Cold was the first to slither its way into his senses. As soon as it did, a painful ache stretched its way across his skull and down his neck. With a groan, Dean stirred, eyes opening slowly to an overpowering light. Ah, fuck. Squinting he realized he was looking across a room from the floor's point of view, his cheek pressed into the cool cement. Shelves lined the wall ahead of him, all dripping with god knew what, all of it sickly dark shades of red and maybe some purple. Slimy veins of it hung down from the layered metal surfaces.
"Great," he mumbled roughly, cursing how he'd managed to miss the ambush.
It took his vision a minute to adjust to the light, which was a bright bulb hanging down from the middle of the ceiling. Glancing at it made his head pound – so did trying to lift his head, for that matter – but he grit his teeth against it and attempted to push himself into a sitting position.
God fucking damn it. His wrists were bound.
He moved his fingers into the way-too-familiar technique that went with trying to worm his way out of the bindings. He winced slightly, twisting his wrists as he tried to manipulate his arms upward, guessing it was wiring from the way the thin material dug sharply into his skin.
As he worked on this, he pushed against the floor with his shoulder, using the rest of his side to rock himself from his position lying on the floor to one where he was at least frickin' sitting. No way he was going to keep resting there like he was waiting for the damn thing. Which was a great question – where the fuck was it? Where was he? Where was Cas? Where was Sam?
Well with luck, better off than him. The monster was only after him, or that at least remained their assumption.
His eyes scanned the room some more. It was an obvious basement, but not the one they'd seen before. This one was half the size and didn't have any sign of a secret backroom. Nah, that was right in here with him, judging by the shelves. A shut door was behind him, and as soon as he noticed he slid himself until his back hit the wall. Using his legs and continuous lack of hands, he shoved his boots into the floor for leverage, pressing back into the wall for support.
Thank you, he inwardly thought, wondering why it was he was even still alive and breathing in the first place. Did the monster not know how things worked? They never did, did they? Leaving any of them breathing was a sure way for things to not go their way. Huh, lucky for him.
Now that he was standing, he moved carefully toward the door, wishing to hell he had his knife or gun or goddamn anything, but what would he do anyways – hold it in his mouth? Turning himself around he wrapped a hand around the doorknob, leaning his body into a turn. Locked. Of course.
Tools. He walked over to a table free of the gut collections, seeing nothing helpful. No windows either.
He could smell the hint of something rancid and had a feeling he wasn't going to get a break as soon as the rest of his senses caught up with him.
Unenthusiastically he stepped over to the shelves, peering with disgust into the piles of what smelt like rotting piles of sour garbage, some of it still juicy. Dean really doubted there was something like pliers beneath all of this gruesome shit.
He tried to turn his head and breathe in a fresh pocket of air, but that wasn't happening. "Jesus," he murmured, backing off. So now what?
Cas, where art thou, Cas?
Hell's chance and he knew it, but he had to try. He knew the moment Cas started talking about the angels losing track of these 'unreachable' monsters, Dean knew Cas wouldn't be able to help them as he usually did. No tracking meant there was little chance he could find him here. But where the fuck had he even gone, and how come he hadn't followed?
Hadn't Sam been close enough to see? Dean swore he'd seen him in his last second of alertness. Where did he end up?
Better not be goddamn dead. Too many close calls on this fucking case.
A light jingling sounded outside the room, and Dean's attention immediately landed on the doorknob. Well this was just peachy.
Having no choice, Dean willfully stood his ground, waiting until he saw the monster enter through the door. She bounced in like nothing was off about her in the whole fucking world – she looked exactly the same as the last time he'd seen her. Some cutesy little blonde with a dimpled smile. Perfectly innocent. Right.
"Oh, hi Dean!" she greeted, looking scarcely surprised that he'd awoken and was off the floor.
Dean glared in her direction. "Hey, fancy meeting you here."
She laughed. "Don't act like you're not happy to see me again after the bad way things were left on our date."
She stepped closer and Dean clenched his jaw, keeping still, not letting any fear give the time of day to this class-act.
"Cheer up, you tough little human," she teased, placing a hand on one of his arms. This time he did move – taking the second to shake off her touch.
"You bring me here to talk or tear me to pieces?"
"You make it sound so unladylike," she pouted. "I try to keep things civil and organized."
"Oh yeah, I can tell," he remarked, wondering how much more bullshit she was going to try and sweeten him up with. "Why not knock me out a third time – show me these manners you think you have?"
An enigmatic smirk appeared on her face, causing Dean to momentarily doubt his goading. Didn't even get that much time to do it – a second later she violently thrust her hand into his chest, sending him crashing into the shelving behind him. His back hit it painfully, his eyes squeezing shut as he attempted to brace himself, but the force of it had him crumpling to the floor. As his back throbbed – fuck that was going to leave nasty bruises – he became vaguely aware of something wet, cold, and rank draped over his neck. Son of a bitch.
In the presence of the once-polite girl, the hell he'd squirm around like an idiot trying to fling it off in traumatized horror, but he did force himself back into a sitting position, trying to ignore the collection of human insides directly behind him. And the slimy piece now hanging off of his shoulder.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the monster sarcastically apologized. "Let me get that for you. Can't waste a perfectly good cord of intestines."
She made his way toward him and picked it up without a glimmer of care, leaning over him to place it back on the shelf. Meanwhile Dean turned his head, swallowing back the sudden urge to vomit up his entire stomach.
"You are one fucked up bitch," he growled, feeling his frustration mounting. The wiring was impossible to maneuver out of; he could feel threads of blood trickling from around his wrists between his fingers.
"Listen." She crouched down in front of him, way too close for comfort. "I didn't judge your diet." A smile. "Funny that you'll now be a part of mine, huh?"
Dean stared hard at her. "Bite me."
Another clear mistake.
"Sure!" she chirped happily as she swiftly gripped his shoulders, yanking him forward to sink her teeth into the thin flesh of his neck.
His jaw tightened as what felt like a set of needles stabbed into him, his gritted teeth muffling a stunned grunt of pain. Nope, definitely not human teeth.
"Get the hell off of me!" He rammed both his legs forward, aiming for her own. The teeth tore away from his neck as she lost her balance and fell back. Not wasting another second he tried as quickly as possible to lift himself to his feet. He was getting the hang of it.
And because there was nothing else he could goddamn do, he vehemently kicked her while she was down. She let out a pissed-off hiss, her head turning up to glare at him, throwing him off when he saw her usual face twisted into a fanged snarl, the whites of her eyes now a blood-red.
Obviously not down yet, he aimed to kick her again, but with speed that dazed him as much as her unnatural strength, she grabbed his leg and twisted it.
An indignant string of curses shot through his mind as he found himself crashing back into the floor, landing on his bound hands, screwing his wrists up even more. To make it that much better, his head collided with the cement, a sharp ache eating away at the place he'd already been knocked a good one.
Blinking up at the ceiling, he saw the same black splotches. If this psycho gives me brain damage, I'm going to be beyond pissed.
"Cas!" Sam called, spotting the angel after ceaseless minutes of hunting the woods for Dean.
There was no doubt about it. He was beginning to panic, not knowing where the hell Dean had been taken. All he'd seen was his brother getting knocked to the ground and slung over the shoulder of the insanely petite girl-monster, who disappeared far too quick for him to catch up. By the time he got there, there were zero signs of them- or the dog.
"Sam," Cas replied, looking pretty out-of-shape than what was his usual. He was standing in place, eyes widened slightly. "It took Dean. I couldn't stop it."
"I know," Sam muttered breathlessly, having just burst through a spot of trees. He'd run into a sight he really wished he didn't have to see. To think Cas managed to catch up to Dean and the monster had been his only comfort. "What are you doing here? What happened?"
"Enochian sigils. I'm trapped here. I don't understand... how. I can only assume they were constructed underground… under me."
Sam's stomach flipped uncomfortably. "Can they be broken?"
"Possibly, but you would have to dig. I don't know how far."
"Do you—do you think he's okay?" Sam agonized, dropping the bag they'd had along with them – a bunch of the standard weapons from the back of Dean's car, all but the knife and gun Dean had on him. Hopelessly he glanced around, trying to spot something decent he could possibly dig with.
"I don't know," Cas replied, his stare downcast, fingers twitching in what looked like nervousness. Sam had to feel bad for the guy – he'd never seen him quite this forlorn since the whole thing with Dean came to light. They'd really gotten under each other's skin, hadn't they?
"Well, Dean is usually able to take care of himself," Sam reassured, knowing it was said for the both of them. Dean better be kicking ass right now.
"You know why I chose you?" it asked him, leaning over him like a goddamn prom date trying to seduce him. Only difference was her hands gripped both of his knees, trapping them against the floor as he laid there defenselessly.
"Because I'm adorable?" he joked without humor.
He stared up at the ceiling, watching the black fade from his vision. There was a constant throbbing of nearly every part of his body – mostly his frickin' head. A stream of blood seeped from the side of his neck, probably pooling under him with the rest of the holes that were made in him.
"Because your blood burns with need," she purred.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he shot back, asking but suddenly remembering what Cas had told them – their name meant 'needy eater,' which Dean had thought was more straightforward. They needed to eat, sure. But now?
She sensed his uncertainty, so elaborated. "What? You didn't figure it out? I know what you are now, you and your company. Cas and Sam… you're all hunters. One of them quite a special kind of hunter, isn't he? But oh yes, as soon as you entered this town, your scent floated right on over."
"What, you're some kind of tiny flea-monster?" Dean insulted, thinking back on all that tied back to something to do with goddamn dogs.
"No," she said with a partial glare, "But I do like them, as you can probably tell. I only coincidentally have a keen sense of smell. But only for you needy humans."
"Sorry to say, but I think your nose bit the dust somewhere down the line. I don't have any needs." And yet Dean couldn't help but shift his eyes, fighting to keep cool as he thought of Sammy. Thought of… Cas. I mean what the hell – he'd only just thrown himself into a crazy makeout session with the guy. He swore he could feel Cas in that moment, feel him work his way inside of him, and hell had it felt so strangely right. He wondered where Cas was now. Had she taken them all? Fuck, he couldn't mull over this now.
"Right," he heard above him.
With disgust he finally looked at her. Well, her teeth were back to normal, and oh look, she was clean enough to lick the blood off of her lips. Awesome.
"What?" he glared.
"You? Not needy?" She laughed. "Come on, Dean. You know you. I know you and I barely know you. Honestly you were all a car-full of needy, but you, you were the most delicious."
"Where the hell do you get all this?"
"I was at the diner, silly, when you first got here. It's one of my favorite places to browse. Sadly the town's getting a little thin, but then you boys drove in. Then there you were, a flower to be picked." She lowered herself further and from his chest inhaled.
Dean fought not to cringe. Why the hell were all monsters so damn weird?
"You need Sam like you need air. Without him, your life would have no purpose," she whispered, the depth of her words making him uneasy. "You need Cas like he's the part of you that you're missing. Am I right?" she suddenly perked up.
"You don't know anything about me," he defended, feeling a sickening coiling within him. Hearing her mention Sam and Cas had him wishing he knew they were alright – more than he already wished. It made him want to know that this fucked up thing wasn't just toying with him while they laid dying in another room.
Again she laughed at him.
"I'm right. I'm always right. There's a reason my kind was hunted by the top dogs. Angels? They destroyed all of us. Well, most of us. So far I'm the only one I know of. When we figured out how to deal with the pesky angels, hunters ran across us by chance. My family was killed by hunters, did you know? But that was a long time ago. Don't worry, I don't hold it against them."
"There a reason you're telling me this?"
"Just some knowledge before you die."
"Oh yeah?" Dean taunted, not letting on that her mention of his death flicked on the switch for biding as much time as he could. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do to get out of this one. He couldn't help but think this just might be it – because now, more than ever, help from Sam or Cas was… needed. "How about telling me how you screwed up so bad? Not much of a threat, are you?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Everything's to plan."
"Sure, like when you took me home and ate me then."
Dean could feel the grips on his legs tightening. Good, better she be pissed.
"And good job turning them into dogs. That accomplished a lot. How's your arm?"
She suddenly growled, launching herself off of him. "Idiot. That precious angel wouldn't just accept his fate. It was perfect. You're all hunters, and what more fitting animal to be than dogs?"
The monster was ranting, which Dean found both a relief and chance to sit up. His head spun.
"A slight misjudgment! How could I know you two were in love with each other? Seriously, a sealed-off human like you and an angel, the supposed pure creatures of heaven? You two are ridiculous. You went on a date with me, for christ's sake." She whipped her head around, staring at him. For a moment the red glint in her eyes had him fearing for the seconds of his life that were left, but she merely grinned at him. A really, really gross grin.
"But you could feel it. How long did it take before you felt lonely, felt like they were steadily becoming dogs? It would've been perfect, like every other time."
Dean tried to draw in long, heavy breaths to steady the dizziness, trying to ignore her observations like she'd been watching him the whole fucking time.
"The angel toughened his way through the spell and bit me, so what? Not a scratch left. So he put me behind my meal a little? Big deal, you're here now."
"Why not just move on?" Dean grilled her.
"We can't," she spat. "As soon as we've got our target, that's it. That's all we need. We need it so much we can't be driven away. Even if I could, you do a poor job at pushing me away. Your scent got needier by the second, once that angel was back to normal. Ahhh," she visibily shivered. "It burns at me. I'm almost debating having the angel for dessert rather than keeping them two as life-long guard dogs. Sam might do."
"Don't you fucking dare go near them," Dean ground out. "I'll last you weeks, and there are enough dogs in your damn collection."
"Not nearly."
"How about you let them go in exchange for me letting you have me?"
A bark of laughter left her. "I already do."
"Yeah, but what you don't know is that I'll kick your ass. You'll be dead before you get a full bite. Don't want your meal to kill you, do you?" As he said this, he used the aching muscles in his legs and maneuvered into a stand. Fuck it, he'd climb up and down from the floor all day if he had to. This bitch wouldn't win.
"Try me," she challenged, her freaky monster fangs returning to life.
Sam pushed a dirty hand through his hair, keeping it out of his face as he leaned down to scoop out the hugest pile of dirt that he could. He took the large stick he'd found earlier and continued to dig from what they hoped was the last hole.
"I apologize, Sam," Cas said.
"No problem, man. Once we get you out of this, it'll be a lot faster than me going off to find Dean by myself. I have no idea where they'd be or how big this forest is."
"About twenty-two square miles."
Sam glanced over at Cas, smile turning up one side of his face. "Not too big for you then?"
"It's very inconsiderable compared to the distances I've travelled before. Of course, nothing is further from here than Heaven."
Cas looked contemplative. Sam wondered if he was trying to think of anything that didn't have to do with the idea of Dean being in danger. Sam wouldn't blame him. Each minute that dwindled by, he felt the anxiety build.
After maybe five more minutes, while Sam was scooping dirt from a two-foot hole, his fingers hit a smooth, cool surface. "Found it."
Cas turned his head skyward back to Sam. He remained quiet.
"So this is the last symbol that completes the circle binding?"
"Yes, I'm certain."
Sam used his hands to push and pull the stone from the dirt below, finally lifting it from its hiding place. Like he'd done with the four before, he took a spare stone he picked up elsewhere and roughly ground it into the Enochian etching.
"What's the chance it'll have the same thing surrounding its house?"
"High," Cas sighed, "But I won't allow myself to be bound again."
"Alright, got it." Sam tossed the expunged stone aside to join the rest of the pile. "So you'll—"
But like that, Cas disappeared.
Well okay then. Sam raised his hands in bemusement, clapped the excess dirt off of his hands, then went over to retrieve the bag of supplies. Just as he slung it over his shoulder, Cas abruptly appeared in front of him.
Sam couldn't stop his small jump. After recovering, "So what'd you find?"
"A ruined cabin two and a quarter mile from here, but I can't enter. There are more sigils buried around the area."
"How many?"
"Ten… to utilize the power of two bindings."
"Great," Sam huffed softly. "How about I go in when we get there to make sure Dean's you know—" Alive. "—okay." Sam swallowed.
"I wouldn't go in alone. There are reasons these creatures were on an angel's list to hunt."
"Yeah, but me and Dean, we've taken—"
"I'm sorry, Sam, but I'm to look after you when Dean's in trouble."
Huh, Sam didn't remember when Cas decided to go all parental on him, but he wasn't going to argue. Somehow it seemed smarter to trust an angel's judgment on the level of danger.
What Sam liked the least about what Cas said was exactly that – these creatures were dangerous, right? Too much for both him and Dean, apparently. So what were they going to find when they got there?
"Okay, well let's go get him."
Man, he was so screwed. So screwed.
Dean managed to dodge her first attack, seeing the threat in her stance – well, that and her entering frickin' beast mode – but hell was it tricky in a small room without arms at his disposal. He really missed his knife.
"Cat and mouse, Dean?" she growled.
"You mean flea-bag and badass?" Dean provoked.
"It's cute when you're trying to be funny."
Dean ignored that one, continuing to walk along one wall, eyes trained on her as they both read each other's movements. Reading with the exception of exceptions, anyway. Luckily for Dean, he guessed right again, avoiding her attempt to knock him back.
Y'know, if he could at least kick without the risk of tipping over, that would be awesome. Dean ran the idea through his head, but -
She pounced when he reached a basement corner, and only because it was in the same second and it was all he had, he swung a kick in her direction, using all the force in his turn that he could manage.
He heard a pained whine and it took him a moment to realize he'd closed his eyes. Hesitantly he opened one eye. She was down, arms around her stomach. Sweet. Dean didn't stand around this time, instead going for the basement door. Only way out, so there was only one way to get out. He stepped back a few paces before rushing forward, the bottom of his boot connecting with the door.
It shook, but didn't budge.
He saw 'Lily' pushing herself gingerly from the floor, her breathing labored.
He kicked hard at the door again. That time it gave a little.
"Dean," she giggled. Dean found the sound of it unpleasant coming out her distorted face. "You'll never see your brother and the angel again."
The confidence in her tone threw him, and for a second his breath stopped in his throat. By the door, he tried to gather himself before he said something stupid again. "You sound pretty sure of that."
"That's because I am."
"Trying to con me into thinking you did something to them? Because somehow I don't think you're that fast, or that strong."
"Awh, but I turned them into dogs once, didn't I? Dogs can't unlock and open doors."
Dean chuckled before he could stop himself. Couldn't open doors, huh? Dean could think of at least one that could open doors. The thought, though irritating at the time, caused him to smile now. Funny… thinking of that stupid angel could get him smiling when faced with this damn stupid death. Death by what was it – Egedenti? Could be worse, he decided.
"They'd rip your ugly face off," he countered, smirking.
The creature had clearly recovered from its blow to the stomach. Healing powers made a crappy opponent. "I'd believe you, but you've already failed to kill me."
Dean shrugged. "Unfair advantage." He casually lifted up his arms as far as they'd rise, dropping them back down a lot sooner than he expected. Now that the adrenaline had died down a bit, he could feel the weakness inside of him. Yeah yeah, so he was bleeding from his wrists, neck, and without a doubt from the back and side of his head. So? He'd taken worse. Vaguely he noticed half of his shirt was soaked in blood.
"You don't smell so good. All of that need is draining from you."
"Yeah, whatever," Dean responded dismissively.
"So you don't care about my dessert choice anymore?"
The hell he didn't. Dean immediately tensed, attempting to collect whatever strength he had left inside of him. This bitch really was toying with him. A more practiced monster would've ripped his throat out by now. Maybe she really was like a cat – sure played with food like one. Maybe there was a chance.
Dean sprinted to the side, rounding toward the shelf of Hannibal goodies. Out of nowhere he felt hands around his wrists, yanking him backward. "Got you," she hissed into his ear.
He threw his head back, steeling himself as their skulls collided and she let out an angry cry. Dean was proud until he took one step and was on the floor face-first, those abnormal sets of teeth sinking into the back of his leg. "Seriously?" he shouted, now wondering how much more of this he could take. His leg burned like her teeth were laced with branding irons.
He attempted to turn his head to look back, but on the way he saw exactly where they were. She was lying right before her precious shelf, face buried in his leg. Gritting his teeth he rolled over and used his free leg to kick her head off of him. As soon as that worked – second time, really? – he budged over and used his legs to hook around the front bar of the metal shelf setting.
It took an insane amount of effort in his waning state, but he had enough. It tilted over, guts and all, and crashed on top of her just as he jerked his legs out of the way.
Dean didn't know if that had even taken care of it, so he hurried to get to his feet, not wanting to wait for his strength to croak either. Stumbling back to the door, he was now suffering big-time from the blood-loss. Everything looked hazy around him. "Dammit," he muttered. Not yet. Sam. Cas. He had to see if they were okay. Starting at the back, he ran and crashed a foot into the door. The setting of the lock cracked. Another kick and he heard the separation.
Hell, what a workout. Exhausted and breathing heavily, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and didn't expect the haze to suddenly shift into a heavy fog, his side colliding with the floor.
With his head resting on dirty tiles, he was barely conscious as he spoke into the nothingness. Cas, you and your special lightning around? Think I got her… Cheesy, but it'd be cool to see you and Sam are breathing before I go…
"Did you hear that?" Sam asked in the midst of digging, turning to stare at the cabin only six or so feet away from them. His heart beat faster.
"Yes," Castiel replied, distressed. He paced a small space beside Sam, fingers fidgeting as he stared without stop at the cabin. He couldn't see inside of it. No, he couldn't see anything of what might be going on, but he had heard the crash and felt his wings rustle and open by their own volition. He'd also heard several bangings, like someone was trying to free themselves, but these he didn't mention to Sam. What good would the fear do for him? He would harbor it instead. "I can't get in. This is… infuriating."
Dean is alive, Dean is alive was flying through his mind on repeat, frustrating him more and more every instant that passed. So close and yet he could do nothing. He had abilities granted by the powers of Heaven and he could do nothing. He had once asked Dean if he felt safe and Dean had given him more than what was… classic, for his nature. I feel better when you're around.
Did Dean feel safe now? Now that he was not around? He had already failed.
"Seriously, maybe I should just go in," Sam offered. Castiel could hear worry.
Castiel could feel that sensation mirrored in himself. For once he wished to be rid of it. There was once a time where emotion was easier to ignore. He was not familiar with its intricacies. He was close to no one but his brethren, but even so, there was a distinct different in their classification of closeness. He could finish a task without debate. Orders were orders. Humans were to be protected, but what did emotions matter to angels? A brother fell in the line – Castiel would remember who they were – but did he ever feel their loss?
Now that so much time was spent around the two Winchesters – Dean is still alive – he felt increasingly overwhelmed. And at the moment? Very much consumed by it, and he wasn't sure where nor how to channel it.
He didn't know what decision to make. Powerless. Useless.
"Cas?" Sam questioned, now worried about two beings. Castiel felt anxious eyes on him. "There's this one I have to get, and then one more, but my brother's in there and it's making this really difficult." It was as if Sam were pleading, but Castiel could understand his desperation.
"If you go in there… and you are caught, then I won't be able to save either of you," he spoke, turning a shattered gaze on the younger Winchester.
Sam didn't say anything for a few seconds, but eventually his resolve melted into determination. "Okay."
A voice sounded within Castiel, drifting like a call from above, embedding itself in his grace as it did every time. Dean's voice. He hung to the man's words. Cas, you and your special lightning around? Think I got her… Cheesy, but it'd be cool to see you and Sam are breathing before I go…
Castiel's eyes narrowed, wishing the words were simpler to comprehend. Dean was alive… Dean was alive… but…
His stare burned their way into the cabin, wondering why it couldn't just let him see where Dean was.
"Go where?" he ended up asking out loud. "Cheesy…?"
"What?" Sam queried from his side. He'd found another sigil and was hurriedly scratching away at the symbol.
His voice brought Castiel to higher awareness. He stepped over when Sam moved to where he judged the next sigil would be placed, given the circle they'd uncovered already.
"What would he mean by 'cheesy' and that he wants to see us before he goes off somewhere? Could he have escaped behind…?"
As soon as the prospect arised, Castiel disappeared.
Sam was momentarily speechless, but then it clicked. He'd sprinted forward before Castiel had reappeared.
"He wasn't—" Castiel began, but spotted Sam running for the front door. "Sam!"
When the man disappeared, Castiel felt a fiercely unpleasant darkness sink into him, like watching the last of all that he had here on earth – all he had anywhere – slip from his fingers. Powerless. Useless.
Alone.
Sam came to with a wet sensation soaking into the hair around his face. Blearily he lifted his head, looking around at dusty cabinets, ahead toward a broken—a broken door? The scent of blood invaded his nose, and in a fit of panic he saw Dean lying beside him, on his side and skin a sickly shade of pale. Treks of blood had made their way down his neck, dripping onto the floor beneath him. Dean's shirt and jacket were soaked with it, his head of hair damp with the dark red. It didn't take long to spot that one pants leg was soaked too.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, filled with immense dread as it felt like all blood in his own body drained away. But what came out of his mouth wasn't his voice. With terrified realization, he tried to say softly, "Dean."
Nothing but a soft, whining bark left him.
Dean couldn't be… he wouldn't be…
Sam let out another loud bark, pushing his large head into Dean's chest. He didn't move. He pushed his wet nose into Dean's face, licking the side of it despite the weirdness that would've caused in any other situation. But this wasn't just any other situation.
He barked again, determined to get some sort of response. He even licked Dean's closed eyes – because no he would not fucking die.
Finally Dean moved, a soft, barely-existent breath released from between his lips. His eyes opened half-lidded and he looked dimly at Sam. "Sammy… not even your prettier face? What a lame joke…" he murmured quietly, a small grin pointed at Sam despite his feigned disappointment.
Sam whined, louder and longer than he could control. He pushed into Dean's leg, an encouragement for him to get up so they could get the hell out of here.
"Nah, Sammy. Not now. Too tired…" Dean mumbled.
Without anymore thought, Sam bolted out of the cabin.
It had been three… maybe five excruciating minutes that Castiel stood waiting outside, every inch of his body unmoving, his fists clenched at his sides. Why hadn't Sam come out yet? Had the creature gotten to him as well? Or was Dean not—not well?
But an answer was given as he saw Sam sprinting back outside – and not human in the slightest, but within his canine configuration. Castiel frowned.
Sam was barking frantically. Castiel could only translate the jumble of disorganized thought that was Dean Dean Dean is hurt Dean Dean is dying.
But Sam was yanking on the edge of his trenchcoat, trying to urge him forward. "Sam, I can't-! The sigils!"
Castiel bristled, the idea of Dean – only human – broken, hurt, and dying... It made him—made him increasingly, overwhelmingly furious. He could feel it stirring inside of him, could feel the very spirit of the emotion tug at the essence of his grace, twisting it…inversely. Never before had it feel this way, not a single time when utilizing his powers.
His wings stretched out at his sides, itching to take him inside. Sam was digging just as desperately at the dirt. It was much faster work as a dog, which Sam was grateful to notice. Before he knew it, the stone emerged and Sam quickly took it into his mouth, sharp teeth gnawing and scraping against it.
Castiel could feel the barrier weakening. Could almost see the air thinning itself of its presence. At last. Dean.
