Castiel, Jack, and Dean have been trapped in the hallway (which was more like a tunnel) for four hours.
They were going back the way they came. When they reached the slope that led them down considerably on the way in, they found it was walled off completely with concrete bricks.
"This...isn't possible", Jack said, placing his palm against the cool structure.
Cas and Dean were silent for a time, the Winchester eventually responding. "Sure it is. That bastard...who is he working with? A trickster?"
Cas clenched his jaw. "Or a witch, perhaps. Wouldn't be the first time."
"If it's a witch, this spell probably can't hold for long", Dean offered, attempting to be optimistic and douse his anger. He wondered where his tempered resolve was coming from. Certainly not his nature.
They doubled back to seek another way out, only to find a duplicated wall at the end of hall that minutes ago opened up to the room with the Devil's trap.
Jack had fumed, muttering a "sonofabitch" before sliding down the bricks, his back against them. Once sitting, he'd rested his wrists on his knees. His hands were shaking slightly with anger.
"This was all a set-up", Cas said wearily. "He wants us locked away from Alice. He knows she will come for me. For us."
Dean placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder supportively. "It won't work. Sam would never bring her here, Cas."
"I hope you're right", the Angel replied. He'd already tried to use his grace to get back to the bunker with no avail; him and Jack were stuck, too.
They resolved to wait, once it was concluded they had no other options. Wait, think, and hope what was keeping them trapped was a spell that would soon weaken. Hope that Sam and Alice would stay put. Hope that hope was enough.
Cas is now standing between Jack and Dean, both of them sitting. He is brooding and angry and fearful; all emotions he isn't used to contending with. He actually feels tired. The Angel longs to be back in the bunker with Alice, holding her protectively against him in her bed.
He wonders if it's possible that his grace is weakened as he recalls not being able to heal Sam, and not being able to leave the building now. Is the latter just a spell, or is it him? Is it possible his emotions are draining his power? And how does he keep Alice safe if that's the case.
In the moment, he is highly attuned to how she must feel-the grief, confusion, the weight of Lucifer constantly beckoning her. Always intruding on her thoughts, compounding the heaviness of her past, what she has lost. Her will and strength was magic in it's own right.
It is here, in this place of connectedness and empathy, that he remembers:
The town was being picked off.
A particularly nasty nest of Vampires had taken over. The year couldn't be pinpointed, but Castiel knew it was the early 1900's, in a small community in Alaska.
The disadvantage of the humans who dwelled there was apparent: sparse homes (some of them yurts), peppered across harsh, unforgiving terrain. The people were isolated, but also close knit-easily targeted and easily multiplied once turned-they trusted and knew their neighbors well.
The girl-named Astrid-had prayed to him. He appeared, confused and interested in why she called on him specifically. She explained that her Grandmother used to pray to him when she was a child.
Astrid wasn't a religious woman, but had fallen back to that old comfort in her desperation and terror. She knew what was happening to her town, knew before anyone else did, she surmised; but it was still too late.
She was born with an instinct to see things for what they really were-humans were more complicated, but Vampires were easy. She detected their absense of humanity and insatiable, horrifying lust for blood immediately.
Castiel learned that she lived in her yurt alone, until she had taken in a child whose parents were drained by the monsters. The child, Sage, was eleven years old.
They had been out in the woods foraging for food. One moment she was right behind Astrid, always right there at arm's length, until she wasn't. Astrid didn't hear a sound, sensed nothing, and would blame herself for the remaindor of her short life.
Seven days after Sage had disappeared, she returned to Astrid. It took one look at the girl for her to know she had been turned.
It took every ounce of strength and will that Astrid had to survive, to take off the girl's head with a machete'.
She wept openly as she told Castiel her story, and he was grave with sorrow and something akin to pity (though more genuine) as she sat next to him with shaking shoulders. He'd wanted to comfort her.
He stayed with her that night, promised to watch over her, and she got the first real sleep she'd had in so long she could not remember.
He watched her in her slumber, her chest's even rise and fall, her dark, matted hair that spilled over her shoulders and down to her waist. Her nightgown was faded, gray, and frayed at the edges.
The next day, as fate would have it, Castiel was called away on Angel radio-something in Heaven required his immediate attention. He made Astrid another promise. He would return to her the very moment he could.
And he did, but he'd been gone too long. It was just three days, but a lot can transpire in that time, especially when the situation is dire.
He found her on the floor next to her bed, crumpled and bloodless. He'd willed life return to her delicate chest, but it was too late. He mourned her. Felt incredible guilt. She believed in him and he had failed her. Left her alone. When the grief became to heavy to carry, he tucked it away deep in the recesses of his mind. He practiced the exercise so often, the memory eventually faded away into darkness.
Castiel's emotions swim and swell, his chest aches. The need to be with Alice makes him feel like he can't breathe.
Jack looks at his Father with confusion on his face. "A-are you crying…?"
Dean looks up, gobsmacked. "Cas?"
Wiping the unfamiliar wetness from his eyes, Castiel quietly nods. "This is not Alice's first time on earth."