"Go on, then, Cassy." Jim crossed his arms, watching the angel expectantly.

Castiel sent a glare back in Moriarty's direction before looking back at the pill bottle. Solemnly, he shook out a pill. He leaned his head back and swallowed the tiny capsule. For a moment nothing happened, but the angel could feel this lifting feeling in his sternum and his vision began to cross. Then, a wave of cold hit Cas like a punch in the throat.

Jim smiled. The transformation was always a beautiful process. Like the other angels before him, Castiel fell forward onto his knees and then, with one palm to the floor and the other clutching where his vessel's heart was located, arched his back and released a wail of pain. Leaning against his desk in a comedically calm way, highly contrasting the episode before him, Jim watched with an endless fascination. This was his creation. He had obtained a power that no one else could. He'd started a species, stealing the angels from God. Becoming God himself. Creating his own beings. Not good, not evil. New. Interesting.

Castiel clawed at his shirt, but found himself scratching stone. The smooth texture worked its way across his clothing and onto his skin, moving like a sort of living liquid as it swallowed him whole. Then came Jim's favorite part. Like a plant, stone began to sprout from the angel's back as his wings became visible. Substantial. Vulnerable. It was beautiful, seeing the vessel transform into what was really inside. An angel. Flawless and cold with wings that never really permitted any freedom.

The pill seemed to work so much better on angels than on demons. Jim felt his nose twitch in disgust, recounting that failure. There's a reason why there faces are locked in hell. Nobody wants to see that.

Another cry brought Moriarty back to the scene before him, causing the crimelord to roll his eyes. "Oh, stop your whining. You angels are all so wimpy. It'll be over in a short while."

Castiel fell into a fetal position, shuddering until his shaking subsided. The effect of his stillness and the stony exterior made Cas look something like a lawn ornament, much to Jim's amusement.

Somewhere along Castiel's transformation, the spell had worn off of Dean and the hunter was no longer frozen by the angel, but instead frozen in devastation. He stared at what was once his friend, arms and legs weighed down heavily by the sheer force of seeing his angel friend curled on the ground in pain.

Moriarty grinned over at Dean. "Pretty cool, right?" He walked over to the Winchester, gripping Dean's shoulder. "Let's get a closer look!" Jim roughly brought Dean to his feet and pulled him over to Cas. Jim shoved Dean so that he was on his knees, inches away from the angel that had now started to move.

Sluggishly and with the sound of rocks grinding together, Cas pushed himself up, looking around with new eyes. From his side, he could see flowing colors, colors that didn't even appear in the spectrum that existed on Earth or the one in Heaven. What he saw, he realized, were energies. Auras and chakras and all those things that exist on the spiritual plane.

All Dean saw, however, was his good friend's face, painted in stone with shallow indents where Cas' eyes used to be. There was no expression on his face. No hint that he was even awake in there, if not for the movement.

Moriarty patted Dean's cheek happily. "I'd offer you one, but humans are so annoyingly awful, I'm sure that you wouldn't look any better than the demon I gave a pill to. So off you go then." Jim stood up, nudging the hunter with his foot.

Dean suddenly felt a swell of rage and gritted his teeth, looking up at the crimelord. "I'm going to fucking kill you." He lunged angrily, but the collar of his shirt was caught easily by Jim's stupid henchman and the Winchester was dragged away as he screamed curses at Moriarty.

The goon threw Dean out of the room, leaving him where Dean had gotten grabbed in the first place. The hunter ran at the door, but found it locked. He yelled and kicked at the door. He even shot it, but nothing could get the door to open.

The hunter clenched his fist, sliding down the door until he was sitting. He shook his head, curling his fingers in his hair. Again and again he told himself that Cas wasn't lost. He couldn't be.

He would be made right again.

Somehow.