Okay, guys here is the one you have all been waiting for :P I hope you enjoy! Only one chapter after this one!

Chapter Ten

Avenging

Sam ended the call just as the door slammed open. He spun around, the relief he had just felt at hearing his brother's voice again dissolving instantly as Ketch appeared in the doorway along with two guards. Ketch strode over to Sam and the hunter stared him down before a leather dress shoe kicked him in the face. He collapsed to the side and the phone skittered from his hand.

"I knew that little play was a setup," Ketch snarled as he bent to retrieve his phone, then stepped on Sam's hand as the hunter made a grab for it. Ketch leaned over and gripped a fistful of Sam's hair, hauling him painfully to his knees, one of them smarting from the earlier fight. "Who did you call? Your brother? Dean's not going to be able to find you!"

Sam just stared at him, silent. That infuriated Ketch more and his lip curled. "Very well, it will serve you right to watch your brother die. But not before he sees what you are. A freak just like you always were. I don't think he'll be too pleased with his junkie little brother, will he?"

Sam swallowed hard, but didn't let his pain show on his face. Ketch leaned down, getting closer to him. "I wonder…shall I allow a demon to possess him? Force you to practice your exorcisms on your own brother? That might be incentive for you to do as I ask. Obviously, you throw your humanity out the window when the ones you care about are threatened, just like I anticipated."

Sam swung his other hand up then, holding Cas' feather like a dagger and stabbed it into Ketch' thigh. The Brit screamed and tore the feather from his leg, kicking Sam in the chest as he staggered back a step, calling to the guards. "Take him!"

Sam was hauled to his feet, but he was smiling. The more pain he could inflict on Ketch, the better.

He was hauled back to the lab, to the room he had been taken to the first day with the chair and the monitors. Dr. Herriot was there, preparing an IV drip that had a bag of blood hooked to it. Sam balked, his stomach rebelling at the sight.

"No," he ground out, digging his heels in, but the guards pushed him forward and threw him bodily into the chair.

Sam struggled as they strapped his down, this time forcing a strap across his mouth to form a gag. Sam growled past the strap helplessly as he was completely restrained. Ketch stood off to one side with a sadistic gleam in his eye as he watched.

Herriot took the IV needle and swiftly inserted it into Sam's neck. He jerked, and pulled at his restraints, but he was held too tightly and it was too late.

"This is the picture I'll make sure Dean sees when I drag him in here in chains," Ketch said smugly, stalking around Sam's chair. "And then I'll take him to see your precious halo, or what's left of it."

Sam's eyes tracked him, worry for Cas swelling in his chest and taking over the surge of the demon blood for a minute. Ketch saw the question in his eyes and smirked.

"You want to know my plans for your little pet?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, unfortunately, I damaged it, Lionel isn't very happy, but the wing will never heal well enough for him to do any more experiments, so we decided to take the angel's body for the sake of science instead. The vivisection will be in, oh, ten minutes, tops?"

Sam's eyes blew wide and he strained against the straps, shouting past the gag. Ketch just watched him with a pleased gleam in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Lionel will have it all recorded. If you're good, sometime I'll let you watch the video." He nodded to Herriot and they retreated to the door. "Now, be a good boy and take your vitamins."

Sam forced every bit of hatred he felt into his eyes as he stared Ketch down. The Brit met his gaze like a triumphant conqueror before he turned around.

The only thing that gave Sam comfort was that Dean was coming. He was coming and when he did, Ketch was going to die.

Sam just hoped it wasn't too late for Cas.

Castiel came to blearily. His body still felt like it had small charges surging through it from that last bout with the collar, his muscles twitching uncontrollably. It had been so much worse than any of the times before, he hadn't even realized it went up to a higher intensity.

Castiel forced his eyes open, hearing people nearby, and looked around frantically for Sam. But Sam wasn't there. Castiel was back in the lab, in the main room. He was once again lying on the cold metal table, but this time only had the manacles around his wrists and ankles. His shirt had been cut off and the table was cold against his aching back.

It was then he centered the ache to his left wing. He twitched the appendage, but found resistance that only caused more agony to rip through his body and grace both. He turned his head to one side and saw his wing; both of them had been spread over two long tables that had been pulled to either side of the slab to accommodate his mighty, yet battered wings. They had been strapped down too, and also had ropes hooked around points in his joints, and pulled taught so he couldn't move an inch. The position would have been painful in any case, but with his wings injured as they were it was agonizing. Every little movement he made pulled at them. He was unable to keep a noise of pain from escaping him but it was muffled by that wretched gag, which was so tight it was cutting into his cheeks.

Footsteps strode over, accompanied by a familiar voice. "Well, are we set?"

Castiel glanced over at Ketch who came to stand over him, a triumphant smile on his face. He was in his shirtsleeves, an apron tied over his clothes and Castiel felt a pit in his stomach at that sight. Ketch met his gaze, the proud conqueror, before he looked up at Lionel and his assistants who came over, pushing a cart that held many sharp and ugly objects. Castiel wriggled against the table before the pain in his wings stopped him.

"How are we going to proceed, sir?" Harker asked, setting up a camera, focused right on Castiel.

Lionel started putting on the rubber gloves, snapping them tight. "We will begin with the initial vivisection. We're going to be paying particular attention to how the angelic grace sustains the body during the procedure and taking notes on how it differs from the ones we have performed on demons."

Castiel's eyes blew wide at this casual news from the scientist about their plans for him. Ketch gave him another look, obviously enjoying the moment of his distress.

"Then we shall do the harvesting. The feathers will all be taken for the spells and potions research department, and the grace will be extracted as well once we no longer have need of a live specimen. Internal organs will be preserved for further testing. After which, I plan to keep the skeleton on display. It will be perfect for an extensive study into angelic anatomy."

"Oh yes, quite," Ketch said, as he fiddled with the tools Lionel had on the tray, picking up some kind of hook with a cocked eyebrow.

Castiel was trying his best not to panic, but the thought of being cut up for the sake of science—while he was alive…he actually hadn't thought it could get any worse than what he'd already been through but it seemed like he was being proven wrong. He struggled against his bonds despite the pain of his wing, but the sigils were locking him down and he had no more strength than a human.

"Should we anesthetize it?" Brady asked, shrewdly eyeing his movement.

"No," Lionel said. "It would take too much of any drug we have, and I want to see the body's true reactions instead of those slowed by drugs."

Castiel shuddered as the situation just got worse and worse. He had to find a way out of this, had to get to Sam, wherever he was. Had he been able to call Dean? Or had Ketch found out and stopped their plan before completion?

"May I?" Ketch asked as Lionel took up Castiel's angel blade from the tray.

"Very well," Lionel sighed, though didn't look happy about it. "Just don't make a hash of this. I want clean cuts."

Ketch inclined his head in acquiescence and took the blade. He pressed the tip of it to Castiel's chest just unto his collarbone and met the angel's eyes as he started to make the cut.

Castiel tensed, clenching his hands into fists as the blade sliced through his skin, creating a V before burning on its way toward his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to watch himself be cut open.

And then, from far away, the sound of an explosion came, a small tremble running through the room. Ketch pulled the blade away and Castiel cracked his eyes open again, seeing the incredulous looks on the faces of the scientists and Ketch.

"What the hell?" Brady asked.

But Castiel knew, and as he turned his own look toward Ketch, he could see the other man knew as well.

Ketch snarled, ripping his apron off and pulling a gun from the back of his belt. "Winchester."

Castiel closed his eyes in relief.

He knew he had been right putting his faith in Dean.

"It's just ahead on the right," Mom said, glancing between the map and the road as Dean gunned the Impala toward their destination. He hadn't let the speedometer drop below eighty the entire time and it was probably only a miracle that he hadn't been pulled over. Not that they could catch him. Baby always seemed to rise to the challenge when speed was needed.

Dean found the turn off, a dirt road off the highway. He had no idea where the Men of Letters had set up their new base, but it was definitely out in the middle of nowhere in a rural looking spot with lots of farmland and not a lot of people to ask questions.

Dust rose up as he tore down the road and then out if it rose what looked like a compound with sprawling buildings and gates and everything.

"There you are, you sons of bitches," he muttered, glancing at the dash clock. He'd made good time, a little under half an hour. He just hoped it was fast enough to save Sam and Cas from whatever Ketch and the British douchebags had planned for them.

"Dean," Mom said in warning, as he made no move to slow down. "What are you doing?"

"Making an entrance," Dean replied and drove straight for the gate.

There were two guards with machine guns stationed outside the chain link fence, and they shouted, pointing their guns at the approaching Impala. Instead of protesting, Mom simply rolled the window down, and leaned out, pistol in hand as she shot the two guards before they could get more than a couple shots off which missed the Impala completely.

Dean wished he had time to marvel at what a badass his mom was, but he could do that later. He just nodded to her, and they both braced as he punched the gas and Baby slammed through the gate. She might get a few scratches, but he almost thought he could detect a satisfied purr from her engine as she barreled through, and Dean spun her to a skidding halt next to the compound entrance.

More guards were coming out and Dean got off several shots, him and his mom both taking them down with little trouble. They obviously had not been ready for such an abrupt attack.

Dean hurried to the trunk, shuffling around to find weapons. He grabbed more clips for his pistol, then quickly belted a machete around his hips, and tucked his hunting knife into his belt as well. Mom equipped herself likewise, adding the pair of Enochian brass knuckles they had taken from Toni Bevel's attack bitch.

"How are we getting in?" she asked in a businesslike manner.

Something caught Dean's eye, half hidden among other weapons, purposefully tucked away, probably by Sam, so he wouldn't be tempted to use it. A determined grin broke out over his face.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmured as he picked up the grenade launcher. "I've been waiting to use you."

Mom's eyes widened. "I guess that will work."

"Damn straight," Dean said and loaded it, closing the trunk and then stepping out from behind the Impala to line up with the door. "Yippee-ki-ay, mother—"

The explosion knocked him off his feet, and debris rained down on him. He rolled to his knees, whooping.

"That's what I'm talking about!" he said, and turned to Mom who was emerging from behind the Impala.

"Let's go," he said and they hurried through the door they had created.

They tore through the compound. Anyone who tried to stop them was instantly taken down without remorse. These were not people, they were no better than the monsters they took down, in fact, in so many ways they were worse. Dean didn't feel anything no matter how many bullets he put through skulls or hearts. He only had one thing in mind and that was to save his family and God help anyone who got in his way—yeah, not likely.

He and Mom finally came out onto what looked to be a cellblock. Dean narrowed his eyes, wondering if Sam and Cas were there. There weren't any windows on the doors so he couldn't be sure.

"Sammy?" he cried. "Cas?"

"Sam? Cas?" Mom took up the call, glancing around.

There were some growls and calls from inside the cells, but nothing that sounded like it came from Sam or Cas. Dean's stomach was tying itself in knots. Where could they be?

Then the cellblock ended into another long hall. Dean saw the door for a laboratory. Remembering where Cas had been taken last time, he turned to his mom and nodded toward the door. He really hoped he wouldn't find them there, but the odds were that was probably exactly where they were.

Bracing himself for what he might find, Dean kicked in the door, gun raised.

Gasps sounded out, and Dean caught sight of three men standing around a table. They all turned with shocked expressions as he and Mom burst into the room. It took Dean only a split second to recognize that blond scientist who had hurt Cas before.

"You," he snarled, and put a bullet into the man's gut.

The guy screamed and collapsed to his knees, clutching his wound. His assistants scrambled for weapons, one holding an angel blade, but Dean and his mom simply shot them both point blank and they collapsed to the ground, next to the groaning scientist, taking out a tripod with a camera as they went.

"Dean," Mom breathed.

Dean finally tore his eyes away from the scientists and looked at the metal table, and its occupant. His stomach fell to his feet.

"Cas! Son of a bitch…"

There was too much to take in at once. He just stood there slack-jawed because the first thing he noticed was Cas had wings! Actual, feathery wings. The second thing he noticed was that those wing were tied to two tables in what looked like a very painful manner, and that Cas also was manacled to the metal slab, and there was a long y-shaped cut that ran from his collarbone halfway to his navel.

Between that and the tray of surgical instruments next to the slab Dean's mind finally locked onto the situation. His stomach heaved and it was everything he could do not to throw up.

He left Mom to care for Cas for the moment, and spun back around to the blond scientist, reaching down and yanking him to his feet by his lab coat.

"You bastard," he said in a low, dangerous voice as the man cried out in pain from having his wound jostled. "I told you last time, I warned you to stop this. And now you're here vivisecting angels!"

"It's for science! The betterment of all of us, surely you as a hunter must see that—all the knowledge we could gain!" the man gasped out. "And it's the first time I've had a real specimen to work with…"

Dean kneed him in his wounded stomach and the man gave a strangled scream. "I should have killed you before, and now, mark my words, you will die. But not yet. I want to it be as slow and painful as you were gonna make it for Cas. And that's right, his name is Cas. Castiel. Not halo, not angel, he's not an it and he sure as hell is not a specimen—he's my family!So say it." Dean shook the whimpering man. "Say his name!"

"C-castiel," the man whimpered.

"Now apologize!"

The man shook his head, still blubbering, and Dean shook him harder. "Now!"

He wrenched him over to the table and bent him over to meet Cas' eyes. The angel stared up at Dean, eyes wet with relief as Mary was pressing a wad of gauze to his wound to stop the bleeding.

"Say it," Dean snarled.

"I-I'm sorry," the man whispered, sobbing.

"Say his name!"

"I'm sorry, Castiel," the man cried. "Oh god, please don't kill me!"

Dean threw him bodily into the table of computers and the man fell still with a crash of equipment. Dean would deal with him later, right now he had more important things to worry about.

"Cas," he said quietly, touching his friend's shoulder. "Oh, god, I thought…." He couldn't say that he'd half expected Cas to be dead after what Sam had said. And now he saw exactly how close he had come to losing his best friend. Cas himself looked like he hadn't been expecting to survive either.

Mom was struggling to remove the gag from his mouth and when she did, Cas swallowed hard and smiled up at Dean.

"I knew you would come," he said.

"Damn straight." Dean said, eyes smarting. He squeezed Cas' shoulder, then moved it to the side of his neck as he saw the collar there. Anger washed over him. "What the hell?"

"Ketch has the key to this," Cas said darkly.

"Good," Dean replied. "Because I'm going after his ass next."

He grabbed a key from the tray beside the table and started unlocking Cas' manacles. The angel took over holding the gauze Mom had pressed to his chest once his hands were free and glanced pleadingly between them. "Please, my wings…"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said quickly, clearing his throat and he and Mom hurried to loose the huge feathery appendages. As he worked on the straps, he took in the awesome sight. Sure, he'd seen the shadows of Cas' wings when he mojoed up but he'd never really thought of them like this. They had real feathers, they were huge, and they were also in pretty bad shape even though that didn't seem to make them any less impressive. He started on the left one, and saw it was slightly crooked. As he pried some of the rope away from the wing to saw through it, Cas jerked and cried out involuntarily.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…" Dean tried, not really sure what he'd done or how to proceed. He wasn't even sure how sensitive an angel's wings were or whatever.

"Not your fault it's broken," Cas gritted out.

Dean felt sick. When he found the person responsible—and he had a good idea of who it was—he was going to break something of theirs too.

"Dean," Cas said after a few seconds. "You have to find Sam. He must be somewhere in here, and I don't know what Ketch has done to him."

Dean felt sicker still, and torn. He didn't want to leave Cas in this vulnerable state, but he also needed to make sure Sam was okay.

Mom decided for him. "I'll stay with Cas, get him taken care of. You go find Sammy."

Dean nodded, clapping Cas on the shoulder one more time before heading off deeper into the lab.

There were a ton of different rooms in there with all kinds of weird equipment, but he finally found one that was occupied. And it was occupied with his little brother.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean shouted as he burst into the room, heart in his throat.

Sam was strapped to something akin to a dentist chair, straps across his chest, legs, arms, even over his mouth, keeping him from moving. He had a few bruises but other than that, didn't look too bad apart from the IV needle sticking from the side of his neck.

Dean rushed over and pulled it out. Sam whimpered a bit and shifted, head lolling as much as the restraints allowed. Dean started to unstrap him with one hand, palming his brother's cheek with the other, trying to get him to wake up. Damn, he was burning up!

"Sammy, hey, it's me," he coaxed. "I'm here. Just like I promised."

Sam's eyes blinked open, unfocused, and pupils dilated. But eventually he focused on Dean as the elder brother kept his head steady and smiled down at him.

Sam licked his lips. "D'n?" he slurred.

"Yeah, little brother," Dean said gently, carding a hand through his—extremely greasy—hair. He didn't care though, he simply pulled Sam to him, as his brother collapsed in relief, and held him close, feeling Sammy shudder in his arms.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, surprising him.

Dean frowned. "For what, Sammy?"

Sam's shoulders jerked and Dean pushed him back to look into his face, seeing tears tracing down his cheeks. "Sam?" he glanced at the IV, frowning at the red color. "The hell they give you?"

Sam sucked in a breath and looked down at his lap. "Demon blood," he whispered.

Dean felt his stomach clench, oh, those dicks were going to pay big time.

"I—I used it," Sam continued wretchedly. "I used my powers. I didn't mean to, it just happened and I had to save Cas…"

"Hey, hey," Dean said and pulled him close again, hand tangling in Sam's hair soothingly. "Do not blame yourself. This is on those British bastards not you, you hear me? It doesn't matter. I know it wasn't your fault. Okay?"

Sam shuddered, taking a shaky breath. "It hurts so bad. I'm burning up."

"I know, we'll get you taken care of. Can you stand?"

Sam nodded and Dean heaved him up onto his feet. Sam leaned heavily against him, but he did manage to steady himself after a few steps. Dean didn't take his arm from around his shoulders though.

"Wait!" Sam said, stopping them. "We gotta get Cas!"

"Already done, Mom's with him," Dean assured him, pushing him into motion again.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief and soon they came out to the main room where Mom was helping Cas sit up carefully, his wings finally free.

"Sam!" the angel cried in relief as he saw the brothers emerge from the hallway.

"Cas!" Sam replied and broke from Dean's hold to stagger two steps and fold the angel in a relieved embrace. Cas returned it and Dean and Mom shared a smile before they joined the embrace too. Dean was somewhat surprised when Cas' good wing curled around them, and vaguely wondered if he always did that, even when his wings were incorporeal.

"How sweet."

Dean broke the family group hug and turned around to see Ketch standing in the doorway of the laboratory. He had a crooked, swollen nose between two black eyes and was walking with a limp.

That wasn't nearly enough for Dean.

"You son of a bitch," he snarled, striding forward, reaching for his gun.

Ketch smirked and touched something on his wrist.

Cas cried out and Dean whipped around to see the angel collapsed against Sam and Mom, clawing at the collar around his throat.

"Dean, the bracelet!" Sam yelled.

Dean whipped back around toward Ketch and saw a silver bracelet around his wrist, glowing with sigils. Dean simply shot him in the hand.

Ketch yelped and Dean followed it up with another bullet to the knee. Ketch collapsed with another cry and Dean bent over him, wrenching the bracelet from his wrist.

"Tell me how to get to the collar off," he demanded.

Ketch snarled up at him, so Dean slammed his heel into his wounded knee. "The collar, you son of a bitch!"

Ketch keened and finally reached out to tap the bracelet. Cas gasped and Dean turned around to see him tearing the collar off and throwing it to the ground.

Mom strode up to Dean and Ketch, her eyes stormy. Ketch glanced up at her.

"Ah, Mary. I didn't expect to see you here."

She slipped her hand from her pocket, revealing the brass knuckles. Ketch smirked.

"Those Enochian brass knuckles only work on angels, and sadly, I am no—"

Mom slammed her fist into his jaw and Ketch sprawled out on the floor, spitting out a tooth.

"Brass knuckles…brass knuckles," Mom stated with a shrug. "That was for hurting my boys."

"Ah," Ketch grunted as he hauled himself to his one good knee again. "Now what?"

"What do you think?" Dean demanded. "Now you die. Just like I promised."

"No, please," Ketch tried. "I can make sure no one comes after you."

Sam and Cas came over, supporting each other. Cas looked down at him coldly.

"Now who's begging on their knees?" he said.

Ketch snarled at him, but footsteps sounded out and Mick Davies hurried into the room, balking at the sight of the Winchesters and Dean's gun whipped up to point at him.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"What does it look like, you twit, help me!" Ketch pleaded. "Call the guards!"

"Most of them are dead!" Mick cried. "There's just research assistants left. I just got back to the compound myself and find it in chaos!"

"You can leave," Sam said.

"Sam," Dean protested.

"No," Sam shook his head, eyes stony. "He can live. Because he's gonna run back to England and tell the others that this 'recruit the American hunters' project is over. And if we ever see any British Men of Letters on our soil again, I think you can imagine what will happen to them."

Dean nodded in agreement. "What he said. So I'd pack your teabags, Mick. Haul ass before I change my mind."

"Davies," Ketch snarled.

But Mick was smarter than Dean gave him credit for. He turned tail and bolted.

The scientist Dean had gutshot groaned, trying to pull himself to his feet. Ketch glanced over at him.

"What do we do with them?" Mom asked.

Dean was torn between shooting them and making them suffer.

Sam spoke up. "This place has a whole zoo of captured creatures," he said. "I say we open the cellblock, leave them to clean up the mess." He gazed down unfeelingly at Ketch and the scientist. "It's not like they're going to run anywhere."

Dean smiled in satisfaction. "Yeah, and I bet those monsters you have locked up have a beef with you if you did experiments on them."

"No, please," the scientist pleaded.

Dean ignored him. He strode over to the dead assistants and grabbed Cas' angel blade from where one had dropped it on the floor and pressed it into his friend's hand.

"Thank you," Cas said. "But I need some help. I can't fit in the car with my wings…"

"But how do you…you know, put them back?" Dean asked.

Cas bit his lip, looking a bit worried. "They carved sigils into me to manifest them. If you cut it, I may be able to put my wings back."

"But Cas, your wing in broken, won't that hurt?" Sam frowned.

"We can fix it later. And you too." He and Sam shared a look that Dean didn't quite understand, and Sam finally nodded jerkily. Dean took the blade, turned to Cas' back and reluctantly pressed it into his friend's flesh. He cut through the sigil and Cas gasped, before his wings shimmered and then disappeared all together. Dean almost missed them already; they had looked oddly natural on Cas. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to the angel who pulled it on gratefully.

"Let's go," Dean said.

"You can't just leave us!" the scientist pleaded.

"Sure we can, dickbag," Dean said carelessly. "Watch."

Ketch snarled at him. "Winchesters," he spat as if it were a curse.

"That's right," Dean smirked.

"Oh, by the way," Cas said, and slammed the butt of his angel blade into Ketch's already broken nose. The man cried out and collapsed to the side. And Cas stepped over him to get out the door.

They hurried down the hall and Sam found the master switch for the cellblock. He hacked the system and suddenly the lights went red, alarms started blaring and the sound of doors unlocking and being shoved open rang out down the hall accompanied by ecstatic whoops and a plethora of howls and growls.

"Let's go," Sam said swiftly.

They hauled ass out of there, but not before they heard the screams as Ketch, the scientist, and any other person unfortunate enough to still be alive in there was set upon and attacked by the creatures they thought they were so good at hunting.

Dean clearly saw Sam and Cas' relief as they made it out into the fresh air and sunlight. Sam looked around at the ruin that was the entrance and frowned.

"What the hell happened here?"

Dean grinned. "Grenade launcher."

Sam huffed a laugh, and shook his head. But Dean could see he wasn't okay. He was shaking, his cheeks were flushed with fever and his eyes were still dilated. And Cas was pale and held himself as if he were still in a crapton of pain. Dean didn't know how it really worked with his wings, but he figured it still had to hurt even when they were incorporeal.

Long story short, he needed to get his brothers home and taken care of.

"Come one," he told them, herding them toward the waiting Impala. "Let's go home."