Chapter Three

Castiel slumped in his chains, every muscle clenched with pain. Every heaving breath that escaped his lungs stretched the wounds on his back painfully.

Zachariah was standing in front of him again. Castiel could hear him walking around to face him even though his eyes were squeezed shut. The other angel reached out and gripped his chin roughly though, pulling his face up and forcing Castiel to open his eyes.

"So, Castiel, have you learned who you serve now?" Zachariah asked expectantly.

Castiel took in the angel standing over him, the smug look on his face, and the lash he still held in one hand that was dripping Castiel's blood. He couldn't see his back, but he could tell his flesh had been torn up horrifically. He could feel blood and grace both dripping down the sides, soaking into the waistband of his trousers, creating small pools on the concrete below him. He knew Zachariah would only get more creative as they went on. Inflict more and more pain on Castiel until he couldn't do anything but beg him to stop, give in and say whatever it was Zachariah would want to hear. He'd done it before.

But something was stopping him now. Perhaps it was seeing the determination in Dean Winchester in whatever he did. The human hunter might have been broken coming out of Hell, but he was still a man who held a large amount of defiance and self-awareness around him and Castiel couldn't help but admire that. And Sam, defying the odds of what the angels said he would become by casting off the demon that had been controlling him, and beating his addiction to demon blood. These men might be the only ones who could stop the apocalypse, especially now that Castiel knew exactly what was destined to start the whole thing, and the angel found that he wanted to be there when they did it. He wanted to help them. The love and devotion Sam and Dean shared toward one another was enough to survive anything. Castiel wished he could have a relationship like that with his own siblings.

So he turned his eyes up to meet Zachariah's, showing that he still had some defiance in him, and shook his head. "I already told you, Zachariah. I serve our Father, but I will not obey these false orders from Heaven. I will not obey you."

Zachariah's grip on his chin tightened, his fingernails pressing deeply into flesh as he leaned closer and snarled into Castiel's face. "Are you sure you want to make that decision, Castiel?"

The captive angel didn't say anything. Simply continued to meet the gaze of his superior with steely determination.

Zachariah made a small, scoffing noise in the back of his throat as he released Castiel and stepped back, moving toward the cart of instruments of 'education'. "I can see you are still defiant," he said as he set the bloody lash down and looked through the other options. "You could use some more reminders of why angels are not to consort with humans."

"We are supposed to be their shepherds," Castiel tried to protest, though knew Zachariah wouldn't care for that sentiment.

The angel scoffed mockingly again. "Shepherds? Please, Castiel, that idea is old fashioned even for you."

He picked up a small jug from the table and nodded to Malachi who came over promptly and took it from Zachariah. He pulled out a small metal bowl from underneath the cart and poured some liquid from the jug into the bowl. Castiel wasn't sure what it was until Malachi lit a match and threw it into the bowl before quickly stepping back when there was a brief flare of flames.

Zachariah took up a metal rod, and dipped it into the burning pot, letting it get hot before he pulled it out, tip glowing a bright white.

Castiel shifted in his chains, swallowing hard. Holy fire, despite its name, actually did more damage to angels than it did to demons. It was one of the only things besides angel blades that could actually hurt them, not only burning the flesh of whatever vessel an angel might be using, but their true form as well.

"You could do with a good, old-fashioned, cleansing, Castiel," Zachariah said with a hint of satisfaction on his face. "And what better way to remind you of your place than holy fire?"

"Zachariah please," Castiel said, begging despite himself.

The plea brought a smirk to Zachariah's face as he stopped in front of Castiel, holding up the brand. "Will you repent?"

Castiel's eyes were fixed on the glowing brand, throat tight. But he remembered the endless torments Dean went through at the hands of Alastair, how even after everything he faced the demon down to save his brother. Castiel hadn't endured a fraction of what the human had, and if there was still a chance that he could get out of this, after Zachariah was finished teaching him his lesson—providing he still had his mind at the end of it—then he had to take that chance to warn the Winchesters of what was coming.

So he met Zachariah's gaze boldly. "I will not repent what I truly believe."

Zachariah shook his head. "Very well then, Castiel. We'll see if you change your mind after this."

Castiel tried not to flinch as Zachariah brought the brand toward the center of his chest, right above the place where the heart of his vessel rested, which, in Castiel's own anxiety, was beating rapidly.

"This is a reminder of who you serve, Castiel," Zachariah told him. "You would do better to remember that."

The brand finally connected with his skin and Castiel was unable to help the cry that tore from his lips. The smell of burning flesh combined with the feeling of his grace sizzling upon contact—it was agonizing.

Zachariah was quick to reheat the brand and before long was pressing it to the tender flesh of Castiel's ribs. Then again, and again, and again, each time the agony built up more and more until Castiel's screams echoed through the abandoned railway tunnels.

The price of standing up for what you believed.

They made it to Sioux Falls in good time due to Dean's speeding, and Sam was glad. Driving was not fun when he felt like this. The fever he'd had ever since the demon blood started wearing out of his system was making his stomach turn and he perpetually felt like he was going to throw up. Besides that, it was impossible to find a position that was comfortable with his body aching so much. He wondered how much longer it would take the get the blood out of his system. He wished there was some sort of quick cure, so he could more easily aid in finding Cas. He didn't have time to be down for the count right now. Dean needed someone he could trust to watch his back, and Sam, quite frankly, wasn't even positive he could shoot straight at the moment.

He stretched his back and popped his neck as he stepped out of the car, unable to help a groan before he pinched his fingers against the bridge of his nose to try and ease his headache.

"Hey, you good?" Dean asked.

Sam huffed an irritated sigh. "Generally no. I'm just…surviving."

Dean's face tightened, his jaw clenched. "Sammy, you know, if you don't feel up to it…Bobby and I can handle this…"

"No," Sam insisted firmly and pushed his hip away from the Impala where he had been leaning. "I'm not gonna let you do this without me. You need all the help you can get. And Cas…he came for me when he didn't have to, I want to return the favor." Truth be told, the angel's faith in Sam, telling him that he wasn't simply evil despite the demon blood—it had helped Sam get through this. Even if he hadn't already begun to think of the angel as a friend, he would have wanted to give something in return, and if Cas was in trouble, then they had to help him, because, like Dean said before…who else would? It didn't seem like Cas really had anyone else on his side right now.

Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line, but he nodded. "Alright, well, let's get to work then. See if there's any way we can track an angel. Or any other tricks we can find to fight them."

"Anna may still find something," Sam offered.

"Yeah, but there's no guarantee of that," Dean admitted grimly. "And they're looking for her too. They might manage to take her captive as well and then we'll be back at square one."

Sam bit his lip, but had to agree Dean was right. There were few possibilities here that anything would go their way.

Bobby met them at the door, opening it for them as soon as they stepped onto the porch. "About time you boys got back," he said, then caught sight of their faces. "What happened now?"

"We got problems," Dean said blandly and led the way inside. "We need to do research on angels."

Bobby sighed. "Well, let me just put on a fresh pot of coffee."

They explained what had happened to the older hunter as Bobby made the promised coffee then they all hit the books in the study.

"I'm not sure how much of this is even going to be useful," Bobby said wryly as he dropped a pile of books onto the desk with a dusty thump. "Up until recently there was no reason to think angels even existed. Hunters never really recorded anything worth recording on them. But there may be something in the lore here."

"Even just a tracking spell that can find supernatural creatures," Sam said as he took several of the books Bobby had pulled out and went to slump down on the couch. The coffee wasn't helping his head any and it was kind of just making his stomach feel worse, so he decided to try and focus himself on the research.

"Well, I'll see what I can do," Bobby muttered. "It seems like your feathered friend has been hanging out with you idjits too much. Caught the 'always getting in trouble' bug."

Dean's face tightened and even though Sam knew Bobby had been joking, he could tell his brother was blaming himself for Cas' current situation. Obviously, if it hadn't been for them and all the help Cas had offered to them over the past few weeks, he probably wouldn't be in this position. So it was essentially their fault.

All he knew was that they had to find the angel, and fast.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Bobby's predictions proved correct, there was little to no viable information on angels that would be of any practical use to a hunter, and while they found dozens of tracking spells, there was no guarantee any of them would work on Cas.

"We do have his blade though," Dean said, taking the angel blade they had picked up from the factory out of his jacket. "At least I'm pretty sure it's his."

"Well, that's something at least," Bobby muttered. "I'll see if I can gather some ingredients so we can try one of these out."

Sam slumped against the arm of the couch, taking a moment to close his eyes and try to relive the pressure in his head that had only worsened from all the reading and the lack of sleep.

"Sammy, you should go try and get some rest," Dean said, glancing over at him.

Sam sighed and rubbed his temples. "Once we find something, I'll sleep. I just wish we had a way of knowing if we were on the right track."

That was when something clicked in his brain, and he sat up straight, unable to believe he hadn't thought of this before.

"Dean," he said, and his brother glanced over at him, expectantly.

"What?"

"I think I know who might be able to help us." Sam stood up.

"Who?"

"Chuck!" Sam replied. "Maybe he's seen something, or, or at least maybe he knows where we might be able to look for Cas. He might even know what Cas was trying to tell us!"

Dean's eyes widened. "You're right, I didn't think of that before." He was already on his feet, grabbing his bag. "We gotta get over there."

Bobby came back in then. "Where are you idjits off to now?"

"We're gonna go see if Chuck Shurley knows anything," Sam told him.

"The prophet?" Bobby asked. "You sure that's a good idea? He is linked directly with the angels."

"Yeah, but he might be our only shot," Dean said, pulling on his jacket. Sam reached for his own and followed Dean to the door.

"You boys be careful," Bobby muttered, shaking his head. "Keep me updated. I'll keep looking here."

"Thanks Bobby, we will," Sam assured him with more surety than he felt and hurried out to the Impala with Dean. It would be a long drive to Ohio.

Dean glanced over at Sam, seeing the kid finally passed out in the passenger seat, shivering slightly with his cheek pressed against the window. Dean turned up the heater a bit, and tried to keep his eyes fixed on the road. He was glad Sam was finally sleeping and for the moment didn't seem to be having any nightmares. He'd almost protested taking him at all, but if Chuck ended up having the information they needed, they would likely head directly to wherever Cas was after they were done there, and Dean knew Sam would never forgive him if he went off alone. And Dean had to admit, that, going through withdrawals or not, he'd rather have Sam at his side. He wasn't comfortable with letting the kid out of his sight right now, not after the thing with Alastair, and whatever the hell the angels were planning for them. They needed to stick together, have each other's backs, now more than ever.

When they got Cas back, he planned to extend that sentiment to the angel. For the first time, Dean realized exactly what this must mean for Cas. He had fought other angels, his brethren, and if what Anna said was true, that it was Zachariah who took him, then Cas must have full on rebelled. This wasn't just him fighting against angels like Uriel who were killing other angels, this was Cas fighting against Heaven itself. Did that mean he would fall like Anna? Either way, Dean knew that if Cas was going to be on Heaven's black list, then he would need somewhere to go, and what better place than to join the rest of the misfits who were trying to stop the end of the world?

But they had to get him away from his psycho frat bros first, and whatever the hell they were doing to him. Dean's stomach twisted at the thought, the memory of Anna's eyes when she had talked about Heaven's 're-education'. Dean had a bad feeling Cas was not gonna be in good shape when they found him.

All the more reason to do so as quickly as possible.

As the hours and the miles stretched on, he got more and more anxious, not having heard from Anna, he wondered if she was still looking or if maybe she had been captured as well. He really hoped not, one angel would be hard enough to rescue, let alone two.

He drove straight through to Ohio and Sam slept most of it. Thinking about it now, he probably should have called ahead to let Chuck know they were coming—the guy was kinda jumpy. But it was too late now.

Sam woke when they got to town.

"Where're we?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes and massaging a crick from his neck.

"Almost there," Dean replied, glancing over at him. "How you doing?"

Sam frowned, wrinkling his nose. "Headache's a little better. Still feel kinda sick."

"You need to eat something," Dean told him. "It's a twelve hour drive and you slept most of it."

Sam pulled a face. "I'll eat later. Let's just get to Chuck's place right now."

Dean refrained from sighing and took a few side streets to the neighborhood Chuck Shurley lived in.

He parked the Impala outside the old rundown house and he and Sam got out and headed for the door. He knocked then rang the doorbell and knocked again when there was no answer. He glanced at Sam.

"Think he's home?"

Sam shrugged. Dean knocked again, harder this time. "Chuck! If you're in there, open up! This is important!"

There was finally the sound of several locks being undone and the door opened a crack, revealing one eye and a sliver of a scruffy face.

"Uh, hey," Chuck said in a small voice.

"You gonna let us in?" Dean asked, already pushing through the door.

"Uh, ah!" Chuck made several protesting noises, but stumbled back from the door as Dean pushed inside, not in the mood for this crap today. Sam followed and soon they were both standing there with Chuck looking possibly even more nervous than usual, wearing his house robe and slippers.

"You guys shouldn't be here," he said, glancing between them.

"Well, too bad, because we need to know some things," Dean said. "Have you seen anything lately? Anything about Cas?"

Chuck just shook his head and hurried into the living room where he grabbed a bottle of whisky from the desk, taking a long drink. "Guys you really should leave," he said.

"Chuck, look, we're just trying to find Cas, he's been taken by the angels," Sam tried to appeal. "Also, we think he might have been trying to tell us something important. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

"Oh, god," Chuck moaned, running a hand over his face. "You can't ask me that! It's…"

Before he could get any further, the door blew open and Chuck squeaked and backed up against his desk before quickly ducking behind it. Sam and Dean spun around. Two men in suits stood there, dark expressions on their faces.

"Winchesters," one said, stepping forward. "You're coming with us."

"Chuck, what the hell?" Dean demanded.

"I told you shouldn't have come!" Chuck cried. "The angels have me monitored! I'm not allowed to say anything to anyone!"

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled, and pulled Cas' angel blade from inside his coat.

"Don't bother," one of the angels said, suddenly appearing behind Sam, a blade pressed to his throat. "It would be best for both of you if you just surrendered."

Dean glowered, but put the blade away. The other angel instantly strode forward and grabbed him, wrenching his arms behind his back. Dean turned to glare at Chuck who looked miserable.

"I'm sorry," the prophet tried.

In another second Dean felt the dizzying pull of angel travel and knew that it was too late to stop anything now.

A hard slap to the face yanked Castiel from the darkness of unconsciousness. He gasped, straightening with a rattle of chains before agony tore through his body, causing a strangled scream to rip from his abused throat.

"Now, Castiel, I can't have you trying to skip out on your punishment by passing out, now can I?" Zachariah's face appeared in front of him, swimming through Castiel's blurry vision, hazy with the pain.

"Still…here," he forced out.

"And still defiant?" Zachariah asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or have you figured out who you serve yet?"

Castiel kept his gaze for a long moment before silently slumping in his chains, unable to hold himself straight any longer. He concentrated on simply breathing through the pain before Zachariah decided what to do with him next. The holy fire burns had taken a lot out of him. Blistered patches of flesh covered his vessel, while his grace felt horribly frayed from the assault.

Zachariah growled low in his throat, obviously getting impatient. "I'm just going to have to tear you apart and put you back together, aren't I?"

But just then, the flap of wings told of angels arriving, along with a grunt of discomfort and the sound of a body being thrown to the ground.

Castiel swiftly glanced over, wondering with trepidation who this other prisoner might be who had offended Zachariah so. His heart fell when he saw who it was.

"Sam," he breathed as Zachariah turned to the new arrivals.

"Ah, Anias, I see our trap was sprung."

The angel nodded and bent to wrench Sam Winchester up by the back of his coat, causing the young man to struggle.

"Exactly as you predicted, sir. We found them skulking around the prophet's house."

Castiel hung his head in defeat. He hadn't thought that Sam and Dean might go to Chuck for information too, but he had left Dean with that cryptic message, and he should have known they would have been doing everything they could to figure out what he had wanted to tell them. He only hoped Chuck had been able to relay the message before they were caught.

Not that it would do any good now.

"And Dean? You caught him too?" Zachariah asked.

Anias nodded, a satisfied look on his face. "Yes, Noah has him interred where you wanted him."

"Very good. Things are starting to look up now," Zachariah said and strode over to Sam who was in an uncomfortable position on his knees, Anias' angel blade at his throat.

"Well, well, well, Sam Winchester," Zachariah said. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I see you're trying to kick the demon blood addiction. How's that treating you?"

"Screw you," Sam growled before his eyes flicked over the area, and finally lighted on Castiel. His eyes blew wide as he caught sight of the angel, and Castiel shook his head slightly, hoping he wouldn't protest. It would only make things worse for both of them.

Sam thankfully seemed to see his point and stayed silent. Zachariah nodded to Anias. "Just secure him for now. I'll have need of him later, right now I have other things to see to. Like continuing Castiel's lesson."

Sam was hauled to a dark alcove, and shoved into a chair. Anias quickly chained him hand and foot and forced a gag into his mouth. Sam struggled but he soon gave up, finding it all useless. Castiel hoped he would stay as quiet as possible. Zachariah would only hurt him if he tried to fight too much.

Zachariah walked back over to him now and Castiel fought a shudder; it seemed that his short reprieve had come to an end.

"Now, Castiel, don't think I've forgotten you. I'll have plenty of time to deal with Sam Winchester, and your punishment comes before everything. Perhaps it will even give Sam a little incentive to be more cooperative when the time comes. On that note, I think it's time to step it up a notch, don't you?" He bent so that his face was only inches in front of Castiel, trying to crowd him and make him intimidated. Castiel didn't think it worked very well.

"Why don't you show me your wings, Castiel," Zachariah said with no room for argument.

Castiel balked. No…Zachariah couldn't be asking him to do that. Not in his vessel—his wings were even more vulnerable in this form! And with his grace bound, any injuries meted upon his wings would likely heal poorly, if ever.

"No," he said instinctively.

Zachariah smirked slightly and bent to grip Castiel's jaw, leaning in close to speak directly into his ear. "Castiel, you would do well to manifest your wings now, or I will break Sam Winchester's ribs one by one and you can make up your mind while you listen to him scream."

Castiel's stomach lurched, glancing over at Sam who was watching the exchange between the two angels, though he didn't think Sam could hear what was being said—thankfully.

"Well, Castiel?" Zachariah said, raising a warning finger toward Sam, ready to make good on his threat.

Castiel gritted his teeth but he had no choice. He couldn't let that happen to Sam, especially while he was forced to watch, helpless to do anything. He slumped with a weary, resigned sigh, then closed his eyes and concentrated on bringing his wings onto the physical plane. It hurt; with his back so torn up and his grace frayed it was agony, but soon his onyx wings flickered into their physical form, arching above his back.

He heard Sam's murmur of shock, but couldn't look at the younger Winchester. He didn't want him to think he was doing this because of him.

"Good boy, Castiel," Zachariah muttered patronizingly and circled around behind Castiel, tsking as he took in his wings. "Look at these, they're a mess," he said, reaching out to run a hand roughly through the disheveled and singed feathers. Castiel flinched as Zachariah touched a particularly bad spot that had been touched by Hellfire, the feathers half burned away and the flesh underneath was painful scar tissue.

"I had a feeling you hadn't gotten out of Hell unscathed when you went in to drag Dean's sorry hide out—for what good that did."

Castiel couldn't help but glance toward Sam this time, and instantly regretted it, seeing the horror on the young man's face. Though Castiel wasn't sure whether it was hearing about his brother, or what Castiel had gone through or perhaps both, that caused the reaction.

To his surprise though, Zachariah stepped away from him and turned to Josiah and Malachi who had been watching the proceedings with almost eager looks. "You two continue with Castiel's punishment. I have some business to see to. I'll be back soon."

Castiel watched him go, Anias tagging along, not liking the sound of that at all, but he had other things to worry about, as he watched Malachi and Josiah peruse the table of torture implements again. His heart sank as Malachi picked up the lash and Josiah inspected the brand with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Well then, Castiel," Malachi said with an all too satisfied expression on his face. "Shall we continue?"