Chapter 8 – I own nothing. Especially not the characters and the recognisable dialogue.

Ok so this is the first part of on the head of a pin. Thanks to all who have reviewed, alerted and read again. Sorry for the delay – I was being rather stupid with the internet!

Feel free to let me know what you think and if you're still enjoying. Chapter 9 is written but needs polishing and 10 is over three quarters of the way done so hopefully we should be back on track with at least weekly updates.

It follows the episode so beware mentions of torture.

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Dean seemed tired. Which was odd because he had been in his presence not five hours ago and he knew that the hunter had gotten some sleep. Yet Dean still appeared to be exhausted.

He glanced at Uriel in the darkness as Sam reached for the light.

If it were up to him they would leave this until the morning.

And then the next morning and the next until Alastair talked out of sheer boredom. But Castiel's instincts were clearly compromised. He himself had seen what was happening to angels. They needed every soldier that they could get in this war.

"Winchester and Winchester," Uriel announced with authority. Castiel remained where he stood, hands comfortably in his pockets and gaze firmly on the wall. He would not give Uriel the excuse to put him in an uncomfortable position...

...well, at least one that was worse than this.

"Oh come on." Dean seemed more irritated than anything else.

"You are needed."

"Needed? We just got back from needed." Dean's voice deepened as his anger rose, clearly looking for a target to take it out on.

Finally it was an appropriate one for once.

"Now you mind your tone with me." Uriel was enjoying this far too much. But then what did he know? He was no longer trusted in anything that wasn't solely Dean Winchester. Though if Uriel bothered to turn and ask this was not the way that one convinced Dean to do anything.

"No you mind your damn tone with us," Dean barked as he marched forward with a murderous look on his face.

He still didn't look at Dean.

"We just got back," Sam said coming forward and holding out an arm in either defense or restraint. "From Pamela's funeral."

"Pamela, you know psychic Pamela?" Dean asked, in an accusatory tone as Castiel felt something in him stiffen. "You remember her. Cas you remember her, you burnt her eyes out." Dean sounded almost unhinged as he said it and the tone made him look over finally.

"Remember that? Good times!" Dean barked as Castiel watched him. Why couldn't this have been any other day? His charge was fragile as it was.

"Yeah," Dean added turning his attention back to Uriel, "then she died saving one of your precious seals, so maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freakin' minutes!" Dean yelled the last bit. Sam looked torn between joining in and telling Dean to calm down a little.

He knew how he felt. He shook that thought away as it entered his head. He was compromised due to the charge bond that he shared with Dean. It was all for the bigger picture. Uriel had to be right in this. Zachariah had to be right.

God was right.

"We raised you out of hell for our purposes," Uriel's voice rung out.

We? As he recalled Uriel had been far behind when he had reached Dean. Had been fighting off the demons with more gusto than was required.

He dared a look at Dean.

"Oh yeah and what were they again? What exactly do you want from me?"

"Start with gratitude," Uriel slowly drawled out.

He clenched his hands in his pockets. The spatting between Dean and Uriel was getting ridiculous.

"Dean we know this is difficult to understand..." he began, his tone perfectly matter of fact, yet somehow sounding just as tired as Dean had seemed.

"And we," Uriel turned around clearly to remind him of his place in this, "don't care," he said turning back and biting out each word.

Castiel looked away again, not even quiet managing to feel uneasy at this new dynamic between him and his brother. He pressed his mouth shut and managed to continue to stare ahead all the while knowing that Dean was staring at him in confusion.

That confusion thankfully kept him silent for a while.

"Now, seven Angel's have been murdered," Uriel started to explain, his tone all business. "All of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."

"Demons?" Dean asked

Uriel shifted in acknowledgment.

"How they doin' it?"

It was as if the hunter was asking for tips. That would have annoyed him but Uriel seemed to pass over it with unusual calmness.

"We don't know," Uriel admitted.

"But what do you want us to do about it?" Sam questioned, his voice sounding both annoyed and curious.

Castiel slowly looked at Uriel knowing that soon it would happen. Soon Dean would hear what he had to do. He had almost hoped that Uriel would allow him to break it to Dean if it had to be done anyway.

"...out of our league right?" Sam was saying.

"We can handle the demons, thank you very much." Uriel sounded peeved at the suggestion.

"Once we find who it is," Castiel added. He saw Uriel turn his head a little, but at least this time it wasn't quite such an obvious put down.

Dean looked almost amused. "So you need our help hunting a demon?"

"Not quite." Castiel risked coming closer, he could feel Uriel's eyes on him but his brother made no move to stop him. "We have Alastair."

It came as no shock to Dean, clearly he remembered what had happened while he had been in astral form. "Great," Dean offered. "He should be able to name your trigger man."

"But he wont talk. Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse." He watched Dean as he ducked his head a little.

"Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture, you guys are out of your league."

There wasn't any suspicion or dawning realization on his charge's face as he had half-hoped that there would be.

"That's why we've come to his student," Uriel calmly stated.

Dean's face contracted in shock. And fear. And Castiel glared at his brother.

"You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got."

The fear in Dean's eyes grew until he looked down, his face tight and drawn. Eventually he couldn't even keep it out of his face and he looked down, his expression lost in shadow.

"Dean," Castiel said gently and then inwardly frowned at the softness of the tone. His charge wouldn't respond well to it. "You're our best hope." His voice was stronger, harder. More forceful.

"No." All of Dean's desperation, determination and stubbornness went into that one word as he raised his head. The word quivered slightly with his fear.

And he knew, could feel how this terrified Dean.

"No way. You can't ask me to do this Cas, not this."

Castiel sucked in a deep breath at the sound of his charge coming so close to begging

This had to be wrong. Surely.

But Uriel stepped forward. Castiel switched his gaze from Dean to Uriel feeling fear himself. Because this was it. The moment he had so fervently had hoped would never happen since Zachariah had come to visit.

And he was just standing and watching while his charge was about to be pulled into his own personal hell.

"Who said anything about asking?" Uriel's voice slithered out.

Dean looked uncertain at that and looked at his brother. Uriel pulled Dean away and Castiel followed instantly.

Dean stumbled as they appeared in the old warehouse and looked around with the reactions befitting a hunter. Uriel rolled his eyes at Dean's shock and caught Castiel's gaze as if expecting him to share his sentiments. When he didn't, Uriel glared at him, a silent order to show Dean what was behind the door.

With an equally disapproving look at Uriel, Castiel moved and obeyed watching Dean and then dropping his gaze as he slipped past him and approached the door.

He stared in at Alastair who was breathing heavily, clearly exerting himself in the hopes of escape. He could feel Dean come up behind him and then in between Castiel and the door. There was a spike in fear from Dean as well as something else.

Disgust.

"This devil's trap is old Enochian." Castiel glanced at the back of Dean's head. "He's bound completely."

Dean stared ahead seemingly lost in something. He seemed to forcibly shake himself out of it. It was hard to tell who he was more annoyed at, the demon within or the angels outside.

"Fascinating. Where's the door?" he asked, pushing past Castiel.

Castiel stared at Alastair and didn't turn. But Dean could not leave. If nothing else there were demons outside of the protections that were likely waiting for such an opportunity.

"Where are you going?"

"Hitch back to Cheyenne, thank you very much," Dean said, not pausing in his stride.

Uriel appeared in front of Dean having moved faster than any human could possibly follow.

"Angels are dying boy."

"Everybody's dying these days," Dean snarled back.

For almost a second Castiel could have sworn he saw sympathy on Uriel's face, although that made no sense whatsoever.

"And I get it you're all powerful, you can make me do whatever you want but you can't make me do this." Dean turned back to Castiel with a pleading look.

He didn't reply immediately, though he suspected that Uriel wanted him to. Behind Dean, Uriel drew himself up, probably to threaten Dean again.

It wouldn't happen.

"This is too much to ask," Castiel started, walking forward. "I know. But we have to ask it." He came to an abrupt stop, his mind constantly asking him why.

Dean didn't break eye contact, his expression bordering on miserable to the point that it was too much to even look at. Slowly he turned back to Uriel.

"I wanna talk to Cas alone."

He snapped his gaze back to Dean in bewilderment. Uriel looked unwilling, almost amused by this.

"Really?"

"If you want a snowball's chance in hell of me going in there then you're gonna shag ass and let us talk."

He felt momentary happiness that Dean was asking for him, that Dean thought his opinion was worth weight. It vanished the second that he realized that if Dean got his way it would be up to him to persuade his charge to walk into that room. He almost wanted to beg Uriel to stay. It helped somewhat that Uriel's expression went from amused to stunned annoyance. It was satisfying but being smug seemed particularly unfitting of an angel.

As if the other emotions weren't.

Whatever it was that Uriel saw in Dean's face convinced him better than any words Castiel had used. He locked eyes with Castiel. And he felt dread.

"I think I'll go seek...revelation," Uriel said slowly. "We might have some further orders."

The unspoken order was clear. Convince Dean or suffer the consequences.

"Well get some doughnuts while you're out." Castiel let out an annoyed sigh as he saw Uriel look at Dean as if he were something he would dearly love to smite. And he knew it was his own fear that made him quick to anger and annoyance. Another way that indulging in emotions created weakness.

"Jelly," Dean ordered in that arrogant voice that he sometimes hated.

In truth Castiel could barely follow the conversation between Uriel and Dean. He could hear the words but it seemed as if the meaning and the way that the two responded to each other was an epic puzzle of some kind. He simply could not make himself focus on them for long enough. He glanced back at the door and for a split crazed second wondered if he could accidentally kill Alastair.

He was losing his mind. This was an order from high up, from God even. Who was he to know better? The fact that there was some part of him inside that didn't even care about that was testament to how badly he was failing.

It was God's will and he was an angel. There should be nothing more to it than that.

"This one just won't quit will he?" Uriel asked. Castiel drew himself out of his thoughts and gazed at Uriel uncertainly. Uriel started to chuckle. "Heaven help us, I think I'm starting to like you boy."

And with that he left.

How was he meant to do this? He had the hardest time trying to persuade Dean to follow orders he agreed with. Not that he didn't agree with this.... Dean turned around looking annoyed and he braced himself.

"You guys don't walk enough. You're gonna get flabby."

That had not been what he expected. He gave Dean a confused look and tried to work out where in the time that they had been in the warehouse this topic had come up.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I think Chuckles has a better sense of humor than you do."

Why on earth was Dean prattling on about inane things? He couldn't figure out the relation that Dean's comments had to each other or this situation. "Uriel's the funniest Angel in the garrison. Ask anyone," he offered.

Dean stared at him for a second and then moved his mouth as if working out how to say something before giving up and seemingly dismissing this bizarre conversation altogether. All of a sudden his expression grew serious and he walked over to him, questions in his eyes.

"What's going on Cas?"

He steeled himself, mind searching for reasons, to re-explain what Uriel had already said.

"Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"

It hadn't been the question he had expected. In fact part of him had counted on the fact that Dean would be so overwhelmed at what they were asking that he wouldn't even notice and that Castiel could prove himself before he ever did.

It was odd how Dean could be so observant about so many things and yet utterly clueless with others. He slid his eyes away from Dean and licked his lips, a clinical voice in his head telling him that humans did this when they were nervous and that this was clearly yet another bad habit that he'd picked up on.

"I um..." he looked down trying to decide how best to phrase this. How could he tell Dean that he was being punished because he tried to harm Alastair? Or because he took away Dean's nightmares and gave him warnings that he shouldn't? But if he didn't tell Dean, there was a chance that Alastair could use it against Dean when he entered that room.

Yet it seemed unlikely. What reaction would it have other than momentary shock? Alastair could not get free, and if Dean needed to he could come out and ask.

Besides, he was sure that Alastair had more than enough verbal ammunition to fling at Dean without mentioning his wayward angel. It was not the time to bring it up, yet Dean needed an answer. He deserved honesty in this matter given what he was about to ask.

"My superiors have begun to question my sympathies." He tried to remain calm, business-like.

"Your sympathies?"

"I was getting to close to the humans in my charge." He faced Dean straight on for the first time this night. "You."

Dean looked confused at that.

"You and your brother," he remedied, not sure if Dean wouldn't blame himself. "They feel I've begun to express emotion." He continued with a sigh, "Doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment," he admitted, thinking back to his wildly stupid plan earlier to simply kill Alastair and have done with it.

"So they knock you down the ladder and put Uriel in charge?" Dean's expression indicated that he didn't think much of that idea.

"He is a proud and able instrument of God." He felt as if he was reciting something.

"The demotion...doesn't it get your loincloth in a twist?" Dean seemed determined to inspire even more emotion in him.

"It is what is to be." Castiel turned away from him, attempting to quell the anger that Dean seemed to be encouraging and hoping that this conversation would be left alone.

He snapped his head up as he realized that would mean returning to the subject of Alastair.

Unfortunately Dean seemed to have gotten the hint and stepped past him to look through the window again. "Well tell Uriel, or whoever, you do not want me doing this. Trust me."

Castiel continued to stare ahead, not looking at Dean who was to his side. "Want it, no. But I've been told we need it."

In the long silence part of him had to wonder if he had been too quick to reply to Dean. He would not look, out of fear that Dean would see how reluctant he was with this.

"Cas, the things that I did, what I became," the pause was painful, "You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out."

He shook his head a little, wishing that this was weeks ago and that he could take the time to help Dean with this. But he couldn't.

God didn't want him to.

"You know what we're fighting for, dying for." They were the right words to say to convince Dean. "What Pamela lost her life for."

He could feel the guilt that washed through Dean like a wave, and though it hurt to continue, he knew he had to.

"You know what will happen if we fail."

He could feel Dean wavering and knew that he would say yes. And it hurt that he was the one swaying him.

"For what it's worth," he hesitated but he had done what he was meant to do. If nothing else he would never lie to Dean. "I would give anything not to have you do this."

He heard Dean let out a breath and then it was as if something snapped within his charge. The wavering became icy cold resolve, and he had no idea why. He could feel his charge's emotions, but the reasons behind certain feelings were not privy to him.

And it was the first time that this annoyed him.

"I'll need a few things."

He turned and faced the back of Dean's head as his charge looked ahead at the demon. Part of him wanted to ask if Dean was sure, but he dared not try his luck even further.

Besides, once Dean's mind was set on something it was pointless to get in the way.

"We have tools already."

Dean nodded, his shoulders tight. "You have...." He took a deep breath and then started again in a stronger voice. "You have a needle? Like for injections?"

Castiel frowned. "I will check." He hesitated. "You can leave that room whenever you need to."

Dean let out a snort. "He'll see it as a victory. That he's stronger."

Castiel said nothing, "He will use words to--"

"Yeah, I know. Not like I haven't faced him before."

He glanced at the knife of the table with some longing before shaking himself, fuming at his own weakness. If Dean could do this then so could he.

"You gonna check on the stuff?" Dean asked, sounding gruffer than usual. He still hadn't looked at him.

"You wish to be alone?"

There was a nod of the head in front of him. "Just for a moment."

Castiel turned and nodded. "I will be back."

He gathered the needle from a local hospital. When he returned Dean pressed a large bottle of water into his hands. "Bless it, Angel Boy."

He did so quietly and unnerved by the unusual silence from Dean. Finally he placed the water on the table.

Dean took the little trolley from him without comment and turned to the door.

"Cas?"

"Yes?" He asked, standing behind him about to open the door.

"Don't come in and don't look."

Dean finally met his eyes. He looked hard, all sharp and emotionless. But his eyes were blazing with so many emotions it was hard to look away.

Slowly he nodded and stood back as Dean went in to his own personal hell.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

For the longest time there was only the murmur of voices that allowed him to know that they were talking but not what they were talking about. He turned and sat on the edge of the table, determined to do this one thing for Dean, but inactivity was difficult. Especially when he didn't know what was being discussed or even if Dean had started his interrogation.

Then the scream started, a choked cry that certainly wasn't Dean. And he sat and clenched his hands in his pockets. Determined not to look, to see how it was that Dean managed to do what the punishers of heaven could not.

Metal and flesh clashed and still there remained the strangled gasps.

His head turned before he realized, and he stared as Dean stood in front of Alastair, his back to Castiel and Alastair cried out, wriggling and writhing against his confinement.

Dean was unmoved. He could see it, feel it.

He looked away knowing now why Dean had not wanted him to look.

Slowly the screams died away to desperate pants. It started up again, the sound of torment ringing, and every sound that Alastair let out was further than heaven had gotten.

And it was the silences that unnerved him. The slight tenor of voices that made him clench the table where he stood. Because every time it happened was a time that Alastair was fighting back, was potentially turning the tables on Dean.

He glanced in once more to see that Dean was fine, he simply looked as if he was changing tools. Slowly he stood from where he had been seated for what felt like forever.

How could this be right?

He had caught a look at Dean looking blank and cold and uncaring. It was as if watching a body possessed. He had been charged with this man's safety and soul and yet he stood outside safe, unharmed while his charge....

He moved to the end of the table and bent over it, hands wrapping around the edge of the table. It was hard to tell what was more painful, the fact that he was inwardly rebelling or that he had to listen to Dean lose more and more of himself.

Amidst the cries, the lights started to flicker. His first worrying thought was that Alastair was somehow freeing himself.

But then a presence behind him alerted him it wasn't the case, and thankfully, finally, there was something else to do other than listen and wait.

Even if it was facing a former sister and someone that he was ordered to kill on sight.

"Anna," he said without much inflection. He felt almost exhausted by this day.

"Hello Castiel."

He attempted to center himself and turned to see the same human that had exploded in front of him months ago.

"Your human body." He frowned trying to work out how she had managed that before deciding that he actually didn't care that much.

"It was destroyed, I know. But I guess I'm sentimental," she said, walking forward to him. "Called in some old favors and...." She trailed off leaving the obvious unsaid.

He thought about turning, turning to ask her what to do, to kill her, to simply toss her out.

Instead he restrained himself, his apathy seeming to grow with every passing moment that Dean was in that room.

"You shouldn't be here. We still have orders to kill you." He looked back at the window. He had broken his promise to Dean half a dozen times now.

He wondered if it was something that he should lie about.

"Somehow I don't think you'll try." She walked around him and towards the room. "Where's Uriel?"

And damn her, she sounded far more at peace with herself than she should, so much more confident then he, who was still an Angel of the Lord.

"He went to receive revelation." He watched her walk to the door and looked at the window. She almost blocked his view as she watched too. They could both see Dean almost cradle Alastair's head in a way that was utterly unsettling.

And Alastair, exhausted and pained though he was smiled at the sight that shook Castiel to his core. Anna shook her head as Alastair spat out blood, his gaze challenging.

She turned back to him, "Why are you letting Dean do this?"

Letting?

He shifted and avoided her look, but instead caught sight of Dean with a bloody instrument in his hands and heard the strangled gasps of Alastair. The sight made him look away.

"He's doing God's work." He stepped into the shadows as if it would offer him some protection from her tormenting and tempting questions.

"Torturing? That's God's work?"

It had to be.

"Stop him Cas, please, before you ruin the one real weapon you have."

He dug his hands in deep. It was if she was repeating his thoughts from earlier. Had he really sunk as low as she?

No wonder his superiors had questioned his judgment if he sounded like a fallen angel.

"Who are we to question the will of God?" He hated that it wasn't what Uriel would have done or any other angel. He hated even more that part of him wanted her to give him a good and solid answer.

"Unless this isn't his will?" Anna replied, not as strong as he had hoped.

"Then where do the orders come from?" he asked, feeling a little disappointed and all too aware that they were about to go in circles.

He'd had the thoughts enough himself. It changed nothing. The orders came from high, and faith was akin to trust. Without that he was as lost as Anna.

"I don't know, one of our superiors maybe? But not Him."

Alastair's gasping interrupted her and he looked away. She came closer.

"The father you love, you think he wants this? You think he'd ask this of you?" He looked away, wondering how she knew how hard this was for him to listen to and watch. "You think this is righteous?"

Dean had remained righteous, even in and after hell. Perhaps this was. But it felt so utterly and completely wrong. Dean felt so wrong.

But maybe it was Anna trying not to be found. For all he knew she could be the one telling the demons how to kill angels. And while something told him that it wasn't so, he knew his own judgment wasn't worth anything at the moment.

"What you're feeling," she said, slithering closer, "It's called doubt."

He knew that. Knew that it was that word which his superiors feared, knew it was that reason why he had been demoted. Another cry drew his attention to the window.

He knew that Dean Winchester was causing it and he couldn't bring himself to blame the human and his annoying, stubborn ways for it.

Through the window, he saw Dean stab Alastair with a flick of his wrists that removed skin rather than plunging in deep. He shut his eyes against it. When he opened them Dean was reviving the demon with holy water.

He hated himself for having doubts. But he hated himself for what his faith was doing to Dean.

"These orders," Anna said as she wrapped her hand around his causing him to snap out of his thoughts, "Are wrong and you know it." He looked from their joined hands to her earnest face. "But you can do the right thing. You're afraid, Cas." He looked away, annoyed at the nickname coming from her mouth. "I was too." Her hand spasmed and grabbed his wrist more firmly. "But together we can--"

"Together...." He looked down. With her. Anna who had caused Dean so much upheaval, who had appeared here and seemed more eager to make him disobey than actually stop Dean as she said. She was strong enough. If she wanted to, she could escape with Dean or at least risk it. He couldn't hurt Dean and she could leave whenever she needed to.

She wanted an ally.

This wasn't about Dean. Or at least not fully. It couldn't be, it didn't make sense. If she took Castiel with her then she would have Dean and not one single angel could ultimately harm Dean, not when they needed him so.

She wanted protection.

Anna was scared and alone and not that strong at all.

And for all her declarations that it was wrong to let Dean in that room she was too selfish to be the one to stop it. If it wasn't ordered by God, he would be in that room with a knife in his hands, whether Alastair was chained or not.

He looked at her and yanked his hand away as if he had been burned.

"I am nothing like you," he snarled at her, his earlier feelings of frustration and impotence turning to anger. This time he circled her. "You fell."

I am not that selfish.

"Go," he ordered her. He walked to the window without flinching away from the sight for the first time.

"Cas," she said quietly, pleading.

He turned back, "Go."

And so she did, the sound of her wings mixing with the cries behind him. He bowed his head and prayed for Dean to have strength in this.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After a while, the usual rise and fall of the cries stopped. Yet he ignored it. Dean had proven himself to be far more competent at this than his superiors and he had suspected. Far stronger than he had realized.

And strength like this would be good if Dean was going to face what was ahead. It was the same strength that he would need. Because the others in his garrison didn't care. Not when there was a bigger picture.

He was sent to protect Dean. He would be his charge's voice and protection against whatever was out there. And to remain Dean's angel he had to follow orders, whether he agreed with them or not.

And how this had happened he had no idea. But the best he could believe was that God had sent him to pull Dean out, had put him in his care. And so he had to continue that duty no matter what.

It was the only order he could really have any faith in now.

There was the wound of flesh hitting flesh and something dropping. He continued to stare down at the table.

"I'll see you back in class, bright and early...."

He turned in horror as the gleeful shout reached his ears. Dean was against the rack, Alastair holding him against it with one hand choking Dean. He moved as fast as he could, faster than the clearly concussed Dean could follow and grabbed for the knife.

He grabbed Alastair's arm turning him around and plunged the knife deep. Dean dropped to the floor, his face bloody and body without fight. With fury, Alastair pushed him away leaving Dean far too close to Alastair for comfort.

The knife flickered where it was but he had clearly just missed the heart. Alastair stared down at it with annoyance, his power showing as he seemed to feel little pain.

"Almost," he muttered. He looked up with a jolly smile. "Looks like God is on my side today."

Castiel didn't reply but held out his hand and twisted the knife hoping that it was close enough. Alastair's lips thinned in pain as he struggled forward. Fighting Castiel's power Alastair reached down and pulled the blade out with shaking hands that strained with effort.

Alastair recovered surprisingly quickly and lunged at Castiel. It was a relief that finally he had managed to get the demon far enough away from Dean that he could concentrate on the fight properly. He hit him again and again feeling that satisfaction that had hit him last time. In the split second that he had Alastair down on the ground, he wavered, remembering Uriel's reaction.

Alastair took advantage of it, tackling him. Castiel re-focused only to find his back pierced by the peg on the wall behind him. Alastair effectively hooked him on to it and while it didn't hurt, it ensured that Castiel couldn't move away.

Alastair's hand fastened against his throat with determination.

"Like roaches, you Celestials," Alastair announced. Weakly, Castiel struggled but there was no breaking free. "I really wish I knew how to kill you, but all I can do is send you back to heaven," he cooed.

He struggled in the demons grasp as he started to chant. Dean was motionless on the floor, his breathing labored and shaking. Castiel's own vessel was bloody and would die without him. He could not leave like this. There would be nothing left when he got back. Alastair would make sure of that. As the chanting increased he lost more and more of his grip on the body he inhabited. Slowly the limbs fell limp as death started to creep upon his vessel.

He was being forced out and he could see the flare of light reflected in Alastair's face as he became more and more helpless. The most he could hope for was that he would burn Alastair as he left and that Dean would remain unconscious.

And then there was no pressure, no chanting and nothing keeping him upright. He swallowed as the body limply sunk to the floor and his grace was finally allowed to heal the dying flesh.

"Who's murdering the Angels? How are they doing it?"

Sam Winchester. Slowly Castiel knelt up and looked up at Dean's brother who looked furious, strong, and in control. His hand splayed out in front of him and easily pinning Alastair to the wall.

How?

The world was seeming less and less dizzy with each passing second and the body was slowly coming back under his control. But still Sam stood with so much more power than he should have and without even a glance at Dean's unresponsive form.

And he was asking about the angels?

Slowly he stood as Sam demanded answers. Was Sam unaware that this was the demon that had tortured Dean, that had somehow broken free and just tried to kill his brother?

Slowly the youngest Winchester clenched his fist causing Alastair's eyes to roll back into his head and his words started to choke as he swore that he didn't know.

"Right!" Sam declared clearly not believing him.

Castiel dragged his gaze from Alastair, not moving from his spot. He looked at Sam who seemed impassive and cold. Alastair choked out more words that were indistinguishable to Castiel but Sam clearly understood.

"I don't believe you." Sam said quietly, his entire focus on the demon. Castiel looked down at Dean who lay far too still.

"Lilith," Alastair struggled out, "Is not behind this."

That redirected his attention and he looked at Alastair questioningly as the demon continued with glee, "She wouldn't kill seven Angels, she'd kill a hundred, a thousand."

Sam released whatever power had been harming Alastair and the demon panted with relief and and then with boredom.

"Oh, go ahead. Send me back. If you can," he dared.

"I'm stronger than that now. Now I can kill."

Sam's voice was...he turned. Sam was smiling. He watched with horror and disbelief as Sam flattened his hand and a look of satisfaction appeared on his face as Alastair begun to crackle and howl. His mouth kept twitching into a smile.

This was wrong. Today he had watched both Winchesters step into this room and neither seemed human while in it.

As the empty body slumped down, the look of surprise still printed on its face, Sam seemed to come back to himself a little. He glanced at Castiel almost uncertainly.

He could do nothing but stare back? This was not how the influence of angels was meant to affect people. What was happening to these humans?

Sam's eyes found the body and he stared at it. "He was already dead?" he asked, sounding very young all of a sudden.

Castiel looked down at the body, uncertain, trying to work out if the human Alastair had possessed would have survived an exorcism or if Sam had killed him too. But as he looked, his gaze slid from the dead body to the other heap on the floor.

"Dean."

He walked forward and held out a hand, turning his charge over gently. Dean's face was a mess of blood and swelling.

"What happened?" Sam asked breathless and right beside him.

Castiel shook his head. "He needs medical attention. Is there a hospital nearby?"

Sam shook himself as he gingerly touched Dean as if to assure himself that his brother was really there. "Um...maybe. I think I passed one...." He looked around and then shook his head, "I can't call an ambulance, they'll see all this."

John Winchester's influence was clearly hammered into his boys. "Go."

Sam nodded and tried to pick his brother up, but the power it had taken to kill Alastair was taking it's toll.

"Go. I will send him to the hospital. You can find him there."

Sam looked up, "Send me with him."

Castiel looked heavenward.

"Please." Sam leant forward. "You can't just throw him into the nearest--"

"I do not throw," Castiel snapped.

"You did this. You fix it." Sam yelled at him his temper rising despite his obvious exhaustion. Castiel looked down at his charge, his swelling features and troubled face.

"As you wish then."

And then both of the humans were gone and he was left with silence.