A/N: For Tempest_Raining, who mentioned this song and BAMF!Cas. There is BAMF!Cas…and then I turn the tables and include Cas!whump also, because I'm twistedly talented that way, lol.

Song: "A Demon's Fate" by Within Temptation
Setting: Season 5, mixture of canon and AU
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam
Summary: Mess with Sam and Dean, and you'll have their guardian angel to answer to. Mess with Castiel…and the Winchesters will do far worse.


"A Demon's Fate" - Within Temptation

You'll burn this time
Seeing the violence, it's speeding my mind
No one is saving you
How can you find a heaven in this hell?

Dean cranked the wheel as the Impala careened around a bend in the highway. Tires screeched, but he managed to keep from losing traction and gunned it the moment they'd straightened out. The SUV in pursuit skidded along their tracks.

"Dammit, I can't shake 'em."

Sam twisted around in the passenger seat to look, eyes wide and harried. The Impala's engine roared like a beast as Dean gave her more power, but the demons behind them were closing in. The behemoth SUV devoured asphalt, riding up right on the Impala's bumper. Dean gritted his teeth. He expected the tap, but the force at such high speeds still almost sent them into a flip. The Impala skidded in a fast one-eighty, tossing Dean and Sam to the side like rag dolls before finally coming to a jolting stop. In the rearview mirror, Dean saw the SUV brake sharply.

He scrambled out of the car, gun in hand and exorcism on his tongue. Sam had the demon-killing knife. But there were too many, and they were on the Winchesters before Dean could even finish the Latin phrases. He got off a few rounds to at least slow some of them down while screams on the other side of the Impala and spritzes of flashing orange light meant Sam was taking out his opponents.

It still wasn't enough. One of them punched Dean hard enough to wind him, and in that moment of disorientation, an arm hooked around his neck from behind, restraining him.

He heard the thwack of wing beats, and for a split second he felt a surge of hope that Cas had come to rescue them. But then he was tossed toward two figures in suits, who grabbed his arms and hauled him up roughly. And at the sight of angel blades in their hands, Dean's heart fell.

Leave it behind
Hearing your silence
It screams our goodbye
Cannot believe it's an eye for an eye
Let us go to waste

Dean struggled against his captors' hold, but their grip was like granite, painful and unyielding. He watched an angel fly in behind Sam and grab his arm. The kid instinctively twisted around, stabbing the demon-killing knife into the thug's chest. But nothing happened. It wasn't meant for angels.

The asshat in the suit disarmed Sam, and then shoved him toward the demons, who had stopped fighting.

"Zachariah sends his thanks," one of the winged dicks said. "And as agreed, you get to keep Sam Winchester."

Dean's eyes blew wide with panic, and he tried to wrench away from the goons holding him. He met his brother's equally horrified gaze a brief moment before Dean was pulled into a rush of wind and flown away.

Angels have faith
I don't want to be a part of his sin
I don't want to get lost in his world
I'm not playing this game

Castiel banked sharply mid-flight as an angel came swooping down out of nowhere and almost struck him out of the sky. He veered toward the ground, landing in a wooded area, and whipped his blade out just as his attacker touched down behind him. Castiel spun, brandishing his blade, and the strike of celestial steel screeched stridently in the silent forest.

The other angel slid his blade free and lunged again. Castiel jumped back, narrowly avoiding the thrust, and slashed his own weapon.

"Give it up, Castiel," Nehemiah said.

Castiel steeled his jaw. He didn't want to fight his brother, but he knew all the angels had orders to kill him on sight, and it was kill or be killed. He tightened his grip on his blade with grim resolution.

Nehemiah started to stalk around him. "Look at you," he tutted. "You're pathetic. A fallen wretch, just like Lucifer."

Castiel ignored the taunt and focused on watching the twitch of his opponent's eyes, the subtle tensing of muscles to telegraph a strike.

Nehemiah made a noise of disgust. "You gave up everything for two lowly humans. And you know what?" His mouth curved upward. "It was for nothing. The vessels have been retrieved, by both sides. Soon they will say yes, and Michael will have his victory."

Castiel's blood ran cold. What?

He surged forward, lashing out with renewed vigor. Nehemiah spun away and sliced at Castiel's exposed back, but the tip only caught fabric. Castiel pivoted and parried the next blow. He then ducked under Nehemiah's raised arm, torquing his wrist as he simultaneously flipped his blade in hand, and plunged it into Nehemiah's abdomen.

A breath of surprise and pain punched from the angel's mouth. Castiel grabbed the back of his shirt collar and held him up, the blade in his sternum inches from piercing his core.

"Where are the Winchesters?" Castiel growled.

Nehemiah gasped and sputtered. "I'll tell you," he spat. "But only because you'll be delivering yourself right to Zachariah."

Castiel leaned in to Nehemiah's ear. "Where?"

"I don't know about the abomination, but Dean Winchester is being held at the Rapids City train yard until Zachariah can retrieve him. Which should be any moment now."

Castiel's jaw tightened. Then that was where he'd have to start.

With a single twist, Nehemiah's grace exploded from his chest and mouth in a blazing supernova. Castiel let the body drop and was in the wind before it hit the ground.

When the shadows remain
In the light of day
On the wings of darkness he'll retaliate
He'll be falling from grace
Until the end of all his days

Castiel landed at the edge of the old train yard and proceeded on foot. The air was sticky and muggy, the sky a pewter gray that rumbled distantly with the same promise of violence that roiled in Castiel's heart.

He soon spotted a guard of angels erected around one of the box cars, and though Dean was hidden from him with the angel warding on his ribs, this close Castiel could sense the thrumming signature of his own grace from when he'd claimed Dean's soul in Hell and put him back together on Earth.

Castiel raised his angel blade to his left wrist and dealt a swift slice. He winced at the pain. It would have been better to use a sharp implement that didn't hurt his true form, but he didn't have one on hand nor the time to seek out an alternative. Switching his weapon to his other hand, he smeared his fingers in his own blood and began to paint a banishing sigil on the side of a rail car. Once it was ready, he stepped away and into view of the other angels.

A shout of alarm went up, and the four on guard began to run toward him. Castiel pivoted and dove back toward the sigil, slamming his palm against it just as the other angels caught up. There was a flash of blinding light and echo of screams, and when Castiel turned around, the guards were gone.

He strode toward the box car, yet just as he reached it, two more angels leaped out at him. One tackled him to the ground, and Castiel rolled in the gravel to regain his feet. Silver slashed through the air, scoring a gash across his bicep. Castiel gritted his teeth and twisted away. Somewhere above, the sky fractured with similar scintillations.

He spun and thrust his blade at one of the angels, missing a fatal strike but landing a wound to his shoulder. He ducked as he felt the air displace behind him, just in time to avoid getting skewered from behind.

Castiel swung around and kicked the second attacker's legs out from under him. When the angel hit the ground hard, Castiel threw himself on top of him, stabbing him in the chest. He died in an explosion of grace.

Lightning cracked the sky so sharply with simultaneous thunder that Castiel barely heard the thwack of wings behind him. He shifted, but not fast enough, and fire lanced down his ribs. Grace illuminated the dim yard in echo of the storm raging above. Castiel moved like the wind, a blur of tan amidst tangled shadows and flickering electricity.

And with a lightning strike in tandem with the crack above, he plunged his blade into the last angel's chest, slaying yet another of his own kind.

The body slid off the blade and onto the ground in a crumpled heap, and Castiel turned toward the box car where he found Dean chained within and staring at him with wide eyes, in a mixture of trepidation, relief, and perhaps awe.

"Man, am I glad to see you," the hunter finally spoke.

Castiel flew the short distance to land in the car and quickly freed Dean of his bonds.

"Sam!" Dean suddenly exclaimed. "Demons have him—"

The air around Castiel crackled. "I'll find him."

He dropped Dean at Bobby Singer's house first, and then went in search of a demon to extract Sam Winchester's whereabouts from.

From the ashes and hate
It's a cruel demon's fate
On the wings of darkness he's returned to stay
There will be no escape
Cause he's fallen far from grace

Getting a location was easy, and fighting demons wasn't as difficult as taking on fellow angels. Except for the untimely discovery that Castiel could no longer call upon the power of smiting.

He'd exploded the door of the abandoned warehouse inward and stormed inside, all righteous wrath and fury, and the first demon to run at him, Castiel had planted a hand on its forehead and attempted to burn the corrupted essence straight out of its deceased shell.

Only, that didn't happen.

Smirking at the triumphant realization, the demon had punched Castiel hard enough to send him staggering back a step. But they still wouldn't be enough to deter him.

Lightning struck inside the warehouse, sending ominous shadows arching up along the walls. Castiel dropped his blade into his hand and stabbed the smug demon in the throat. The others charged him, and with a snap of his wings, he sent them flying backward. In the center of the room, Sam watched with round pupils as the demons hit the floor around him.

Castiel launched himself forward and swiftly mete out vengeance upon the demons that had dared to take Sam Winchester. And when the last one fell, the raging hurricane outside also silenced.

"Cas," Sam sputtered. "How did you…?"

He waved a hand to undo the ropes around Sam's wrists and ankles. "Through the grapevine," he said, trying out the colloquialism.

Sam started at something. "Dean—"

"Is fine," Castiel cut him off. "Let's go."

Without another look at the carnage, he gripped the young Winchester's arm and pulled him into the ether, relieved that his charges were once again safe.

Castiel may have fallen, but he was still a force to be reckoned with.

Ohhohoho
What have you done?
Is this what you wanted?
What have you become?
His soul's now forsaken
You're walking alone
From heaven into hell

Castiel brought Sam to Dean and Bobby, and then left to find a secluded place were he could nurse his wounds. They weren't serious, but the cuts that had been dealt by an angel blade were still raw and stung. The one he'd made on his wrist was even still bleeding, and he realized he may have let his vessel lose more blood than it should have. The pain was fitting penance, though, for the murders of his brethren he'd committed, even if it was for the right reasons.

Castiel bowed his head and lamented what he'd become. A traitor. A murderer. No matter the justness of his cause, that did not change the regrettableness of his actions. Nor the consequences.

For Castiel was fighting for a world and a future he would have no place in, even should he and the Winchesters emerge victorious. The only path that lay ahead for Castiel was the descent into Hell.

But he had chosen to defend free will, and Sam and Dean.

So he would stay his course.

Now that you know
Your way in this madness
Your powers have grown
Your chains have been broken
You've suffered so long
You will never change

When Castiel's injuries had mended enough, he lifted his chin and resumed his search for God with renewed fervor. If there was to be any hope in stopping the Apocalypse, it would come from the Creator who had set it all in motion. Castiel cast his doubts aside—why was his father not here already? Surely he knew the Apocalypse had started. Why was he hiding? …Why had he left in the first place?—and held fast to his faith that if he could just find his father and plead his case, that God would step in and save the world and people he'd loved so much from the moment he created them.

Castiel did not care for his own fate, would not dare to hope that his quest would also lead to clemency for himself. He knew the repercussions of his actions, and would bear them accordingly.

Angels have faith
I don't want to be a part of his sin
I don't want to get lost in his world
I'm not playing this game

"God doesn't care. He said we're on our own."

Castiel stood in a dingy motel room that smelled of blood and death, the Winchesters having just woken up resurrected after speaking with Joshua in Heaven's garden. He felt…numb. No, crushed, like suddenly his vessel needed oxygen and there was too much pressure on his chest and he was about to implode.

His father didn't want to be found. All this time, of Castiel desperately searching and praying, and God had purposefully been eluding him.

He wasn't going to step in. Wasn't going to stop it.

All of the taunts and mocking insults his brothers and sisters had hurtled at him in between attempts to kill him suddenly came back with vicious vengeance.

And Castiel was done. He was done playing a game where he was nothing but an expendable piece on a chessboard. Castiel tossed the amulet back at Dean. He had no more use for it. And then he left, ignoring Sam's call for him to wait.

He somehow found himself with a bottle of liquor, and idly popped it open to take a swig. The taste burned going down. Punishing. Mocking. Yet he remembered the tingle from when he'd had several shots with the Harvelles, and the way Dean turned to the bottle to ease his tortured soul. And so Castiel didn't stop until every last drop in the entire store was gone.

When the shadows remain
In the light of day
On the wings of darkness he'll retaliate
He'll be falling from grace
Until the end of all his days

Dean was going to say yes to Michael. Everything Castiel had fought so hard for—everything he had betrayed his own brothers for—was for nothing. Nehemiah had been right.

Of course, Castiel helped Sam stop Dean before he could summon the archangel, but it was only a matter of time. When the Winchesters wanted to rescue Adam from Zachariah, Castiel went along with it, simply because there was nothing else for him to do. He was a solider. He was a pawn.

And he would go out like one.

He knew better this time, and used a box cutter instead of his angel blade to carve the banishing sigil into his own chest. It was the only way he'd be able to take the five angels inside the warehouse by surprise.

They didn't look surprised when he entered. Their gazes were like steel, full of hatred and loathing for the rebel who was no better than Lucifer in their eyes. They quickly had him surrounded, but Castiel wasn't worried. Actions and consequences. He was ready.

"What are you waiting for?" he taunted. "Come on."

They converged all at once, and Castiel ripped his shirt open to expose the sigil, and slammed his palm against the raised, bloody tracks. Fire exploded through him, and he felt himself being pulled in every direction as the angels around him were flung away in the resultant power wave. Maybe Castiel would be ripped to pieces, as well.

And then everything went white.

From the ashes and hate
It's a cruel demon's fate
On the wings of darkness he's returned to stay
There will be no escape
Cause he's fallen far from grace

Castiel drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. Sometimes he felt rays of sun on his face; at others there was a nippy chill that wormed underneath his collar and froze his marrow. Everything hurt and he couldn't move. Was he really still alive?

So, not only was God uncaring, he was also cruel.

Crunching leaves and snickers disturbed his hazy rest, and Castiel's eyes flickered open blearily in time to see a group of men surrounding him. Though his grace was raw and flayed, he could still see the rotted out pits of their true faces.

"Look what we found here," one of them sniggered. "A little birdie with its wings clipped."

Hands grabbed him roughly and hauled him upright. Castiel moaned, unable to even get his feet under him.

The demon that had spoken moved in close, crooked mouth widening in a sneer. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy playing with this one."

Castiel couldn't muster any strength to resist as he was dragged away, into a moldy building that reeked of feces and mildew. Ropes that never before would have been able to contain an angel's prowess now bound his wrists and grated his vessel's skin as his arms were yanked above his head and he was left to dangle. And when the mundane weapons began to cut and burn, Castiel felt pain in ways that before then, only other angels had been able to inflict.

Ohhohoho
Angels have faith
I don't want to be a part of his sin
I don't want to get lost in his world
I'm not playing this game

Dean and Sam searched for Cas after Van Nuys. As well as they could, anyway, when they had nothing to go on. Cas had literally blown those angels away, himself included. Hell, Dean didn't even know if he was still alive after that. He had Bobby keeping an ear to the ground on any strange accountant types popping up out of the blue, but so far, nothing.

Until Dean got a random text message on his phone saying, "You'll find him here" and an address to go with it. The sender's number was just a bunch of zeros.

"Think it's a trap?" Sam asked, studying the map he'd pulled up of what looked like an old warehouse district.

Dean worked his jaw. Or maybe God hadn't quite turned his back on them after all?

He stood up. "Doesn't matter. We're bringing him home."

They packed up and hit the road, driving two and a half hours to reach their destination. At least the address the mysterious sender gave them had a warehouse number, so that narrowed down the location. Dean and Sam each now had an angel blade to go along with the demon-killing knife.

The area was quiet, and Dean was leery of a trap, especially as they ventured into the darkened warehouse and didn't come upon anything.

Until they just happened to run into a demon who waltzed around the corner. There was a brief moment of surprise and then her eyes flicked black. Dean had her slammed up against the wall and angel blade pressed to her throat before she could even make a move.

"Where's the angel?" he growled.

She laughed. "Is that why you've come?"

"Where is he?" Sam asked darkly.

"Oh, he's around here somewhere. Poor little birdie lost its wings." She licked her lips. "What will you give to have him back? Of course, he's a bit broken now." She cocked her head at Dean. "You know how that goes."

Dean removed the blade from her neck, only to thrust it up between her ribs. Her mouth flew open in shock as orange lightning flickered throughout her skeleton. He yanked the blade out and let the body drop.

"Let's go," he said, sharing a stormy look with his brother. They were going to find their angel.

When the shadows remain
In the light of day
On the wings of darkness he'll retaliate
He'll be falling from grace
Until the end of all his days

Castiel focused on the drip, drip, drip of blood trailing down his face and falling from his bowed chin. He watched the droplets splatter in the crimson puddle on the floor beneath him. Blood loss made him lightheaded, but the pain of his injuries kept him from finding relief in sleep. His grace was all but nonexistent, burned down to nothing more than flickering embers barely clinging to life. He was essentially mortal. And the captive of demons.

Thus, his fall was complete.

He heard a click and whoosh, followed by the steady sound of a blowtorch's flame. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and refused to look.

The scream that echoed through the room then didn't come from his throat, and Castiel blinked dazedly as the blowtorch fell to the ground next to a stack of crates, which immediately went up in flames. The fire crackled and spit as it scattered shadows across the warehouse. Wreathed in darkness, two figures crashed upon the demons with ruthless efficiency, firelight glinting off angel blades.

In the dancing shadows, Castiel thought he saw Dean and Sam, swooping in like a duo of terrible, avenging angels.

From the ashes and hate
It's a cruel demon's fate
On the wings of darkness he's returned to stay
There will be no escape
Cause he's fallen far from grace

Castiel watched one of the demons get thrown into the fire, its screeches grating like claws on steel. When it tried to scramble away, one of the ambushers leaped in and stabbed the demon through the back. Orange lightning and wisps of flame devoured the rest of its corpse.

And then Dean and Sam were standing before Castiel, eyes reflecting fury and violence and tongues of fire. They simultaneously reached for the ropes stretching Castiel's arms taut, and cut him down. He dropped bonelessly, two sets of hands frantically reaching to grab him.

"Whoa, easy, easy."

Castiel wanted to ask what they were doing here, but his voice was long gone and his throat was parched past the point of endurance.

"Hang on, we're gonna get you out of here."

Castiel was in no shape to help as they each slung one of his arms over their shoulders. He couldn't hold back a pained groan as the movement pulled at his wounds.

"Okay, okay," Dean murmured. "Easy does it."

They half carried him outside into the chilly night, and a shiver wracked his spine through the tatters in his clothes. But the Impala was within sight, and in a few moments, he was being eased into the backseat. Dean jogged around to open the trunk while Sam slid in beside him.

"Hang in there, Cas, we got you now."

Dean returned and bundled a blanket around him as Sam held him up, and then he was carefully laid back against the seat. Dean then handed Sam a medical kit before scrambling into the front and starting the engine. The initial push of gas jostled his wounds, and he moaned miserably.

"Shit," Sam cursed as he started peeling away the bloodstained layers to get a glimpse underneath. "This looks bad, Dean. We might need to find a motel."

"Yeah, alright." Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. "Cas?"

He opened his mouth, only for a pitiful croak to come out.

"Here." Sam snatched up a water bottle from the floor and twisted the cap off. He held the bottle to Castiel's lips and tipped it back so he could drink.

He gulped it down like a dying man.

Which, was what he was, now.

"I…" he rasped. "My 'mojo'…" he opted to use Dean's word for his grace. "Is gone."

He watched Sam and Dean exchange a worried look.

"It'll be okay," Sam said.

Castiel shook his head. They didn't understand. "I'm practically human now," he said, voice heavy with gravel and exhaustion and pain.

The Winchesters shared another look, and then Dean was meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"It'll be okay, Cas," he repeated, serious and full of promise.

Sam lifted the bottle to help him drink some more, and Castiel stayed quiet after that as the younger Winchester took a wet cloth to his face and started applying antiseptic to the wounds he could see in the dark.

Castiel thought about his descent from grace, how far he had fallen and how this fate had been inescapable from the moment he'd chosen to rebel. And yet…he had not expected to end up somewhere other than damnation, had not expected for these two boys, whom he had grown to cherish, to catch him.

Castiel marveled in a half-dazed state as Sam gently tended his wounds and Dean's fierce presence mowed down any lingering doubts or fears. Because for once, Castiel felt…safe. Here, with Sam and Dean. In the backseat of the Impala as it roared down the highway on the wings of darkness.