A/N: This might actually get over 100 reviews... seriously, I'm overwhelmed by y'all :) Thank you SO MUCH for the response and enthusiasm! You have NO IDEA how amazing it makes me feel! ^_^

To WarWhales: hahaha, Raphael is definitely NOT living up to standard mythos. He's such a jerk! Thanks for reviewing :)

Also, there's a bit of concept art I did for this chapter, it's on my deviantart account if you're interested. User name is the same, 29-pieces-of-me

Now then, let's see how John responds to all this... the chapter title is a clue...

Chapter 10 – In Which John is Frankly an Asshole

Deep in slumber that night, the last thing in the world that Castiel was prepared for was the sudden deluge of something slick and noxious drenching him completely. He jerked awake, shooting up in the bed and then freezing instantly. John Winchester was standing over him, a lighter in his hand. Castiel stared at the flickering flame, then at the cold face looming above.

"Make a move, halo," John said, voice low and dangerous. "Make a sound, just one. Know what that is you're covered in? Holy oil. You do exactly what I say, or I throw the lighter and you're barbecue. Got it?"

Castiel worked his jaw, mind rushing to catch up. This wasn't a bluff. He could smell the oil, felt it dripping down his back now that he was sitting. He was coated in the mess, and that put him in a truly dangerous position. The angel's pulse quickened, but long millennia of schooling kept any emotion from his face. John had him trapped, and Castiel no longer doubted that he would actually ignite the oil if it came to it.

For a moment, he didn't understand. John had said they would all be able to work together… How could Castiel have honestly believed that the hunter had had a change of heart?

"Got it?" John repeated as his icy but steady eyes bored into the angel.

Resisting at the moment would be an exercise in futility, and most likely suicide. For the moment, Castiel realized with resignation, his best bet would be to go along with John's demands. At least until the lighter was out of the picture. He nodded, heart sinking.

"Good. Get up – slowly. Move to the edge of the bed and put your blade on the floor."

John's voice was a low rumble – too low to wake his sleeping sons in the room next door, Castiel realized. His eyes flicked back to the flame, watching it warily as he slowly pushed himself towards the edge of the bed, a puddle of holy oil seeping from his clothes and onto the bedcovers.

Still moving as slowly and nonthreateningly as possible, Castiel allowed one arm to drop, his weapon sliding from within the recesses of his sleeve with practiced ease. He held his other hand up, palm out to show surrender, as the angel leaned over and set his blade carefully on the floor. He nudged it with his foot towards the human though it cost his heart another pang to do so.

The lighter never wavered as John hurried to snatch the sword up, tucking it into his own belt before digging into his pocket. There was a glint of metal, and then he tossed something into Castiel's lap. The angel looked down, frowning. John couldn't be serious…

"Cuff yourself," John growled, still not raising his voice. "In front, keep your hands where I can see them. Now."

It frustrated Castiel to no end that this would actually be enough to keep him restrained. The very idea of being trapped by a human should have been laughable, only highlighting how far he'd fallen. His mouth twisted in displeasure, but he slid the metal bracelets around his wrists, tightening the ratchets into place.

"Now get down on the floor, halo. Slowly. One wrong move and you go up in flames."

The last thing in the world Castiel wanted was to be on the floor with John Winchester towering over him. Not when he knew just how much the human despised him, and not when that human was capable and willing to do some serious damage. He hesitated, contemplating his would-be captor. John's hooded eyes held nothing but threat and resolve. Obviously he was wary of getting too close, playing it safe by forcing him to the ground, which meant despite his frequent comments on the angel's uselessness, he wouldn't be making the mistake of underestimating Castiel. Odds of escape were getting slimmer.

The lighter danced dangerously closer, and Castiel stiffened. A low growl rumbled in John's chest, evidently angered that he was taking so long to comply.

Slowly, Castiel lowered himself down to sit on the floor of the dusty hotel, still not sure what John's endgame was.

"Why not just light it instead of waking me?" he asked, his own voice dark and gravelly with defeat. "Why go through all this first? Unless…"

Castiel's gaze flitted over to the wall that separated his room from the Winchesters'. He swallowed, imagining Dean running in at the sound of a commotion, only to see his charred remains, the ashes of his already shredded wings forever burned into the worn sheets and hotel walls.

He could never allow Dean or Sam to go through that.

"Because my sons have gotten soft," John snapped, confirming the angel's suspicion. "Not another word from you!"

Castiel couldn't bite back a gasp as something solid slammed jarringly into his cheekbone. His head hit the leg of the bedpost behind him, pain erupting like fire through his skull and radiating down his neck. The angel barely had time to collect himself before John kicked him again, hard. This time, Castiel hit the floor. His ribs screamed at the treatment, but he choked back any sound of agony. John was on top of him, pinning him flat on his back with a knee thrust into his chest to keep him still. The other knee was digging into one of Castiel's bound arms, preventing him from even the slightest chance of pushing the hunter off of him.

"Wh- mmph!"

The flame from the lighter had disappeared, but that hardly mattered now, and Castiel wrinkled his nose at the taste of the rag that had just been stuffed into his mouth. It tasted like automobile; combined with the stench of oil that still filled the room, Castiel was getting a very human urge to vomit. Shaking his head, the angel fought to dislodge the offending cloth.

"Mmph!"

"I said, shut up," John growled, voice still terrifyingly calm. There was nothing calm about the sudden backhand he dealt the angel, though, snapping Castiel's face to the side and leaving him dazed. The rag tightened, pulled deeper into his mouth as John took advantage of his disorientation to tie it off, silencing him.

In the fog that swam through his mind, Castiel felt his heart sink heavily at the betrayal, even if he should have seen it coming. John Winchester, he was now convinced, had every intention of killing him. The father of his best friends, the man that he would have done anything to protect, was going to murder him in cold blood.

Because he, Castiel, was a monster, and had no place with these humans.

The heaviness in his heart, though, came from a deeper truth that destroyed him much more surely than the ignited holy oil would. The fact was… John was right.

He was a monster, not really an angel, not really a man.

And certainly not a Winchester.

So Castiel didn't fight him, didn't move as a heavy rope was wrapped around his wrists to reinforce the cuffs, more evidence that the hunter was going to leave nothing to chance. Castiel wondered if John would even tell Dean and Sam what he'd done, or if the angel's disappearance would forever be a mystery. Hopefully, the boys would move on with their lives and not dig too deep. They could enjoy having their father back, without him being in the way.

"Get up."

There was a violent tug, and Castiel brought his awareness back to the moment. John had left a long length of rope attached to his wrists, using it as a makeshift lead so that he could stay a safe distance away from the angel, and the lighter was back in his hand to dissuade Castiel from resisting. John gave the rope a hard yank so that Castiel had to scramble to his feet, arms pulled forward.

With another tug, they began to move back towards the door, and Castiel didn't have much choice but to follow. The angel grunted into the gag, piqued at being led around like a dog on a leash. Besides, the stench of oil was now wafting past his nostrils all the stronger, a reminder that the hunter need only throw the lighter, and Castiel was dead.

When they emerged into the night, Castiel's eyes flicked once more to the door next to his. He was only gagged with a simple rag; perhaps he could still make enough noise to attract Dean and Sam's attention, as light of sleepers as they were.

"One peep out of you…"

The threat hung heavy in the air, as the hunter evidently guessed his mind. The lighter bobbed ever closer towards the rope that John was dragging him along with, and Castiel quickly dismissed the idea of trying to wake them. He wouldn't get his friends involved in this. He wouldn't put them in the position where they would have to choose between him or their own father. Partly because such a move would be cruel of him.

Partly because Castiel couldn't bear the thought of Dean and Sam allowing him to be taken away, even though he knew they should choose their father.

Swallowing, Castiel let the hunter force him towards the Impala, heart twisting at the thought of being held prisoner in the same car he'd spent so much time in with Dean and Sam.

John clearly couldn't care less, opening the passenger door and winding the rope around his hand so that Castiel was reeled in like a fish on a line. Permitting the bigger man to push him into the front seat, Castiel held still as John threaded the lead around the grab bar over the glove box, pulling it tight and tying it off so that his hands would be safely unable to reach the hunter while they drove.

Again, taking no chances, Castiel thought morosely as the door slammed. He waited, tense, as John's heavy treads made their way around to the driver's side. Not that Castiel would have attacked the eldest Winchester even had he not been restrained. He would look for an avenue of escape, but he couldn't do any lasting harm to John Winchester. This was still Dean and Sam's father.

With the foul tasting gag in, Castiel couldn't say much, but he wasn't in the mood for talk as they started off down the road, away from his friends. His mind continued to race, considering his options. The oil, still moist and fully flammable, posed a major problem, unless he could get far enough away from John that the human couldn't use his lighter. If only he could fly, Castiel thought with an infuriated grunt, as he tugged furtively on his restraints. They didn't give, and that infuriated him all the more, but it was fury colored with despair.

"Don't bother," John said from the driver's seat, eyes on the road and lighter in hand, unlit but posed warningly. "You're not going anywhere."

Castiel turned his head, but the hunter probably saw the defeat anyway, as he had seen every single other flaw in the angel.

"I told you, I know what you are," his captor continued, as steady and cool as ever, like he wasn't kidnapping an angel and probably just looking for a good place to dump the body. "You're nothing but a monster. I still don't know how you've fooled Sam and Dean for this long, but it doesn't matter anymore. They weren't ever going to get rid of you, so I will. I'm not having something like you threatening my family."

The angel could have attempted at least a muffled protest, but didn't bother. He sat rigid, externally stoic but internally, he was already burning away. Monster… won't have you threatening my family… The family that Castiel should never have let himself believe he was a part of. Castiel had no family, nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Even if he could escape from John, he could never go back to Dean and Sam now, not without causing more problems for them with the older hunter.

John was their father. Castiel was just a fallen angel who could do them no good anymore. There was no competition, no debate of who ought to be with them, since clearly co-habitation was utterly out of the question, despite John's previous assurance that he could stay.

Loneliness and an icy, devastating sense of loss nearly stole Castiel's breath. A dejected shudder ripped through his tense form but he continued to stare dully out the window at the darkened trees flashing past.

What could have been more isolating and more terrible than the knowledge that there was no place for him in all of Creation?

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for my boys," John went on, though Castiel wasn't sure why he was bothering. There was no need to explain. "Nothing I wouldn't do to protect them. If that means getting rid of you, don't think I'm even going to hesitate. I have the archangel's guarantee they'll stay away from Sam and Dean if I give them you, which takes care of both my problems."

Wait, he had WHOSE guarantee?!

Castiel stiffened, then spun back to face John with eyes wide over the gag. The archangel! John was taking him to Raphael?! That was the plan!? Fear lit a fire in the angel, and he began to struggle in earnest now.

"Nn! Yhhmmn!" Damn it! How could he communicate to John what a terrible mistake he was making!? Terror was building in Castiel's chest, threatening to explode. Not for himself, but for Dean and Sam, even for John. Had this been the plan all along?! How could Castiel have been so stupid, who else could have revived the hunter if not Raphael!?

The angel jerked violently on the rope fastening him to the car, fighting to break free. Desperation and panic began to cloud his mind. He had to warn John of the danger.

Beside him, though, John was unmoved but to suddenly flick the lighter back to life, arm swooping out to hover only inches from his captive. "Hold still and shut up," he advised coldly, glaring at Castiel. The angel had no choice but to press back as far into the corner as he could, wary eyes fixated on the flame. "I'd rather not make a mess in the car, but I will if you make one more move."

Again, the thought of Dean forced to see his wing-prints brought Castiel to a screeching halt. Not in the Impala, which the human held such an odd love for. Castiel slumped down, giving up. After a moment, the threatening flame finally retreated, but Castiel didn't move.

John nodded. "Good boy," he said. The condescension grated at Castiel. "We're almost there."

With nothing else to do, the angel continued to watch the trees flash by, his mind now clouded with a terrible sense of helplessness that he could barely stand. Perhaps he could have found a way to escape John Winchester; he would not escape Raphael. And then who would protect his humans? No matter what assurances Raphael had given, Castiel didn't trust him for a second.

He didn't look up again until the car came to a halt, gravel crunching underneath the tires as John shifted into park and turned to Castiel. "Hold still," he warned yet again, before getting out and moving swiftly around to open the passenger side door. Castiel didn't move, but he fought to catch the hunter's eye as soon as John was level with him.

"Hnnhn," he tried to say into the gag, holding his hands up in their bound position. John paused, staring at him. Castiel maintained eye contact, tilting his head slightly to indicate that he wanted the rag taken out of his mouth, at least for a moment.

Fortunately, the hunter seemed to understand. He reached out, jerking the gag free as he demanded, "What?"

It took a second for Castiel to moisten his dry mouth again enough to talk at all, grimacing at the foul, oily taste the rag had left behind. "John," he rasped, knowing his captor's patience wouldn't last long. "What did the archangel tell you?"

"Enough," John replied shortly. His eyes narrowed in distrust, and he moved as though to stuff the rag back in. Castiel shied back, shaking his head with a sense of impending urgency.

"Listen to me. Raphael cannot be trusted," he growled. "What did they tell you?! That they'd leave Dean and Sam alone? Raphael will never stop until he has his vengeance, he won't be satisfied with killing me."

"We have a deal."

Castiel wanted to scream in frustration. His jaw clenched, as did his bound hands, but he knew that losing his temper now would only encourage John to get rid of him. His own fate didn't matter anymore, though; it wasn't like he had anywhere to go, or anything to do, or anyone who would take him in now. Though his heart tore itself to pieces at that thought, it wasn't the more pressing issue.

"You cannot trust him," he tried again, voice picking up speed and volume. "How can you see me and my kind as monsters, yet make a deal with one?"

"Because," John retorted, pulling the angel blade out now and pressing it close to Castiel's throat as he deftly untied the lead from the grab bar. "He's not the one who's twisted his way into my sons' lives. Get up."

"But you-" Castiel was cut off with a grunt as John simply yanked hard on the lead and stepped backwards, dragging Castiel out of the car to sprawl on the ground. He hadn't realized just how weakened he was from the lack of eating, and now he was sorely regretting his stubborn decision to abstain as though he was still a full angel. With nothing but human strength, he was ludicrously outmatched by John Winchester.

The gravel rocks dug into Castiel's knees, biting into him through his trousers as he struggled to get up before John could jerk the rope again. He got to unsteady feet, eyeing the hunter warily, as well as the angel blade now extended towards him in clear threat. Castiel understood the unspoken directions to maintain his distance, and he didn't bother to try pulling away.

"I don't need to explain myself to you," John informed him as he began to walk, the slack in the rope quickly growing taut. Castiel followed, his bound wrists pulling him forward, though his footsteps were sluggish with reluctance.

"Raphael will not let Dean and Sam escape-"

"Quiet."

They lapsed into silence. Castiel finally realized that they had come full circle, back to the old power plant where he and John had first encountered each other. Castiel's chest ached with the phantom pain of the stab wound, so much more potent than when Dean had tried the same move so long ago. The thought of Dean only made the ghost wound throb harder, or perhaps that was just his stricken heart as Castiel wished with bitter regret that he could have at least bidden his friends goodbye.

"I still have half a mind to beat them senseless," John suddenly grunted, tugging the rope lead. Even among the shadows obscuring his face, Castiel could see John's expression darken. "Here I am, cleaning up their messes again. I trained them better than this. Their stupidity, taking in a monster like you…" He shook his head, jerking Castiel forward with a vicious tug as they made their way deeper into the plant. "I swear, sometimes they don't have a brain between them."

Ire rose within Castiel at the insult to his friends. Family was supposed to stick together, hadn't John been the one to preach that to his sons to begin with? And yet, he would say such things of his own children? Even if they were just words spoken in anger, even if he didn't even mean them, how could he excuse such a thing to himself?!

The angel, who had been trying so hard for so long to avoid saying anything to get on John's bad side for the sake of his friends, couldn't bite his tongue any longer. There was nothing he could say in defense of himself, not when John's words rang with truth, but the remarks on Dean and Sam were more than he could take.

Coming to a sudden halt, tugging back on the rope lead he was on, Castiel growled with pointed accusation, "It's true, I have made mistakes, many of which affected Dean and Sam. But I'm not the only one they deserved better from."

John moved like lightning, grabbing the lapels of Castiel's trench coat and slamming him hard into the crumbling brick wall, hard enough that the angel felt some of the bricks give. The angel blade pressed deeply up under his chin, forcing his head back, as John snarled, "I am their father."

Castiel's eyes narrowed, ignoring the menacing threat unveiled in the hunter's cold gaze as he retorted, "Exactly."

He saw the strike coming, but had no way of defending himself against it. The hilt of his own blade crashed into his head, leaving him dazed as he was beaten down to the ground. The angel gritted his teeth against the pain, biting back any sound as John's boot caught him in the stomach, hard. Castiel could only curl in on himself, struggling just to breathe.

"No more talking," John snarled from somewhere above him, and then the rag was being harshly stuffed back into his mouth. "Get up, move it."

Castiel winced through the blood dripping down his forehead as he was dragged back up by the wrists, forced on as John yanked the rope to move him under a staircase that still seemed relatively sturdy. The hunter was looking murderous as he threw the rope lead over the rail of the catwalk above them. When he caught the other end, he pulled hard so that Castiel's arms were hoisted up in the air, forcing the angel to stand up as straight as he could.

"Even the other monsters want you dead," John told Castiel coldly as he tied the lead off to the lower rail, trapping the angel in place. "And I'm not letting you take my sons down with you. Now stay here and be quiet while I call the archangel."

The captive angel felt like he'd been stabbed with his blade, staring mutely at John with crushed disbelief. He knew that his family wanted to kill him, but the hunter said it so callously, so matter of fact, and it killed Castiel with the truth of it all.

So why was he even bothering to fight? There was no point, no point to any of this, and Castiel slumped, arms stretching taut over his head at the movement. Raphael would be overjoyed to find him like this. Maybe he would be merciful enough to hold up his end of whatever agreement had been made, and leave the Winchesters alive. That… that would be worth it.

The angel closed his eyes. His throat tightened as he mentally whispered an apology to Dean and Sam.

A light flashed, bright enough that Castiel could see it even with his eyes closed, and then a voice: "Well, what do we have here?"