A/N: Thank you Guest and anko for your reviews! I know there were some questions and confusion about the last chapter, but here's all the answers.

Chapter 10: Scars

Castiel couldn't stop fidgeting. He flitted his gaze back and forth across the room, snapping his attention to every minor shift of shadow as though it were rising up out of the woodwork.

"Dude, seriously, you're like a three-year-old," Dean scowled. He was currently changing Castiel's bandage. Or, trying to. Every time Castiel twitched, the Winchester either missed the area of stitching he was attempting to clean or ended up with medicated salve on his own fingers.

"Sorry," Castiel muttered, and attempted to hold still. He couldn't say why he was feeling so nervous. Crowley hadn't returned, and Castiel could only presume that Balthazar had succeeded in warning the demon to keep his distance. Castiel was also growing stronger, yet he couldn't help but feel as though something was off, that he needed to be on guard.

Dean had just started taping down a fresh dressing pad over Castiel's stomach when several monsters burst into the room. They had no faces, only gaping, hideous maws atop their necks, with rows of razor teeth. Leviathan.

Before Castiel could give a startled cry, one of the beasts ripped Dean away, and two others converged on Castiel, hands pawing at his stomach. Castiel tried to fight them off, but his arms were grabbed and pinned to his sides. He was still too weak to fight against supernatural strength.

He bucked, trying in vain to break free. Dean! Castiel couldn't see him anymore. No, he couldn't let the Purgatory monsters hurt the Winchesters.

The Leviathan cracked macabre grins at him, and placed sharpened talons against his chest. Castiel jerked as the tips pricked skin. And then the claws dug in deep, rending through muscle and sinew to gouge out his grace. Castiel screamed.

"Sam!" Dean bellowed over Cas's screams as the angel writhed and bucked beneath him. He'd been caught completely off guard when Cas suddenly shoved him away from taping the bandage down. At first Dean thought he'd accidentally hurt him, but then Cas was thrashing on the bed, and Dean had lunged to hold him down before he could hurt himself. Cas had let out a bloodcurdling scream at that. Dean had to throw himself on top of the angel's legs in order to pin him down so he wouldn't tear that wound open again. It was a good thing Cas was still weakened; otherwise he could have flung Dean into the wall.

Sam came barreling into the room, eyes flying wide at the sight he found. "What's going on?" he exclaimed.

"I have no idea!" Dean shouted back. "Help me!"

Sam surged forward and took over holding one of Cas's arms so Dean could shift his position. He'd been half-sitting on Cas's stomach and pressing against that wound, which had to have hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Dean didn't think that was what was making Cas lose it, though.

"Cas! Cas!" he shouted, using his now free hand to clasp the side of Cas's neck. "Snap out of it!"

Cas just squeezed his eyes shut and screamed again.

"What in the blazes?" Bobby rushed into the room, throwing them all a bewildered look.

"He's having some kind of fit," Sam said unnecessarily.

Dean gritted his teeth as Cas let out the most gut-wrenching sob he'd ever heard. But he held on, he and Sam immobilizing Cas as much as they could until his struggles gradually started to lessen. Finally, Cas was mostly still on the bed, save for minute twitches running through his limbs and facial muscles. He'd stopped screaming, but his eyes remained wide open and dilated, staring at nothing. Dean slowly eased up on his grip.

"Cas? Cas?" Dean patted his cheek, but got no reaction. "Cas, dammit, can you hear me?"

"Dean," Sam interjected softly. "I don't think he knows we're here."

Dean's stomach clenched as he glanced at his friend's face, frozen in terror. They waited for a few more minutes, but Cas was completely catatonic.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean demanded as he finally stepped away from the bed.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know." He looked at Bobby.

"How the hell should I know?" the older hunter groused.

Sam shook his head and turned back to Cas, placing the back of his hand to the angel's forehead. Cas didn't even seem to register the touch. "He doesn't have a fever."

"You think this is some kind of attack from Crowley?" Dean posited.

Sam frowned, but then started sweeping his gaze around the room. "We should check for hex bags." He immediately slipped a hand underneath Cas's pillow, then between the mattress and boxspring. Dean pivoted and went to shake out the curtains around the window, while Bobby rifled through the dresser drawers. After a thorough search, however, they'd come up with nothing.

"Okay, another kind of curse?" Dean suggested. "We can summon Crowley, set up a Devil's Trap."

Sam's brow furrowed. "I don't know, Dean. If Balthazar managed to warn Crowley away and this isn't actually him, we'd be inviting more trouble."

"So, what, you want to just wait? Leave him like this?" Dean gestured harshly to Cas lying on the bed.

"Of course not. But if we bring Crowley here and anything goes wrong, Cas is defenseless right now. Crowley could easily finish the job or take him back to Hell."

Dean bit back another retort at that. Okay, so summoning Crowley probably wasn't the smartest move.

"Dean?" a soft voice issued from behind them.

Dean whirled and surged toward the bed. "Cas?"

Cas's eyes were still wide and staring straight up. "Dean," he said again, voice frail and lost.

Dean's heart stuttered. "Cas, I'm right here."

The angel's face pinched, and then he started to toss his head from side to side. "No, no, stop!" His back arched and he let out another horrendous cry of terror.

Dean flung himself forward to hold Cas down, and Sam instantly moved in as well. Bobby rushed over and grabbed Cas by the ankles. The angel jerked and thrashed, pleas for them to stop ripping from his throat. Dean clamped his jaw shut against a surge of bile. They weren't hurting Cas, they were trying to help him. But Cas didn't seem to know that. Whatever flashback or hallucination he was trapped in, he was being tortured. He thought Dean was torturing him.

After a couple of minutes, it mercifully stopped, and Cas fell limp beneath them, eyes once more frozen open in paralyzed horror. A tear track slipped down the side of his face, and Dean nearly did lose his gorge then.

The three of them cautiously let go and backed up a few steps. Sam looked as pale and sickened as Dean felt. Bobby's mouth was set in a grim line.

"We're not gonna be able to keep this up," the older hunter said.

"What else are we supposed to do?" Dean rejoined. "Dump him somewhere like a psych ward?"

Bobby lifted one shoulder. "Well…"

Dean shot him a scathing glare. "No! I am not turning my back on him again. He needs our help and we will figure this out."

Bobby let out an exasperated huff. "We're not equipped to deal with this, whatever it is. I know Balthazar said Cas couldn't go back to Heaven, but that might be the only thing left that can help him."

Dean's jaw clenched. Sam gave him a helpless look that said he thought Bobby had a point. Dean didn't want to admit it, but Cas going back to Heaven would feel like losing him, would feel like Dean had failed to be there like he'd promised. What if Cas didn't come back? They'd been working on patching things up between them, but Dean didn't know if Cas actually wanted to be here. But Dean couldn't help him like this. And for once he had to put his best friend first.

"Alright, we can summon Balthazar."

Bobby put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll get the stuff for it."

Dean watched Bobby leave the room, then glanced back at Cas. He didn't understand, things were getting better…although, granted, Cas's nightmares were pretty bad, and this kind of reminded Dean of those, except Cas wasn't asleep right now, but having some kind of full-on mental breakdown.

He could feel Sam's worried eyes on him, but Dean didn't have any steadfast words of encouragement for his little brother.

Cas let out a small whimper, and Sam instantly moved closer to lean over the bed, hands spread non-threateningly but also poised to exert brute force just in case.

"Cas? Can you hear me?" Sam asked gently.

Cas's eyelids fluttered, his gaze finally shifting. But before Dean could feel an ounce of relief, Cas was bolting out of the bed and shoving Sam, hard. Sam went flying backwards into some furniture, shattering a full-length mirror that'd been leaning against the wall.

"Cas, no!" Dean shouted.

The angel scrambled out of bed, adrenaline overriding any discomfort or pain his wound would have given him. Cas snatched up a shard of broken glass before Dean could reach him, and slashed out with it. Dean skidded to a halt and twisted away before Cas could cut him.

Sam grunted as he tried to extricate himself from the splintered wood and glass pieces and get on his feet. Cas whirled toward the sound of crunching glass, shard brandished in warning.

"Cas, stop," Dean pressed, pouring every effort into keeping his voice level so he wouldn't spook the angel more. "It's Sam. Okay, Cas? It's Sam and Dean."

Cas whipped a crazed gaze back at him, jerking the glass fragment back and forth as well. He was gripping it so tightly that it had sliced his palm, and blood was streaming down his arm in bright rivulets.

"Cas," Dean said firmly, "put it down."

Cas blinked in apparent confusion, but then he flinched as if he'd been struck, and suddenly he was slashing at invisible foes as though the Winchesters weren't even in the room. Sam finally managed to scramble to his feet and back away, and both he and Dean kept urging Cas to put the piece of glass down.

"Cas, you're safe!"

Cas had backed himself into the corner, glass fragment clutched tightly to his chest. He was no longer waving it around, but the Winchesters were still wary of getting too close. Cas pressed his back against the wall and slid down to the floor where he hunched into a tight ball and started rocking back and forth.

"They're all dead," he moaned. "I killed them. Sam… Dean… They're all dead."

"Cas, we're right here," Sam pleaded.

Dean's heart dropped into his stomach. Screw it, they couldn't wait for a summoning spell.

"I pray to thee Balthazar, we need you down here right now! You hear me? I don't care what you're doing, Cas needs you—"

There was a puff of air and echo of wings fluttering, and then Balthazar was standing before him, hands on his hips. "Don't make me revoke your prayer privileges," he griped. "What trouble could you possibly have gotten into now?"

Dean thrust his arm out to point over the angel's shoulder, and Balthazar turned, only to go rigid at the sight of Cas curled forward and muttering to himself. The blood streaming down his arm was beginning to smear across his sweatpants as he hugged his knees, the glass shard still clutched tightly in a death grip.

"He's hallucinating or something," Sam said desperately.

Balthazar surged forward. Cas shrunk back sharply and raised his makeshift weapon, but Balthazar put two fingers to Cas's forehead before he could strike, and Cas instantly fell limp. Balthazar knelt down, pried Cas's fingers away from the piece of glass, and then scooped him up to place him back in bed. Dean and Sam came forward warily as the angel hovered a hand over Cas's lax face for several long moments.

Bobby came back into the room, summoning ingredients in hand. He barely blinked at the fact that Balthazar was already there, and simply dropped the items on top of the dresser. He did narrow his eyes at the broken mirror and scattered glass.

"You got any idea what's wrong with him?" the older hunter asked.

Balthazar didn't respond right away, but a moment later his face drained of color and he recoiled from whatever scan he'd been doing of Cas.

"What?" Sam asked in alarm.

Balthazar continued to stare at Cas in horror, which only made Dean's heart rate ratchet up.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"He…I should have seen this coming," the angel finally said. "What Cas did…"

"What?" Dean snapped.

Balthazar shot him a black look, but Dean could see that it was motivated by fear and worry. "Absorbing all those Purgatory souls, you have to remember they were monster souls. Everything about their essences was bloodthirsty and vile. That's why Cas wasn't himself near the end; they were corrupting him."

"Okay," Sam interrupted. "But he gained control and put them back."

"Yes, but carrying them left scars." Balthazar glanced back at his unconscious brother. "And now he's being tortured by their echoes."

Dean's chest tightened. It wasn't enough Cas was suffering physically after his ordeal, he had to mentally now as well? "Can you help him?"

A muscle in Balthazar's jaw ticked, and his expression pinched with regret. "No. Nothing can. The imprint has been seared into his mind. He'll never escape them."

Dean clenched his fists. No, that wasn't acceptable. There had to be a way. A demon deal, a spell, something. Cas had saved the world; he didn't deserve this.

"Scars," Sam mused out loud. "Like how my soul has scars from the Cage."

Dean furrowed his brow at how excited his brother sounded. Sam gave Balthazar a questioning look.

"Well, er, yes," the angel replied. "It's essentially the same."

"Then we put up a wall in Cas's mind, just like was done with me," Sam said eagerly.

Dean straightened. That was right; Cas had said Sam's soul was so scarred with memories of Hell that it would drive him insane, so Death had put up a wall to prevent that. He spun back toward Balthazar. "There, see?"

The angel's mouth pressed into a thin line as he considered it. "That…might work."

Dean broke into a grin. He knew there was always a way.

"But," Balthazar added grimly. "I don't possess the ability to do that. No angel does."

Dean felt that hope slipping away through his fingers. No, he was not giving up.

He drew his shoulders back with staunch resolve. "I know who does."

Sam shifted his weight nervously as Balthazar readied the ingredients to perform a summoning spell for Death. At least it didn't require one of them momentarily stopping their heart and cajoling a reaper into calling their boss. Even with Balthazar around to resurrect them, they had all come too close to dying recently for Sam's liking.

They had moved downstairs for the ritual where they had more space. Balthazar had flown Cas down and laid him on the couch. He was still unconscious, though Sam wondered if Cas was still being plagued by horrific images, even put under as he was. Sam hoped not. They'd wrapped a hasty bandage around his hand to stop the bleeding, but had opted to focus on the more pressing issue.

"Alright," Balthazar said, raising a knife to his palm. "Here we go."

He made a slit, and then squeezed his hand over the bowl of herbs on Bobby's desk. As blood dribbled down, the contents began to smoke, and the room shook. Sam looked around warily, and then flinched when Death himself appeared not three feet to his left.

The Horseman stood erect, both hands folded in front of him and resting on the knob of his cane. "Well," he said, roving his gaze over each one of them. "Isn't this interesting."

Dean stepped forward. "We, uh, need your help."

"Is that so? You should know by now that I'm not in the habit of doling out favors."

Dean hesitated. "Well, uh, it's a really small favor, probably wouldn't take much…" He gestured to Cas. "We need you to put a wall in his head, like you did for Sam."

Death shifted a disinterested mien toward the unconscious angel. "No."

"Cas is going insane from the Purgatory souls—"

"Shut up, Dean," Death interrupted coldly. "I'm not here to tie your shoes every time you trip. I warned you about those souls how long ago? Long enough to stop that fool." The Pale Horseman turned his pointed nose up at them. "He deserves his fate."

"Now wait just one bloody minute—"

Death flicked his wrist, and a bright light erupted around Balthazar. Sam threw his arm up to shield his eyes, and when the aura faded, the angel was gone. Sam shot a panicked look at his brother. This wasn't going well at all…

"Goodbye, Dean," Death said. "Don't summon me again."

"Wait!" Dean held his hands out, expression pleading. "Just wait."

Death paused, and angled a considering look at him.

Dean took a deep breath. "Cas doesn't deserve this. Yeah, what he did was risky and dangerous, but he saved the world. And nearly died for it. He's a hero. He shouldn't be punished for stepping up when no one else would."

Death's expression never shifted as he listened blandly.

Sam swallowed hard, and exchanged a tense look with Bobby.

Death slowly turned his shrewd gaze to Cas. "And what will you give this time in return?" he finally asked.

Dean faltered. "Uh…" He glanced helplessly at Sam, who didn't know what to say. Dean had told him about Death's wager when he'd asked the Horseman to retrieve Sam's soul from the Cage. Dean had lost, but Death had done it anyway. Should Sam offer to take Death's ring and be a reaper for a day?

"Would you give up your life in exchange for his?" Death continued, zeroing in on Dean again.

Sam stiffened. No. He saw his brother hesitate, eyes wavering with indecision, and then grim resolve. Sam tried to catch his gaze and subtly shake his head. Dean, don't.

Dean just gave him a small, sad smile. "Yes," he said, gaze still locked with Sam's. "I'd give up my life for one of my brothers."

Sam's heart clenched. He didn't want Dean to do this—but he understood. If Death had asked him instead…Sam would have said the same thing. He glanced at Cas, torn because he didn't know how to choose between him and Dean.

Bobby looked ready to have a conniption fit, but was staying remarkably quiet in the background. Sam was grateful; he didn't want Bobby getting blasted somewhere like Balthazar. And he never thought he'd say it, but he hoped the angel was okay.

"Very well," Death broke the tension. "I will put up a wall in his mind."

Dean flinched, but then held his head up stoically. Sam's chest constricted.

Death angled a dry look at Dean. "Don't worry, I won't reap your soul in exchange."

Sam felt the air practically whoosh from his lungs.

Dean blinked dubiously at the Horseman. "You won't?" he asked warily.

Death started moving toward Cas. "No," he said. "But I will only put up a partial wall. The angel will still remember his actions—and the consequences."

Sam frowned. "But—" he started, only to clamp his mouth shut fearfully when Death flicked his keen gaze at him. Sam pushed his terror down. "But you said I shouldn't scratch my wall, that even a leak of memory could be catastrophic. So- so how will a partial wall fix anything?"

"Think of it more like a transparent wall," Death replied. "The angel will be haunted by what he's done, but not crippled."

"But it'd be better if Cas didn't remember," Dean pressed.

Sam rolled his eyes in a surge of exasperation. Not this again. "Dean."

His brother whirled on him. "We can go back to the way things were before, before we all made a mess of things."

Sam cast a tense look at Death, uncomfortable with the Horseman as an audience. "We've been working through it," he returned in a low voice. "You can't just throw all that away, Dean."

His brother scowled. "You mean throw away the bitterness and mistrust? Things were better before."

"Or maybe we can make them better now. Now that we've all learned from our mistakes."

Dean skewered him with a pained look, but Sam was done backing down on this. It was one thing with Lisa and Ben, but Cas was Sam's friend, too.

"Which is exactly why the angel must remember the consequences of his actions," Death spoke up again. "Or he will never learn." He narrowed a pointed look at Dean. "This is the only offer you're going to get."

A muscle in Dean's jaw jerked, but he didn't try to argue further. Death moved to stand over Cas, and then the Pale Horseman reached a hand down to cover the fallen angel's forehead. And Sam held his breath.

A/N: Cliffhanger again! Only one more chapter after this!