeping him there with his body weight. Castiel struggled as Ketch managed to get the ring around his throat, and lock it back together.

"All dogs must be collared after all," Ketch said as he released Castiel and stepped back. Castiel surged upright, grasping at the collar, and trying to pry it open again.

"Don't bother, it can only be opened with this," Ketch said, tugging his left sleeve a few inches up his arm to reveal a silver band around his wrist. He touched it and sigils came to life around the circle, glowing, and Castiel realized his collar was doing the same thing, causing an uncomfortable tingle to run through his grace.

"And it's not just a collar," Ketch said proudly as he rotated his wrist, looking at the various sigils. "As you can tell, it's Enochian. It can power on and off, so it can keep your powers bound when they need to be, and unbind them when Lionel needs to do his tests like earlier today. Oh, and my favorite feature, it also acts as a shock collar for when you've been a bad little angel."

Ketch touched another sigil and Castiel suddenly felt a surge of fire rip through his body, both his vessel and his grace. He collapsed sideways on the cot, fingers tearing at the collar, a scream ripped unbidden from his throat.

"Oh yes," Castiel heard Ketch say in a pleased voice as his ears finally stopped ringing. "This was definitely worth the wait. I must remember to send a thank you note to the engineers in London."

Castiel forced himself upright with shaky arms, breathing heavily as he turned to glare at Ketch. "This doesn't mean you've broken me," he ground out. "You may put a leash on me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to roll over for you."

"Oh, I know," Ketch admitted. "I know it will be harder than that. That's why I'd like to talk about Sam."

Castiel felt ice replace the previous fire in his veins at the mention of his friend. "What have you done with him?" he demanded coldly, fists clenching.

Ketch just smiled for a moment, obviously enjoying Castiel's helpless rage.

"Ketch, what have you done?" he demanded again.

"Exactly what I told you I would do if you told the Winchesters about our arrangement," Ketch said. "I at least am a man of my word."

Castiel's heart was pounding, his stomach roiling sickly. He didn't want to know the answer, but he had to. "Ketch, what did you do to him?"

"Sam is going to be our next best weapon," Ketch said. "A few weeks of training and taking his daily vitamins and Sam Winchester will be our number one cure for demons in America."

"No," Castiel said, shaking his head. "You did not give him demon blood."

"Come now, halo, you knew this was inevitable," Ketch said.

"You're lying," Castiel tried to reason. Denial wasn't usually his thing, but he couldn't quite make himself believe Ketch just yet either. He didn't want to.

"Why should I?" Ketch asked, cocking an eyebrow. "It's not like I wouldn't."

It was true, Castiel knew. Even if Ketch was just saying it to get at him, it wasn't like he would refrain from doing the exact thing he claimed to have done.

"Besides, I have proof," Ketch said and reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Castiel who unfolded it and frowned, unsure of what it was he was looking at. It looked almost like the scan they'd done on him earlier but with black and red in place of the blue and white.

"I had Harker do one of those ethereal imaging scans on Sam after I gave him the demon blood," Ketch said. "The black and red indicate demonic power. So your precious Sam Winchester isn't the saint everyone thinks he is."

"You can't do this to him," Castiel growled, crushing the picture between his hands as he glowered dangerously at Ketch. He started forward instinctively. "You son of a bitch—"

Fire ripped through him and he dropped to his knees with a scream, hands going to the collar again as it felt like it was burning its way straight through him.

Ketch didn't let up for a long moment and when he finally did, Castiel collapsed, bracing himself with his hands and panting for breath. Ketch stepped forward and reached down, grabbing a fistful of Castiel's hair and pulling his head up.

"I know you said you're not in the habit of begging," he said in a low, dangerous voice. That of a predator. "But I think we both know you'll change your tune right quick when it comes to others besides yourself."

He released him and turned toward the door. Castiel heard the click of the lock engaging after Ketch shut it behind him.

Only then did he haul himself up on his shaking legs to sit on the cot again. He bent over, putting his face in his hands as he breathed through the lingering pain. The collar pressed uncomfortably against his windpipe in this position, but he didn't move either. He couldn't believe he'd let this happen. After everything, all the promises he made, he'd still managed to end up exactly where Ketch and the Men of Letters wanted him, and Sam was suffering for it now too. He couldn't imagine how this was tearing his friend apart. Sam had struggled so long to overcome the demon blood addiction and the darkness—the uncleanness—he felt was inside of him because of it. Even if this wasn't his choice, this still had to be doing some psychological damage to him. Especially if Ketch had shown Sam the image of himself—and of course he had, the sadistic bastard. The thought of Sam physically seeing the darkness in himself from the demon blood made Castiel sick to his stomach. How could he have let this happen to one of his best friends, his surrogate brother?

"I'm so sorry, Sam," he whispered into the silence of his cell, and a tear slid down his cheek.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to stop messing up.