Chapter 10

The angel's next visits took him everywhere from a small library in Missouri, to a deep woods Wendigo hunt, to Sam's middle school science fair. He continued to bounce erratically around Dean's timeline, wondering if there would ever be an end to the constant travel. While he enjoyed spending time with the boys, he wished he could be doing something constructive for them, or feel like he was getting any closer to the versions of them that he had lost.

But his next destination helped to distract him from his agitation.

It took Castiel a moment to realize why the surroundings that had appeared around him were so familiar. But as he took in the dock he was standing on, stretching out into a serene lake surrounded by whispering trees, he remembered. He had been here once in Dean's dream, what seemed like an eternity ago. The colors had been more muted then, the air more somber, but it was definitely the same place. He had not realized that it was a real location.

Dean was sitting at the edge of the dock, his feet dangling in the water.

"And here I thought this day couldn't get any better," he said, and Castiel could hear the smile in his voice even though the young man did not turn around.

"Hello Dean," he said, walking forward to sit beside the hunter.

Dean leaned in for a kiss, which told Castiel quite pleasantly that this was after his nineteenth birthday, and the developments thereof.

"Hello, yourself," Dean said when they broke apart.

"When is this?" Castiel asked, glancing around once more. He could see a small house on a small hill in the distance, but not much else.

"July 17th, 1998," Dean rattled off. "We're in Colorado. Dad's on one of his mysterious solo outings, Sam's at summer camp, and I have the day to myself."

"This seems like a pleasant spot," Castiel remarked.

"Yeah, it's nice. Some family owns the house up the hill, but they have a beach house for the summer, so we're, uh, squatting."

"I see. Well, it seems like someone should make use of the house."

Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, that's what Dad tells Sam every time the kid worries about it. Usually works."

He glanced down at Castiel's feet, which the angel was carefully keeping out of the murky water.

"It won't burn you, you know," he said with a smirk. "Relax a little; stick your feet in. It feels nice."

Somewhat dubiously, Castiel removed his shoes and socks for the first time since his car accident. Dean showed him how to roll up the cuffs of his pants to keep them dry, and then he cautiously lowered his feet into the water.

He smiled at the surprisingly pleasant sensation of the cool water swirling over his skin. Dean grinned at him.

"I told you," he said, bumping the angel's shoulder with his own.

"Yes, your suggestions have gotten better since the licorice incident," said Castiel, wanting to hear the rare and beautiful sound of Dean's mirth. He was not disappointed.

"Let it go, dude," Dean laughed.

"I'm not sure you appreciate how traumatic that experience was for me."

Dean just shook his head. Then his face took on a mildly alarming speculative look.

"If you're still open to suggestions…"

"What?"

"I happen to know for a fact that this lake is great for swimming."

"Why is that relevant?"

"I'm suggesting that you go swimming with me, Cas."

"For what purpose?"

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"For fun, Cas. You do know what fun is?"

Did he? Castiel had been enjoying his time with the Winchesters. He supposed that counted as fun. But while he had gone swimming before, it had never been for pleasure. Then again, he had never tried eating for pleasure before he met Dean, and he had liked that.

"Okay," he said.

He stood, about to leap into the water when Dean stopped him with a chuckle.

"Whoa there, buddy," he said. "You might want to lose the threads first."

Castiel glanced down at his clothes, then back up at Dean.

"Why?" he asked. "I can dry them off afterwards."

Dean just rolled his eyes again.

"Come on," he said, tugging at the trench coat until Castiel let him remove it. "You are gonna do things like a normal person for once."

Castiel relented, shedding his clothes until he was down to his underwear. Dean did the same, then glanced back at the angel.

"Huh," he said.

"What now?"

"Nothing. I just figured you for more of a briefs guy."

Castiel had no idea what that meant, so he elected to ignore it.

"Am I allowed to get in the water now?" he asked, and Dean smirked at the grumpiness in his tone.

"Be my guest."

The angel stepped unceremoniously into the water, head dipping momentarily beneath the surface. He looked back up at Dean, who was still watching him from the dock.

"How's the water?" Dean asked.

"Wet."

"Good enough for me," the young man said with a grin.

He jumped in, and Castiel strongly suspected that the tremendous amount of water splashed on him was deliberate. Dean surfaced, grinning at the angel.

"Well?" he asked as he treaded water. "What do you think?"

In truth, Castiel was rather indifferent to the swimming. Yes, the water felt nice on his skin, but he still did not see the purpose of it. But watching Dean swim was another matter entirely. The young man's face was light and happy, and that was more than enough for Castiel.

"It's pleasant," he said contentedly.

Apparently Dean took that as a challenge, because he felt the need to spray Castiel with as much water as possible. The angel felt perfectly justified in using his powers to send a tidal wave crashing into Dean as retaliation.

The two of them stayed in the water until Dean got tired, and then returned to the dock, where Castiel dried them both off with a touch of his fingers. They redressed, and then Castiel followed Dean into the house, where they watched movies together until Sam came home.

ooooooooooooo

Castiel's ears were assaulted by the loud bangs of gunfire when he landed next. He was instantly on high alert, but relaxed a moment later when he looked around and realized that he was at a shooting range. He could see Dean and John at one of the stations, the older hunter reaching down to correct his son's form. Sam was sitting a few feet away, looking utterly bored. None of them had seen the angel yet.

Castiel was about to approach Sam in order to keep him company, but then he felt a terrifyingly familiar presence behind him.

He whirled around, letting his angel blade drop into his grasp.

Uriel raised his hands peacefully.

"Easy there, Castiel. I mean you no harm," he said.

Castiel did not believe it for a moment, but he also did not want to start an angelic fight a dozen yards from the Winchesters. He realized that Uriel had made himself invisible, so he did the same. The angels could still see each other though.

"What are you doing here, Uriel?" he asked, every muscle in his body tense.

"A question I should be asking you…Cas." The other angel's tone was mocking as he used the familiar nickname. "I always knew that you were a human lover, but this…I have been watching you, Castiel. I know how often you visit your pets."

"They are not my pets," said Castiel angrily.

"What then? Your friends?"

Castiel bristled at the disdain and contempt in Uriel's voice.

"You know nothing of friendship. And I don't owe you an explanation."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong," said Uriel. "I know that you are not the Castiel of now. You came to the past with Anna. And she told me that these humans you have been associating with would be the ones to kill me in the future."

"And then Michael killed her. What does that tell you? She was lying, Uriel. The Winchesters are not a threat to you. But I will be, if you even try going anywhere near them."

Uriel raised his eyebrows.

"You would fight your own brother to protect them?"

Castiel snorted. As if Uriel had any right to call him brother. He vividly remembered the other angel, sword raised to take his life, simply because Castiel would not ally himself with Uriel's treacherous cause.

"In a heartbeat," he answered firmly. "Now leave."

Uriel shook his head.

"What happened to you, Castiel?" he asked. Castiel said nothing, and Uriel sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'll just have to find out the long way. I'll be watching you closely."

Castiel simply stared him down until he left with a disgruntled ruffling of feathers. The only evidence of his visit was the feeling of extreme disquiet in Castiel's gut.

Other angels were noticing him, and that could not be a good thing. There was a reason that angels did not casually walk the earth. They made waves, they drew attention. And the last thing Castiel wanted was to draw more supernatural attention to the Winchesters. They had enough on them as it was.

Castiel resolved to keep a closer watch over his family, prepared to issue more threats if need be. He decided to keep his distance for this visit, watching invisibly as Dean's lesson ended and John beckoned the reluctant Sam forward for his turn with the gun.

As soon as he was well rested enough, he took off again.

ooooooooooooo

When Castiel landed this time, it did not take him long to realize that something was terribly wrong. He was in another motel room, and there was a taint of evil in the air that would always be familiar, even though he had not felt it for months.

"I'm not going to ask you again, Johnny," said an unfamiliar male voice. "Where is he?"

"I don't know who you mean!" The other voice came from a man that Castiel recognized as John Winchester. The hunter was clutching a small and terrified Sam in his arms, staring up at a demon.

"The angel, you idiot!" the demon shouted. "His stench is all over your brats. Now tell me where he is, or I will gut your pretty little boys."

Castiel had heard enough. He threw himself at the demon, bringing his hand to its forehead and screwing his face up in concentration. He felt the familiar rush of holy power rise up within him, and the demon's essence burned away into nothing, the human shell it had been inhabiting dropping to the ground. Unfortunately, Castiel dropped along with it, having used more energy than he really had to spare.

He did not lose consciousness though, which meant that he was aware of the rather sinister gun that John Winchester was pointing in his direction.

"Who the hell are you?" he shouted. "How did…? That was a demon. What are you?"

Castiel struggled to his feet and stepped forward.

"John Winchester," he greeted. "I am a friend. You need not fear me."

He did not think that he looked particularly threatening at the moment anyway. He moved forward to check on Sam, who was cowering on the bed. If that demon had done something to him…

"How do you know my name?" asked John angrily. Castiel ignored him, not having the patience for explanations. "Stay the hell away from my boys!"

There were three loud bangs, and Castiel staggered to a halt, staring down at the holes that bullets had just torn in his chest. He sank to his knees, gasping.

"Dad, wait!" Castiel could barely hear Dean's young voice over the sudden roaring in his ears. "Cas saved us."

John stared down at his son for a moment, then glanced back at Castiel, who was trying to will the holes in his chest to heal. The angel was terrified by how weak he had gotten. A year ago, those bullets would not even have penetrated his skin. Now he could not even get the blood to stop flowing from his chest. But at least he was not dead, which could not have been said for most humans with his injuries.

"Ah, that went well," he muttered, poking angrily at his slowly shrinking wounds. "Like father like son."

Actually, Dean had stabbed Castiel as well as shot him. The angel really hoped that John did not try the same thing. The bullet wounds were unpleasant enough.

"Dean, stay with Sammy," John barked, not taking his suspicious gaze from Castiel.

He grabbed the angel by the arm, hauling him up and dragging him outside. Castiel did not resist, partly because he did not have the energy, and partly because he did not want to fight with John in front of Sam and Dean, who had suffered enough trauma for one day.

"Talk," demanded John once he and Castiel were out of the boys' hearing range.

"I'm an angel of the Lord."

"I don't believe you."

"Then you are even more close-minded than I thought," said Castiel impatiently. "You just saw me smite a demon in front of you, and survive three kill shots to the chest. What more proof do you need?"

"Maybe demons can kill other demons like that. And they can sure as hell survive gunshot wounds. I know that one from experience."

Castiel sighed.

"I don't suppose you have any holy water on you?" he asked. The test had been enough to convince Bobby Singer.

"If I had holy water on me, do you think I would have been having problems with that demon in there?"

Castiel was surprised by John's carelessness. Then again, judging by his evident youth, this was fairly early in his hunting career.

"Then perhaps you could recite an exorcism," he suggested.

John considered that, then nodded. He spoke the words from memory, and when Castiel remained unfazed through it, his face slackened in amazement. Then it tightened up again in anger.

"So that demon was after you," he hissed. "You've been hanging around my sons, and a demon almost killed us to get to you."

John's words hit Castiel with numbing force. He was right.

"I'm s-"

"No! I don't want apologies; I want an explanation. Just being an angel isn't good enough. I want to know who you are and why you've been around my boys."

"I'm a friend of theirs."

"Bullshit. Dean is nine, Sammy is barely five; they don't have friends your age, and they sure as hell don't have friends who are supernatural creatures."

"I suppose you're right. But I know them from the future, when they are considerably older."

John just stared at Castiel for a moment. Then he snorted.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" he asked.

"Not really, but it's the truth."

"You can't be…" John blinked, and his face paled inexplicably. "Wait. Dean called you Cas. Is that short for something?"

"My full name is Castiel," the angel told him.

John swayed, then leaned against the wall of the motel, rubbing a hand across his face, his eyes wide and staring at nothing.

"Does that mean something to you?" Castiel asked. He supposed it was a foolish question. John's face made it painfully obvious that it meant something.

"Mary…" John said softly. He looked up at the angel. "You knew my wife."

"Yes," said Castiel, wondering where this was going.

"She told me about you."

"She did?" asked Castiel, surprised.

"Well, not exactly. She just…every once in a while she would mention that the boys had a guardian angel. I didn't think she meant it literally, so I indulged her. It was a nice story to tell Dean when he got scared. But then she got in a car accident. Just a small one, nothing serious, but it scared her, reminded her that she was mortal, I guess. She told me that if anything happened to her, I could trust a man named Castiel. She wouldn't say anything more, but…she was talking about you?"

Castiel bowed his head, shame rushing through him. Mary had trusted him that much, and he had still let her down, still let her die. But not her boys though. Never her boys.

"Yes," he said softly. "She was talking about me."

"How long have you been watching my family?" John whispered. "How long have you been creeping in the shadows?"

"On and off since Mary was pregnant with Dean."

Castiel was utterly unsurprised by the punch that John landed on his face. He probably deserved it. John grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him closer.

"What the hell kind of guardian angel are you?" he asked angrily, brokenly.

"John…"

"I watched her burn on the ceiling, Castiel! Where were you then?"

"You must understand, my power over time is imprecise," the angel said. "My visits are usually only a few hours long, and none of them corresponded with the night that Mary was killed. I had no way of being there to protect her."

"You could have warned her!"

"Yes. I could have."

And though Castiel had been meeting John's gaze throughout the entire conversation, he had to look away at that point. The hunter released him abruptly.

"So why didn't you?" he asked, and the fight had left his voice, though not the anger and sadness.

"Because it would not have achieved anything. Words alone would not have been enough to save Mary Winchester."

"Why?"

"Because the power of destiny is stronger than any words I could have given her."

Dean had proven that with his first trip back in time. Destiny and fate were so strong in the lives of the Winchesters that Castiel was amazed he had managed to change as much as he had. But averting the catalyst that shaped the lives of Sam and Dean? Castiel knew that he had no chance. But he had not even tried.

John ran a hand through his hair, looking distraught and scared.

"Why her? Why us? Why do we matter?" he asked.

Castiel sighed.

"I can't tell you that," he said regretfully. "But I can tell you that your sons are very important, and there are many…interested parties."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you need to be more careful," said Castiel. "Do you know a man by the name of Robert Singer?"

"Singer? No, I've never heard of him."

"He's a hunter, a very knowledgeable one. He will teach you more about what you need to know. And he is trustworthy. The Dean and Sam that I know consider him to be family."

John looked surprised at that.

"Yeah? How far in the future did you say you were from?"

"So you believe in time travel now?" asked Castiel, impatient with this conversation. John scowled at him.

"I'm keeping an open mind," he hedged.

"I came originally from the year 2010, but I've traveled considerably since then."

John blew a breath out through his nose, leaning against the wall again.

"And they're…they're good, they're okay?" he asked. "The boys, I mean."

Castiel sighed. Mary had asked him the same question, but he was still no better prepared for it.

"I do my best to look out for them," he said, and John raised an eyebrow.

"You care to elaborate on that?" he invited.

"I have to be careful, John," Castiel told him grimly. "Time is fluid and fragile, and too much foreknowledge is dangerous."

John did not look happy about that, but he nodded. Castiel was simply glad that he had not asked about his own fate. He did not relish the idea of telling John that his soul would spend a hundred years in hell under the attention of its most proficient torturer.

"Fine, but tell me this. If you could tell me to find this Robert Singer, then can you tell me what killed my wife?"

"I can tell you that you will find out eventually."

John grimaced in frustration, but he did not press further, for which the angel was grateful. Castiel glanced at the door to the motel room.

"Your sons must be upset," he said gently. "You should go to them."

John winced.

"Yeah. God, I don't know how I'm going to deal with Sammy. He's only five; he doesn't know about any of this. Didn't know."

Castiel was impressed by John's desire to protect his son's innocence.

"I might be able to do something about that," he offered.

"Really?"

"Yes. Angels have a certain power over the human mind. I would be able to wipe the encounter with the demon from Sam's mind. He would not remember it."

"Castiel, I don't think…"

"Your son has a hard road ahead of him, John," Castiel said gravely. "Let me give him a few more years of innocence."

The hunter looked torn.

"Would it hurt him?" he asked.

"Not at all."

"What about Dean?"

"Dean is old enough to choose whether or not to keep these memories."

John sighed, and Castiel could see the crushing weight in his eyes.

"Tell me something, Castiel," he said. "Why did my wife trust you so much?"

"Because this is not the first time I've helped your family, John. Do you remember when Dean was an infant, and he fell gravely ill?"

John's eyes widened.

"That was you? You healed him?"

"Yes."

"The doctors said it was a miracle…"

"It was. I just happened to be the deliverer of it. Your wife was there. She saw me save your son, saw that it nearly cost me my life."

"It almost killed you? Why?"

"As I mentioned before, I am not at full strength. I had to use my own life force to heal Dean, and it drained me dangerously. Mary knew what I was, and how devoted I was to protecting her sons. That is why she trusted me, and why you can trust me as well."

John looked so lost that Castiel felt a surge of pity for him.

"Do it," the hunter said eventually. "Help Sam."

Castiel nodded, and then went to pull the motel door open. John stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Wait," he said.

"What is it?"

"I don't trust easily, Castiel, and that goes for you too. The only reason I'm even giving you a chance is because my wife vouched for you, and you just saved my sons. But don't think I've forgotten that you saved us from something that was after you in the first place. If you hurt my family, or if I think that you're putting them in more danger, I will find a way to kill you."

The angel did not doubt John Winchester's sincerity for a moment. If anyone else had threatened him like that, he would have been reaching for his sword, but in this case he was simply grateful that John was being so protective of his children.

"I understand," he said, and John nodded, releasing him so that he could go back into the motel room.

They entered to find Dean standing protectively in front of Sam, shotgun raised.

"It's all right, Dean," Castiel told him. "You're safe now."

Dean relaxed slightly, but he looked to his father for confirmation before lowering the gun entirely. He glanced back at his brother, who was still sitting on the bed, crying silently. John walked quickly to his youngest, scooping the boy into his arms.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy," he soothed.

"Dad?" Dean said, and Castiel hated the tremor of fear in his young voice.

"It's all right, Dean. Castiel is gonna help Sammy, and then we're both gonna make sure nothing like this happens again. Isn't that right?"

The last bit was directed at Castiel, who nodded firmly. He crouched down to meet Dean's uncertain gaze.

"I'm going to take away your brother's memories of this so that he won't be frightened anymore," he told the boy. "Is that all right?"

Castiel knew that Dean would have wanted a decision like that to go through him, even if it had already been made. Dean looked back and forth between Sam and the angel, and then nodded once.

"Good. I can do the same for you, if you would like."

Dean gulped, glancing down at the burnt out body that was still crumpled on the floor. Then he looked back at his father, whose face was impassive. Dean wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

"I don't want to remember," he said. "But I have to. I can't be unprepared if this happens again."

Castiel sighed. Some part of him had always known that that would be Dean's decision, but the idea of the nine year old needing to keep a constant eye out for nightmares was painful. But he nodded anyway, and then walked over to the bed where John and Sam were sitting. He smiled down at Sam, who just stared up at him silently, either terrified past the point of words or trusting of his father's judgment. Castiel hoped it was the latter. The boy had suffered enough fear for one day. Dean watched with wide eyes as the angel placed his hand on Sam's forehead, but made no move to stop him.

Castiel pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing carefully. He delved into Sam's consciousness, searching through his chaotic, childish mind for the scraps of memory that had been tainted by the demon. He gathered them all together, condensing them into a tiny bead that he hid away in the furthest corner of Sam's mind that he could find, tucking it behind a carefully constructed barrier. He also let a wave of peace wash through Sam, and then opened his eyes with a sigh.

"He'll sleep for a while," he told John and Dean.

"And he won't remember any of this?" John checked.

"No. He won't remember me either yet. He'll have a few more years of peace."

Castiel smoothed Sam's hair back from his forehead and then stood.

"I should go," he said. "Remember what I told you."

John nodded. Castiel gave Dean a reassuring smile, then spread his wings and propelled himself out of that dimension.

What started out as a normal flight became anything but when Castiel was jarred to a painful halt by razor claws sinking into his tender wings. He cried out at he was yanked back to reality, gasping in pain when he was thrown to the ground and pinned in place.

He reached for his sword, but it was kicked from his hand. He heard a vile chuckle from above him, and then a grotesquely smiling face entered his line of sight.

"Well, hey there, angel," the demon said. "Never thought I'd get a chance like this."

Though Castiel had only seen this particular demon on one other occasion, he recognized the rotting, twisted face not quite hidden behind the stolen human one. More specifically, he recognized those glowing, lamplike eyes. They were the trademark of the demon responsible for so much suffering in the lives of the people Castiel cared for.

"Azazel," he spat, twisting in the demon's grasp. But Lucifer's chosen had him pinned too tightly. The demon had teeth and claws that existed on the same plane as the angel's wings, and he was using them, as well as his inherent telekinesis. The fact that Castiel's strength was at its lowest after his flight did not help matters either.

He looked around, taking in the stained cinderblock walls and barred windows of what looked like an abandoned jail. There was a table of tools in the corner that the angel did not like the look of, and nothing that looked like it would aid him in an escape.

He gasped as he was thrown through the air again and pinned upright to one of the walls, wings splayed behind him like those of a dead insect on display.

"You have me at a disadvantage," oozed Azazel, ignoring Castiel's inspection. "I don't know your name. Then again, I don't actually care what you're called. I care that you've been hanging around what belongs to me."

"Sam Winchester does not belong to you," Castiel hissed furiously, knowing immediately what the demon was talking about. "He never has, and he never will."

"You see, that's where you're wrong." Azazel's tone was conversational, but his eyes were steely. "Sam is mine, and he is important to me. And I protect what is important to me."

"So do I," said Castiel.

"And therein lies our problem," Azazel returned. He dug his claws back into Castiel's wings, drawing an involuntary scream from the angel. "You see, I don't like angels, and I don't like them interfering in my plans."

"Are you going to kill me then?" panted Castiel. "Because that's the only way you'll stop me from protecting Sam."

"Oh, I don't think that's quite true," said Azazel with a sickening smirk. "I'm not stupid, or reckless. Much as I'd like nothing more than to tear your broken wings off like a moth's, I know the consequences of killing an angel, even one as pathetic as you, and I'd rather not deal with them. But I won't have to kill you."

"Oh?"

"No. You see, I've been having my people watch you for a while. And the things they've seen…I must say, I didn't believe my guy at first when he told me. An angel in love with a human? I didn't think it was possible. But it's true, isn't it?"

Castiel glowered up at the demon, saying nothing as cold dread seeped through him. Azazel smiled again.

"That's what I thought," he said. "So here's the deal: you stay away from the Winchesters, and I'll stay away from Dean. You continue to be the angel on their shoulders, and I will hand Dean over to hell's finest torturer."

"You can't send an innocent soul to hell."

"No, but I can bring Alistair up here. He'll whine, of course, but I think he'd enjoy the challenge of working on someone like Dean."

A chill swept through Castiel. He knew that the demon would not hesitate to carry out his threat. He also knew that there was no way he would ever let Dean fall into Alistair's hands again. He had seen the aftermath of that one too many times already. But how could he leave the Winchesters knowing about the demonic threat hanging over them constantly? How could he abandon Sam to the fate that Azazel had planned for him?

It was simple: he could not.

Wings be damned, he threw himself upward with all the strength he had left, shouting in agony as claws shredded his tender flesh, but not letting the pain distract him. He pushed Azazel back, pressing his palm to the creature's forehead and summoning energy he did not have.

Azazal just laughed as the smiting attempt fizzled into nothing and Castiel collapsed back to the ground, bleeding and utterly exhausted. The demon slashed his claws against the angel's face, opening three deep gashes in his skin just to show that he could. Then he crouched down beside Castiel, not even bothering to hold him in place anymore.

"I can see you're still conflicted," said Azazel. "Let's see what we can do about that."

He snapped his fingers. A moment later, the door banged open and another demon entered, dragging a wildly struggling Dean, the oldest Castiel had ever seen him in the past.

"Let him go," Castiel rasped immediately, struggling to sit up. Azazel rolled his eyes, flicking a hand back carelessly and sending Castiel sliding across the floor to be pinned against the wall again.

"I'd be happy to," the demon said. "As long as you agree to my terms."

"Cas?" asked Dean, who had finally stopped fighting and was taking in the situation.

"It's going to be all right, Dean," the angel said, although he was in no position to be making such promises.

"Yeah, don't worry there Dean-o," said Azazel, his attention focusing on the hunter. "Your little guardian angel will make things all better. Oh wait, that's right; he's useless. Heaven sent you one of their rejects. There's only one thing little Cassie can do for you."

Dean's eyes widened in fear and rage as recognition flickered across his features.

"You," he hissed, presumably recognizing the demon by his distinctive eyes. "You're the one who-"

"Who toasted your mommy on the ceiling? Yep. But that's not important."

"Not important? You killed my mom, you son of a bitch!"

Dean lunged forward, but he did not get very far. The demon that had brought him in flung him back, and Azazel held up a hand, holding the hunter effortlessly in place without touching him.

"No. Not important," the demon repeated. "You see, this isn't about you. You just happened to be the most convenient leverage available."

Azazel cast a glance back at Castiel, eyebrow raised in invitation.

"No," the angel growled. "I will not abandon them to your horrific machinations."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked desperately. "Cas, what's going on?"

Castiel was not quite sure how to answer that, but Azazel did not give him the chance anyway. The demon simply focused on Dean, and a moment later the hunter began to scream.

"Dean!" Castiel shouted uselessly.

The angel stared in horror at the rivulets of blood that had appeared over Dean's heart and begun to run down his torso. So much for handing him over to Alistair. Apparently Azazel was willing to forgo the finesse of the expert in favor of immediate results.

The sight of Dean's face twisted in agony gave Castiel the strength he needed to break free of Azazel's power. He threw himself forward, stooping to grab his blade from where it had fallen, and raised it to plunge into the demon's chest. It found its mark, but in the wrong demon, the one that had brought Dean here, who had thrown itself in front of its master.

Though Castiel freed his blade before the demon's life force had even stopped flickering out, he still was not fast enough to be prepared for Azazel's next strike. The terrifyingly powerful demon flung Castiel back into the wall, the impact jarring his sword from his grip. He smiled at Castiel as he dug his claws into the angel's abdomen.

Castiel could not contain the scream of pain that tore from him, the agony of the physical damage increased a thousand fold by the toxic taint of the demon. He was vaguely aware of Dean shouting something, but all he could focus on was Azazel, the source of his torment.

"This can end now, angel," the demon whispered calmly into his ear. "Or I can torture your boyfriend to death. And if that's still not enough, I will risk any heavenly backlash that killing you might invoke. Don't think for a second that I won't, because Sam Winchester is invaluable to me and to plans that have been in motion for centuries, and you are nothing."

He twisted his claws to drive home his point, and Castiel gasped. He looked past the demon to meet Dean's frantic gaze. The young man was relatively unharmed, for now. But if Azazel was willing to torture an angel, what would he do to a mere human? Castiel thought he knew.

Castiel would die for Dean, had done so in the past. But in this case, his death would serve no purpose. But his acquiescence would come at such a cost. He knew what a future without him held for Sam and Dean. But surely it was better than no future at all?

Castiel closed his eyes and bowed his head, and if angels could weep, he would have done so at that moment. When he looked back up at Azazel, the demon smiled, reading the defeat in his eyes.

"You will let him go," the angel stated.

"Sure. I don't care about him, but he's always pushing little Sammy to improve his skills, make himself more useful. There's no point in getting rid of him now. Besides, I need to have him available in case you try to pull a fast one on me. Your pet will be fine, as long as you hold up your end."

Castiel had begun to suspect that he would not even live through his end, so he supposed the demon had nothing to worry about. He glowered at the demon, letting all of his hatred and rage and agony channel through his gaze. Azazel just chuckled.

"I'm so glad we understand each other," he said. "Bye now."

With that, he removed his claws and his supernatural grip, allowing Castiel to collapse to the floor. The angel found that he could not move; his wings were too shredded for that.

"Cas!" he heard Dean shout. "What the hell did you do to him?"

Castiel assumed that second part had been directed at Azazel, because the angel had certainly done nothing. He could not even find his voice to offer Dean false reassurances. He heard Azazel sigh, and he cried out again as the demon grabbed him again, before flinging him unceremoniously back into the raw power of the timestream. The last thing he saw was Dean's horrified face, before he was lost in a plane of existence in which eyes were useless.

Castiel floundered, buffeted on all sides as he tried uselessly to control his flight with his devastated wings. He struggled to maintain his grip on the familiarity of Dean's timeline, his only anchor in the violent tide raging around him. But his power was at an all time low, and the commitment that he had made to keep Dean safe mandated what he did next.

Anywhere he went, Azazel would have demons on the lookout for him, demons who would kill Dean the second they saw the angel. So with a prayer to the God he was not sure cared, Castiel did the only thing left to him. He let go of his connection to Dean, setting himself adrift in a sea with no shore.

A/N: ...Sorry. But hang in there, because this is not the last chapter. Please review!