Revelations
Week 12
By Nan00k

Thank you for the reviews everyone!

The boys go to Texas, but unfortunately for Castiel, they don't find Crowley or Jesse there. They find something much worse. D: Poor baby.

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Warnings: graphic violence, foul language, brief descriptions of sexual acts, religious overtones, original characters, canon/OC pairing, canon pairings, alternative universe (post season five)
Disclaimer: Supernatural © Eric Kripke/CW. I only write this mess.

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Nebraska

Castiel got the next real lead from Raphael's people, strangely enough. It wasn't like Heaven had the resources to track down one single demon, Castiel repeatedly told Dean when he asked about Crowley, but the sudden surge of demons down south was too much to ignore. They had another, more important mission to handle foremost and that was finding Jesse.

"Texas?" Dean repeated, glancing at the angel as he drove through more bland American landscape.

Castiel merely nodded, knowing his friend's irritation was directed at their situation rather than himself. That was the only comfort he could take from the moment, however. "Several hundred demons swarmed in Lamesa, Texas," he replied. "We might as well take it up as a lead for where Jesse is."

Dean sighed heavily and fixed his eyes out on the road. "Well, here's to another fourteen hours driving nonstop," he muttered.

"I could fly us there," Castiel said, glancing at him and Dean glanced back.

"No offense Cas, because I trust you as far as my life…" the human began, humor and seriousness mixed in his eyes, "but I don't trust you with my baby. Not unless it's do or die, man."

Perhaps he could have taken offense at that, but Castiel just nodded, smiling quietly. He was just beginning to understand the attachment humans had to material things. It wasn't a bad thing. Just… human.

"You staying for the ride?" Dean asked, sounding forcefully disinterested. Castiel didn't mention the slight tremor. The loneliness.

Castiel sat back further in the seat of the car as they drove over smooth asphalt. "For as long as you will have me, Dean," he replied calmly. He waited for a rejection, if there was one.

As expected, Dean just smirked and shrugged. Music sang from the speakers and Castiel found himself finding a chance to catch a metaphorical breath. He had finally returned to Heaven and, perhaps, his brothers and sisters had achieved their own peace…

But he never felt better sitting there next to the broken human.

Closing his eyes, Castiel pretended to be thinking of battle plans for once they reached Texas, even as he spent most of his time counting heartbeats and breaths coming from Dean.

In someway, he had found something better than Heaven right there. He wasn't going to complain.

0000

Oklahoma

Dean checked into another roadside motel several hours later, back aching. He was never one to hate driving, but only driving for an entire day was just plain exhausting. They would reach Lamese the next day. Until then, all he wanted as a decent mattress and a shower. Castiel gave him a nod goodbye once he pulled into the motel parking lot (it looked rattier than the usual spot, but Dean just wanted some sleep at that point) and then vanished. Same old, same old.

With a single's key in hand, Dean stumbled into a bare, but not too awful bedroom. It even had a mini-fridge in the corner. He was only interested in the bathroom and the bed, though. After fumbling around, he finally got his wishes.

"Ugh…" He groaned as he hit the light and sank into darkness and a semi-soft bed. The blankets sort of smelled like cigarettes, but he wasn't about to complain if he got some sleep—

"You're still looking for Jesse?"

"Yeah?" Dean shot back, defensive although he wasn't sure why.

Sam made a tsking sound and took up one of his bitch faces. "I thought you were looking for Crowley," clearly not having much faith in Dean's plans.

Standing opposite of him, Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. We are," he said, now feeling like he had to defend his actions from his over analytical brother, as usual.

"But now you're looking for Jesse," Sam replied, arching an eyebrow. Above them, the tree hardly swayed under a nonexistent wind.

"We can multitask," Dean said firmly. He paused and looked upwards. "We still got eight months."

"To find the Antichrist and the new King of Hell?" Sam asked, incredulous. When Dean looked back at him, Sam shook his head. "Dean… don't you think you should take this one step at a time?"

"We're doing our damn best," Dean snapped. He hesitated and rubbed a hand over his face. He didn't know why he was so frustrated. They were trying. They really were.

Sam nodded, pensive. "You and Cas."

"Yeah." Dean sighed, nodding back. "Because…"

Everything slowed down. He forgot to breathe. Looking up, he saw Sam staring at him in a show of eternal patience.

Sam.

"Because you're not there," Dean said, his own voice startling him. It was too quiet now.

A shimmer of something flashed over Sam's eyes. Maybe regret. "I'm sorry," he said, voice too quiet to distinguish if he meant it or not. "You wish I was there. Instead of Castiel. Don't you?"

The question caught him off guard. But he didn't care about answering. All he could do was stare at Sam, the pond and the trees almost fading. Everything faded and all he could see was Sam standing there, waiting.

"Why did you jump?" Dean asked, voice piercing everything.

That actually made the taller man pause. "Dean…" he began quietly.

"Why?" Dean asked again, heart racing for some reason. He stepped closer and trembled. "Why did you jump?"

Sam just stared at Dean and smiled sadly in reply. Dean felt his heart break. He reached out and grabbed Sam by the collar. Sam let him, never moving an inch.

"SAM!" he shouted, slamming him into the tree. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS? !"

Why did he do that? Why did he do that him? To Dean? To HIM? Why did he leave him all alone, with all of this mess, when there was a damn thing he or anyone else could do for Sam when everything Dean was supposed to be had crumbled the big brother the family the protector all of it had FAILED—

"Dean!"

Eyes searing, Dean woke up facing darkness. It was still night out, with streams of light from the lamps outside breaking through the ratty curtains on the windows. He saw someone standing next to the bed, and for a moment, he thought it was Sam.

The trench coat gave it away, however. "Cas?" Dean rasped, sitting up, mind stumbling to keep up. "What's wrong?"

"I heard you," the angel said, sounding almost… mad. He moved to the side to let Dean turn the bedside lamp on. He didn't have to squint like Dean did from the onslaught of light that resulted. "Your dreams. You were very… loud."

"Jesus…" Dean ran a heavy hand over his face. What had he been dreaming of? "Sorry. Didn't think you were still listening in."

Castiel tilted his head, frowning. "Only when you shout," he replied. Dean wasn't sure if the angel had just tried sarcasm or not. It was too freaking early for it, anyway.

"I said sorry," Dean said, trying not to snap. He stared up at Castiel blearily. "What? It was just a dream."

He didn't like the way Castiel was staring at him still. The sleep in his eyes made it difficult to decipher the expression the angel was wearing at first, but as they adjusted, Dean could see confusion, wariness… pity.

"You were with Sam," Castiel said plainly, even though his words were like a fist to the gut.

Dean stared back, forcing himself to keep calm. "Yeah?" he asked, hating how he sounded defensive. He yanked the bedcovers up from where he had tossed them. "Well, can't say I have much control over that, Cas. What I dream."

He missed seeing the hesitance that flashed over Castiel; instead, he felt it through the air. Dean exhaled softly, stopping his movements.

After what seemed like forever, Castiel spoke up. "I apologize if it was upsetting," he said simply. "It was very vivid for a dream. It caught my attention."

"Well, don't make it a habit dream walking on my thoughts, okay?" Dean said shortly, unable to keep his patience. He was damn tired. "It was just a dream."

Castiel stared down at him, eyes distant. "Yes. It was just a dream," he repeated.

When the angel didn't disappear, Dean glanced up at him. "You gonna stand there all night?" he demanded. It was mean to shove the angel away when he had just been concerned, but he didn't feel like being nice.

That time, he didn't miss the flinch from the angel. Castiel held his gaze for a moment, before looking away.

"I'll be near," he said simply before disappearing, leaving Dean sitting there alone.

Chilled to the bone, Dean hit the light and willed himself to get some real sleep.

0000

It was a Saturday afternoon when they reached Lamese, Texas. Dean checked into a motel to set up a base camp, because to be honest, not even Castiel knew what to expect. Dean had been glad the angel had been aloof for most of the day's drive down. When he finally did appear in the Impala's passenger seat, Castiel seemed perfectly ready to ignore the tense situation they had had the previous night, which was just fine by Dean.

"Where are we looking first?" he asked, eyes skimming the sidewalks as they drove through the town. "This place is pretty big for a demon get-together."

"I cannot sense anything out of the ordinary, but that could be interference from Jesse," Castiel replied, watching the people outside the car.

Dean hummed. "Well, I guess we should look for the more secluded areas. If I was that kid, I would want to be away from everyone," he said. There were several older warehouses on the outskirts of the city, from the town's industrial background. Big empty warehouses were evil's favorite recluse, from what he learned.

"Why?" Castiel asked, frowning.

Sighing, Dean shrugged as they began to lose sight of the bustling side of town. "Well, that's what happened the first time. He left because he was sick of everyone interfering with his life," he said, frowning. "Don't see why that would be different now."

"If he chooses to attack the Host…" Castiel began, a warning rearing up in his voice.

They turned off onto another road. Dean could see a large silo looming over the tree tops. It looked promising. "He won't," he replied, sure of it.

Castiel stared at him with a guarded look. "You have a lot of faith in the Antichrist." He almost sounded amused.

"I thought me and Sam were the Antichrist figures here," Dean said, smirking. Castiel didn't smile back, though Dean was pretty sure the angel got the message. "I have faith in a thirteen year old boy doing the right thing. He did it at age ten. He can do it again."

The angel was quiet for a moment before nodding slightly. "…Perhaps," he agreed.

They fell back into silence and it was well timed, because Dean suddenly got the feeling they were in the right part of town. The silo was on a large fenced in property that seemed like it had been abandoned ages ago. Maybe an old oil refinery. He was more interested in the large metal building at the center of the compound, which would have been great for hiding an army. Or a child.

The fence was down by entrance, so Dean eased the Impala closer. If they needed to make a quick getaway, he wanted the car facing the other way toward the road again. They couldn't be too careful.

"Well, ain't this creepy. Must be the place," Dean whistled as he stepped out of the car. Everything was incredibly still around the entire place, except for crickets chirping. "You sense anything, Spidey?"

"No," Castiel replied automatically, not even paying mind to the reference. He stepped out of the passenger side and peered out at the building with narrowed eyes. "It is far too quiet, however."

Dean was inclined to agree with that analysis. Everything around the factory was rusted and at least twenty years old. Nothing moved. The sun was setting slowly, so they only had a few daylight hours left to do a proper search before things got even creepier.

Such was the average job for Dean Winchester. He sighed and led the march over the weed-infested asphalt.

Castiel followed silently as they inspected the exterior of the building. Windows were smashed, but nothing screamed out demonic to Dean. Castiel never responded at all, so there must not have been demons around. Or they were being hidden. With Jesse involved, Dean realized they had to expect the unexpected on a whole new level. The kid could create anything from nothing, after all, so demons hiding in the walls had to be anticipated.

After what seemed like forever peering around, they started to walk toward one of the obviously locked doors. It wouldn't take much for either angel or hunter to kick it down, but before they even got close, Castiel spoke up.

"Dean."

The hunter froze, but obediently turned to face Castiel, who was no longer gazing up at the building. His intense eyes were fixed on Dean's. "What?" Dean asked, trying not to be defensive. He didn't like how Castiel was suddenly focused on him; they were on a job after all.

"It's okay," Castiel said suddenly, startling Dean. He paused and added with a respectfully distant voice, "That you dreamt of Sam."

Oh. That's what he meant. Dean stared at the angel and tried to think of something intelligent and yet not asshole-like to say in reply.

"…Yeah," he bit out, failing at least on the first level. He forced himself to remember that Castiel was socially inept. He said stupid things, but that was okay. Dean turned around, trying to think of only finding Jesse inside.

"You haven't grieved yet," Castiel continued ignorantly, walking behind Dean. He radiated patience and not pity. That was the only reason Dean had the strength not to react in anger.

"Cas, this ain't exactly the best time for a man-to-man chat," Dean shot back, gritting his teeth.

There was a few seconds of silence and Dean thought it was over. He had reached the metal security door and pushed on it experimentally. It had to be broken down from the inside, unfortunately.

"…I never know," Castiel said, voice quiet.

Dean froze and looked up at his friend. The angel had walked up closer, but stayed a few feet back, watching Dean.

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"The right time," Castiel answered, jaw tense with… apology? Or was that self-irritation. "For these sorts of things."

This was not what Dean wanted. Not now. He didn't want to talk about things that fucking mattered. Withholding a sigh, he struggled to find his own patience.

"…You try. I appreciate it, even if you're annoying," he said, forcing a grin. He nodded back at the security door, planning to direct the angel into flying inside to unlock it for him or just knock it down. "Focus on finding the demons for now, okay, Cas—?"

Without any warning, the security door ripped open, slamming into Dean, and sent him flying across the black top. He hit the ground hard, pain ricocheting up his arm and shoulder until he skid to a stop. His face scraped against the rough ground and everything spun.

And then, instinct kicked in. He heard Castiel snarl something and then screeching. Everywhere.

Demons.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore, struggling to get up and hand going for the knife on his hip. All he saw was Castiel's coat swing by and something else moving on just beyond him. "Cas—!"

A leg came up and slammed into Dean's stomach. He fell back down, wheezing against obviously cracked ribs. Maybe broken. Someone reached down and grabbed him by the scalp, dragging him up against the protest of his ribs.

"Dean Winchester," the demon in front of him snarled with a bright grin on its face. Its poor host's eyes were black. "Where ever is your better half? Or would he be the worst?"

"Fuck off!" Dean shouted back, grabbed a hold of the hands on his head. He couldn't budge the hand, but if he could just reach for his knife—

Castiel appeared, as always, without warning, but that was okay. He could remove the hands and did so without breaking a sweat. There was fresh blood on his coat sleeve as he snapped the wrist of the demon, who howled and jerked away. Castiel reached out and excised the demon out of the host with a flash of light.

Before Dean had the chance to feel good about their change in luck, he realized Castiel was still looking around the compound with wild, dangerous eyes. They weren't alone, it seemed.

This was all going to hell rather fast for Dean's taste. "Is Jesse—? !" he began, trying to stand again. His ribs were killing him.

"No, just demons," Castiel said, glancing at Dean urgently. "Get ready to mov—!"

Dean almost blinked, but he was glad he didn't. He would have missed a black blur appear out of no where right in front of his eyes—which proceeded to slam straight into Castiel and sent him across the yard in the opposite way.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, stumbling. He couldn't move, not that fast.

Castiel was on the ground—on the ground—and what was standing over him looked like just another demon. But it couldn't be. Not with the way Castiel was looking at it. Dean thought about going for his gun, but he doubted it'd be much use. The knife burned in his hand.

"You are one of the Fallen," Castiel grit out, kneeling now. He eyed the demon above him with a fierce glare. "The ones who chose to Fall with Lucifer."

The demon—angel?—grinned maliciously. "Aww, little brother remembers me. How cute," he sneered, before lunging once again.

Dean remembered reading all the shit Sam would send his way for "research" after they had met Castiel and his merry family of creeps in the first few weeks. The Old Testament mostly, but the longest (and most boring) had been something called Paradise Lost. Fallen angels. Lots of them. Princes of Hell. Dean remembered that much.

Yeah, things really, really could not have gotten any worse than they were.

The two angels, well angel and demon, continued to fight, dodging each other with far more speed and skill than Dean even wished he had. Castiel never broke a sweat, though. He was Castiel, after all.

"All of this work for nothing," the Fallen angel kept taunting, blocking a punch that Dean was certain could break through solid concrete easily. "We will resurrect our Father… and we will… destroy your Host!"

"Belial, you will never succeed in—!" Castiel shot back, eyes blazing.

The red-eyed creature snarled. "Shut up!" he said, voice booming. "Come on, angel, get a grip. We allll know how this ends." He grinned, teeth shining white through the dim light of dusk, even as the two angels fought closer and closer. "You know especially, since you ruined it the first time. Well, never again!"

Dean found the strength to run back to the car. They didn't need the knife. They needed the other one. He fumbled with the bag he had set on the backseat. The shotgun in one hand, he saw a flash of silver and grabbed for it with his other, mind on fire—

Turning, Dean expected to see the fight still going. It was. He started to run back, chest burning—

And then, without warning, everything screwed up. Castiel either tripped or was kicked down, because the next thing Dean knew, his angel was on the ground and suddenly, he realized they were screwed.

The Fallen angel was on top of Castiel in a heartbeat, it's jovial attitude long gone. Its eyes shone red and it loomed over Castiel, claws embedded in Castiel's collar, literally.

"Tell me where the Scion is!" it roared.

Castiel didn't even blink. "No."

Three more vicious strikes threw the angel's head back and forth, but he never made a sound. The red-eyed angel drew back, hissing. "Tell me!" it demanded.

"Go…" Castiel choked out, hands grappling at the fingers around his throat, "die in a fire."

Dean made a mental memo to give the angel a pat on the back for that one. He needed some work, but hey, at least he remembered to try being the sarcastic asshole Dean had tried to raise him to be.

The command didn't do much more to piss the already enraged demon off. Looming over the angel, it made a series of strange noises Dean couldn't decipher. "I may be Fallen, brother," the demon spat, reaching up, "but I remember."

Dean really wanted the look of fear in Castiel's expression to have just been in his mind, but after what happened next, he realized that the angel had truly been stricken with terror. For good reason.

"I remember your tricks!" the demon shrieked, before plunging his hand, forearm and nearly his elbow, straight into Castiel's chest.

Mind going blank with shock, Dean knew he should have reacted. At first, he would have guessed the move would be painful, but not fatal. Castiel was an angel now, a full-blooded one. A little flesh wound like a punch through a chest? Ha, it would have been a bitch, but not the end of the world.

However, Dean had about three seconds to recover from that before something else happened. Something unexpected… and horrible.

Castiel made a horrible gasping sound the moment the demon's limb plunged through his chest—and then, he started to scream. Not yell, not curse—no, he started screaming bloody murder.

Dean hit the ground as the shrieking turned into the elevated, burning hum he recognized as the true voice of an angel—Castiel's real voice. It was impossibly loud and the windows on the Impala shattered almost instantly. Dean tried to stand upright, but his ears were most likely bleeding. He couldn't think with all of the pain and noise. He hunched over, yelling out as well. The noise kept coming and coming—Castiel kept screaming.

Somewhere in all of that, Dean remembered why Castiel was screaming. Forcing himself to look up, he saw the Fallen angel, his elbow sticking out of Castiel's chest as the angel writhed and screeched on the ground. He had never—never, ever—seen something like this, where an angel was literally brought to a level of madness through pain. Castiel never yelled when he was in pain. Whatever was happening was killing him.

Dean didn't know where he got the strength, but he found himself grabbing the shotgun in his other hand, now that the Fallen was preoccupied. The possessed body wasn't fairing too well under the angelic screams either, so Dean had his chance when the demon was completely absorbed in doing whatever it was doing to Castiel.

The shotgun blasts were lost to the symphony of the humming, which continued for a good five seconds after the Fallen was physically knocked away from Castiel's prone form. Dean collapsed, just as the demon struggled to its own feel, snarling with burning red eyes.

"—KILL YOU!" the demon screeched, lunging across the field. Dean fell backwards, hands fumbling—

The Fallen let out a horrible bellow when it finally landed on Dean. The human felt the clawed hands rip into his shoulder and he was certain several ribs had been fractured from the collision that time, but he was the lucky one. With a howl of defeat, the red-eyed monster tried to wrench away, with the angel-killing knife buried in its chest.

With a flash of white light that forced Dean to close his eyes tightly, the Fallen angel fell backwards again, dead. Dean lay on the ground for… possibly a minute at most. He didn't have the strength to think about moving, let alone actually doing it.

The compound and surrounding area was deathly still and quiet after that. Dean forced himself to roll over, breathing heavily. Everything hurt, but hurting could wait. They had to get out of the open. If two demons had found them, there was no telling who, or what, was watching them now.

When Dean looked up, he sought out Castiel. It wasn't difficult to find the angel, who was sprawled where the demon had left him. There wasn't a gaping, bloody hole in his chest. It was like nothing had happened.

However, from the way Castiel was suddenly breathing as if he was dying, Dean realized something was very, very wrong.

"Oh, God… oh… shit," he stammered. Dean stumbled to his feet, rushing over to his friend, kneeling down, eyes wide. "Cas… Cas?"

Castiel's eyes were tightly squinted shut and he was inhaling oxygen like it were water and he hadn't had any for years. Dean felt something cold sweep through his gut.

"Cas! A-are you okay? !" he demanded, reaching down and grabbed Castiel by the shoulder.

That got him two bright blue eyes staring up at him, shining with agony. "Dean…" Castiel managed to say through gritted teeth.

This was wrong. This was all wrong. "Oh, man…" Dean knelt there, feeling utterly helpless. "This… okay, what happened?" Castiel's eyes almost closed, but Dean grabbed his shoulder again. "Hello—stay with me here, Cas! Focus! What did he do? !"

"Spell—," Castiel bit out again, voice hoarse. He looked like he was dying. "Grace."

One word sent dozens of questions through Dean's mind. Grace? Castiel's angelic grace? Did… that mean the Fallen had…? "…He was fucking around with your Grace?" Dean managed to ask, horrified.

Castiel swallowed and stared up at the sky, begging for mercy with his expression alone. "Meant for—human—souls," he said shakily. His whole body spasmed in a way an angel's vessel just shouldn't have. "I can't—move."

Dean had never felt more helpless or out of his element. "Please, please tell me you can heal from this," he said, trying not to beg. He probably sounded like he was. He felt like begging. This wasn't happening. This couldn't have been—

"Can't… not alone," Castiel managed to say, sending Dean's denial crashing back down. He clenched his eyes shut again in pain.

Oh, fuck. Oh FUCK. "Get out of there then," Dean said, ignoring how his own voice wavered. "Get back to Heaven and get one of your buddies to help you then."

"I…" Castiel paused to catch his breath—since when did angels breathe?—and seemed to wilt even more. "Trapped."

Trapped? Trapped? What the HELL did that even mean? !

"Oh, Jesus—fine." Dean stood up and stared down at Castiel, forcing himself into the serious, non-panicking mode his father had almost beat into him. Any situation, a Winchester could handle it. "Alright. We're getting you back to the damn hotel and I'm calling Gabriel." From there they could—

Castiel inhaled, the sound horrible, as he lurching upright as far as he could. "No!" he croaked, eyes wide with fear rather than pain. "Stays with Deborah!"

"She can get a new babysitter," Dean snapped, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"Dean!" Castiel snapped. He fell back against the ground, trying to take in deeper breaths. When he spoke, it was weaker, but the razor sharp tone was still there. "Follow… the plan."

Fuck the plan. Burn it, blow it up, destroy it—Dean was sick of goddamn plans and all the crap they did to his life. He wanted to forget everything and force the archangel to get his feathery ass over to where they were, to fix Castiel, before something worse happened.

But then he remembered why there was a plan, and he stopped himself. Dean watched Castiel breathing like an old man on life support, draped across the ground like he had been crucified. The only time Dean had ever seen the angel this bad was when he had been half-human and teleporting them through time. This time, however, Castiel wasn't passing out. He looked like he wanted to, but angels couldn't sleep. This was just pain.

"Are you dying? !" Dean demanded, trying to keep calm. He couldn't handle this now. He just couldn't…!

"…I…" the angel started, but he lost the energy to speak.

This was not how it was supposed to go. Dean couldn't fix this. He couldn't. Why wasn't this him being injured? Castiel could fix him in no time. But not the other way around.

Dean couldn't fix this.

"I'm going to call to tell him to send someone else then, okay? !" the human said, trying his hardest not to panic. He held a hand out to steady Castiel's shoulder once he got him upright. "Better yet, give me a name you trust. I'll—I'll pray." There had to be somebody up there who would listen.

Castiel shook his head, or at least tried to. "Too…" he began, but suddenly trailed off. His head dipped downward and a flare of unadulterated panic seared through Dean's gut.

"Cas? CAS!" he shouted, grabbing the angel by the lapels. He dragged the unresponsive form upright, trying to make eye contact. "Don't you fucking dare pass out on me, you pansy with wings. Let's go!"

By the grace of somebody watching out there, Castiel was still conscious. His eyes were out of focus and he made no effort to help or hinder Dean as the taller man dragged him to the passenger side door of the Impala. Dean's heart beat furiously as he managed to get the angel into the seat, panic only growing worse when Castiel just sagged to the side, wheezing. After shutting the door, Dean ran around the front of the car on unsteady legs, mind set on getting to the motel in record time.

And then he prayed.

Raphael, listen up you sorry fuck, you know who this is. Send one of your goons down here, right now, we just got our asses handed to us by one of Jesse's people!

Speeding toward the main part of town, Dean kept sending the collapsed angel in the passenger seat desperate looks.

"Hang there, Cas," he said, trying to just keep Castiel focused. The angel was staring upwards, eyes shining. "Don't go anywhere. This—this is going to be fixed ASAP, as long as your damn angel buddies actually answer the phone for once." Dean licked his lips, turning the car sharply. "Alright—alright, listen to my voice and just don't… leave."

Castiel shuddered so violently, it was visible in the dark. "Dean…" he rasped, maybe trying to chide Dean's nervousness, or it was just a plea. Never had the angel ever looked so—so—mortal.

Raphael, you SORRY SON OF A BITCH, get the FUCK down here and HELP US—

"Don't say anything. Listen," Dean said, coaxing, just trying. He cracked a weak smile, forcing himself not to drive too fast or else he'd crash the car. "You probably know all about me, but let me think… um… we never did get around to getting you to watch Star Wars did we? The good ones, not those shitty new ones with that creepy kid as Darth Vader."

Castiel inhaled a ragged breath and Dean ground his teeth. Why the FUCK wasn't Raphael answering—? !

"The story's totally up your alley, man, with the whole, you know, good versus evil. Almost ironic to watch it now." Dean laughed weakly, his grip on the steering wheel burning his skin. "Uhh, there's this guy, Luke, who lives on this one planet with his aunt and uncle. It's in the future, but not, and there are space ships and, uh, more of that fancy space technology Sam always talks about. Not Star Trek but close. Anyway, there're these robots and—"

He kept rambling as much as he could, always making sure Castiel was listening. He wasn't sure if Castiel was actually paying attention to the words, but the angel kept his eyes open. Dean felt horrible, knowing the angel was in agony, but angels didn't sleep. They didn't pass out. And if Castiel did either of those things—they obviously were in over their heads.

The motel parking lot came up faster than he had anticipated and the car bounced onto the slightly sloped parking spot. Dean fumbled with his door after grabbing the keys. Castiel had slumped over against the window completely, his breath making fog on the window.

Oh, God don't be dead. Please, don't be dying—

Dean opened the door and was glad Castiel was able to stay upright in the seat. The human had no time to feel confident that his friend was better off than he seemed, because the moment their eyes met, all Dean could read in Castiel's inhuman blue eyes was pain, agony, wordless frustration and—

Fear.

The moment to stand around was over. Dean grit his teeth and steeled his heart. They were going to be fine. They just needed to buck up and—just take this one step at a time.

"When this is over," Dean muttered, grabbing Castiel by the arm, "you owe me, big time."

He hauled the angel up, bracing the full weight of the smaller man over his shoulders, and managed to drag him toward the door.

0000

Getting back to the motel had been Hell for both of them, for different reasons. Dean had tried fervently to reach Raphael, but Castiel knew that they couldn't expect help from his brother. As far as Raphael was concerned, Castiel was better off dying.

He didn't know if he was dying. He felt like he was. Everything felt wrong. His Grace—it wasn't where it should have been. Shifted. Mutilated. If he were capable of tears, Castiel would have none left at that point.

"Shit, shit—drugs don't even work on you now, damn it," Dean was muttering. He was rummaging through his supplies, trying to fix what should never have been damaged. Trying so hard.

Castiel wanted to tell him it was alright and that he just needed time, but the pain wouldn't let him speak. He lay on the bed, jerking every once in a while from a spasm of pain, shivering, feeling incoherent. This was worse than the time he had become human.

Everything hurt.

"I'm going to get ice," Dean was saying, though the words didn't quite add up in Castiel's mind. He saw the human gesture at him, panicky, before heading for the door. "I'll be right back, Cas. Don't—move. I'll be right back!"

The door slammed shut and echoed a thousand times over Castiel's burning mind. He wanted to fly, but his Grace wouldn't cooperate. His wings were useless. He was useless.

What if Jesse was there? Or more demons attacked? He couldn't just lie there. Dean needed his help. Castiel tried to move, but his human form was just as disconnected from his Grace as his Grace was to his mind. Everything felt heavier than it should have. Everything burned.

This too shall pass.

Castiel couldn't remember when he had begun to breathe as if he actually had it. It almost helped, gasping in cold air, to soothe the fire in his chest. He curled up on his side, trying to hold off the agony. If only he could sleep. Sleep—to hold it all off.

…and God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted, beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it….

The floor creaked and Castiel felt someone loom behind him. For a moment, all fear left him, because he felt the warmth of a friend.

"Dean…?"

Castiel froze when he felt four fingers touch the back of his head with unnatural lightness—and then all he knew was peace.

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Next: The boys have a visitor and Dean has more problems.

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A/Ns:
-The Grace distorting maneuver the demon pulled on Cas? I stole that from Castiel in Season Six, when he soul-searches that kid who had the Staff of Moses (The Third Man). XD I figured it might work on supernatural creatures too, only for Cas, it's his Grace and not a soul that's been tortured.
-Paradise Lost is an epic poem by John Milton. It's long, difficult to read, but super interesting. If you like Supernatural's take on the Devil, you'll love Milton's. :) Lucifer is quite the sympathetic character in it. I highly recommend it.