"Cas?" Feeling the angel in his grip go limp, Sam dropped to his knees to keep from losing his grip on the suddenly much heavier body. Shifting positions again to better support his injured friend, Sam leaned down enough to feel Cas' warm breath brush against his face. Good, so at least Cas was still alive. But still, carrying another full grown man proved difficult with only one arm.

"Hey!" Sam lightly shook Cas, glancing at his face. Even in the dim light and with blood covering a good portion, he could see Cas' skin had turned much too pale. The angel didn't respond, didn't even moan, his breath was ragged and pulse much too quick, Sam noted with a quick wrist check. Carefully he moved Cas so his head was cradled against his neck, effectively supporting the angel's weight so he wouldn't slip out of Sam's grip while he walked.

Chancing a glance at his brother, who thankfully still lay unconscious on the floor where he'd left him, Sam returned his entire focus to getting Cas out to the car. He wondered briefly if the demon inside his brother was even Dean, and if so how that could be possible. Yet as hard as accepting the realty was, Sam couldn't deny that is seemed Dean really had become a demon. He really wished Cas would wake up and confirm the obvious so he could stop clinging to false hope.

Luckily Dean had left the keys in the Impala he'd parked just outside the old warehouse he'd drug the angel to. Leaving his baby unattended and unlocked wasn't like Dean; but then again, neither was torturing people, let alone one of his best friends.

Their progress went painfully slow, and Sam couldn't shake the mounting anxiety that any moment Dean could woke up and he was woefully unprepared to deal with the consequences.

Finally making it to the Impala without incident, Sam was faced with the difficult and somewhat awkward task of getting a bleeding, unconscious, mostly naked angel into the back seat. Cas had lost a good amount of blood and it appeared the wounds weren't even slowing their flow. He really needed a hospital, but that just wasn't going to happen in time and Sam knew it. He'd have to stitch him up the best he could and hope Cas pulled through.

Sam had to climb in the backseat and drag Cas on top of himself to get him in the back seat of the car, good thing Cas was oblivious or things would have been way more weird. Sam accomplished the feat without injuring the angel any further. Pausing to catch his breath, Cas still sprawled out on his lap, Sam put his fingers against the other man's neck, relieved to feel a strong pulse, even if it was much too fast.

He leaned his head against the window, eyes scanning the empty parking lot, lit by only a couple streetlamps. Apparently Dean had come alone, one small thing to be happy for is this otherwise shitty situation.

"Hang in there, Cas." Sam muttered, wiggling out from under his weight as he gingerly felt along Cas' torso to assess the damage. There were several deep cuts that seemed to form a symbol on his stomach but Sam couldn't quite make out what it was amongst all the blood.

Assured that nothing felt life threatening on its own, Sam grabbed a spare shirt that had been thrown on the floor of the Impala and applied pressure to the worst of wounds, hoping to at least slow the red liquid draining from Cas at an alarming rate.

The angel moaned in pain, his head thrashing from side to side as he murmured something in enochian Sam couldn't understand. He gripped Cas' wrist, trying to sooth him with what little comfort he could provide.

"Shh, it's okay, I got you." Sam whispered calmly, yet inside he was a mess. Not only did he face the possibility of losing Dean but on top of it all he might lose Cas too. He wasn't sure his heart could handle losing them both again. And what if Dean woke up? He hadn't hit him that hard. Cas responded to the touch by tensing and weakly trying to fight Sam off, though he soon went limp again and Sam couldn't decide which was worse.

As much as Sam abhorred leaving Cas alone and still bleeding he knew he had to get Dean into the trunk of the Impala where the devil's trap would hold him until they made it back to the bunker. Draping a blanket over Cas to keep him warm, Sam made his way back into the dark warehouse, prepared to fight Dean again if need be, whatever it took to get his brother back where he belonged – with Sam.

By some miracle Dean hadn't moved and still lay motionless by the knocked over crates. Holy water ready just in case, Sam knelt next to Dean's still form and - gathering all his strength - heaved his brother off the floor with his good arm.

"Holy shit!" he gasped, struggling to support the dead weight. Dean weighed more than Cas by enough to make Sam doubt his abilities. "You need to lay off the pies." He grunted, managing to get Dean's left arm around his neck. Okay, he could totally do this.

Sam smiled sadly when he looked at his brother's peaceful face, all the anger had left his features and Sam could almost pretend Dean wasn't a monster bent on destroying everything he'd once held dear.

Out of pure necessity, Sam manhandled Dean towards the car with much less care then he'd used with Cas, though he highly doubted it mattered. He noted with a shiver of unease that all the cuts and scratches Dean had gotten during their earlier fight had already completely healed.

The damn Impala seemed so far away but finally Sam found himself standing in front of the car's trunk, fumbling with the keys. Out of breath and shaking slightly as the adrenaline left his body, he no choice but dump Dean ungracefully on the ground while he struggled to get the keys in that annoyingly small hole. He winced when Dean's head hit gravel hard but pushed it to the back of his racing mind.

He hadn't even been sure he'd be able to accomplish it but Sam let out a relieved sigh as he looked down at his brother, curled in an unconscious heap on the floor of the trunk, seemingly none worse for wear.

"I'm sorry, Dean." With grim determination written all over his face, Sam slammed the door closed, ignoring the painful constricting in his chest.

Retrieving the first aid kit from under the front seat, Sam set about the task of stitching up the worst of Cas' injuries, which proved pretty difficult because the angel kept squirming around and damn near whimpering with each touch, no matter how gentle. Sam cursed the darkness and the fact that he could only really use his left hand, which wasn't ideal.

"I'm so sorry…" Sam muttered, feeling guilt filling the void in his heart. It had been his fault Cas had been at that bar, he'd been the one to drag the angel into the mess even knowing he wasn't at full strength. Even the knowledge that Cas wouldn't have let Sam refuse his help did little to ease the burden on his being. Sam shouldn't have let Dean out of his sight in the bunker in the first place, then none of this would have happened.

Every time Sam started a new stitch Cas groaned, his arms jerking out to grab a hold of whatever he could get in his grip. Mostly he just clawed uselessly at the worn leather of the seat underneath them; his agonized cries jarring in the otherwise silent night air.

"Don't…don't…" Cas kept repeating in between broken sobs. Sam wondered how unconscious Cas really was, he seemed to be stuck in his own personal nightmare heightened by the physical pain.

"Stop moving, Cas." Sam pleaded, too which he unsurprisingly got no response. He pulled Cas' head into his lap in an attempt to hold him still. Thankfully, most of the bleeding had slowed to a sluggish trickle. But there was still thick red blood all over the back seats, Sam, and everything else Sam had touched in the process. He was fairly certain if Cas had been a human he'd be dead already.

At length Sam looked at his work and had to concede he'd done the best he could with the limited resources he had at his disposal. Cas still looked white as a ghost and hadn't stop gasping in raspy breaths, but at least he was still breathing right?

"Stay with me, okay?" Sam gently caressed Cas' dark hair and shoved his jacket under the angel's head before draping the blanket back over him and jumping in the driver's seat of the Impala.

The car's engine roared to life as Sam turned the keys in the ignition. The radio instantly started blaring a stupid classic rock song and Sam hit it off as he pressed his foot to the petal and peeled out of the parking lot.

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, keeping tabs on Cas' while he tried to wrap his brain around the fact that he had an unconscious angel in the back seat and a brother-turned-demon in the trunk. Some days sucked.

Dean awoke sometime during the drive back to the bunker and quickly made it his life's mission to come up with as many insults as possible. He clearly didn't take kindly to his little brother spoiling his fun. Cas, on the other hand, didn't so much as stir the entire trip, and if it hadn't been for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed Sam would have feared the worst.

"What are you going to do, Sammy? Try and cure me?" Dean's voice was unnervingly loud over the endlessly humming of tires on asphalt. "Even if you manage to do that, which I doubt you can, I still don't want anything to do with either of you." He pounded against the metal of the trunk.

Sam said nothing, refusing to answer, and only forced the car to go faster. The sooner they got this over with the better.

Dean laughed evilly. "As much as I hate you for all the years I wasted being your babysitter, mothering your stupid ass and even selling my soul so you could go dark side, I still hate Cas more, and once I get free I'm going to kill him slowly and make you watch. Then I'll take care of you."

Sam frowned, gritting his teeth as a scowl formed on his face. Dean didn't mean any of it, once he'd been cured he'd stop acting crazy… hopefully.

This went on for a while but finally Dean seemed to grow tired of talking without getting a response and after a few moments of silence Sam found himself releasing air he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

Not nearly soon enough the bunker appeared seemingly out of nowhere ahead of them and Sam decided to park the Impala inside the garage because he'd have to leave Dean in the trunk until he'd had a chance to tend to Cas better and fabricate a reasonable plan of attack.

"This little trap won't hold me forever, ya know."

"I'm going to fix this, Dean." Sam narrowed his eyes in determination but felt a flicker of doubt hearing the blatant assurance in Dean's voice.

"That's adorable, Sammy. When have you ever managed to do anything but make matters worse?"

Sam ignored the jab and instead opened the back door to check on Cas. The angel hadn't moved and Sam could see red stains in the blanket where blood had soaked through.

Now came the next seemingly impossible task of getting Cas down the long flight of stairs leading to the bunker's main floor. Sam thought he'd spotted a stretcher in the supply room a few months back when they'd been going through the all Men of Letters boxes. It would be a bumpy ride down but definitely beat trying to carry Cas again.

It took Sam close to half an hour to get Cas to one of the spare bedrooms in the bunker and actually on the bed. However he managed it, and without doing too much damage in the process.

Out of breath and panting hard, Sam took a moment to collect his thoughts as he stared numbly at the angel's heaving chest. Blood oozed sluggishly from a few of the cuts that were too small to stitch and when he placed his finger against Cas' neck Sam found the pulse weak.

Cursing, Sam hauled himself to his feet and gathered some clean towels and a bowl of warm water. He shoved the items on the nightstand to the floor and set about the task of washing the blood and dirt from Cas' body. This time he didn't thrash to get away from the touch, didn't even whimper and that worried Sam.

"Don't give up on me, Cas." Sam pleaded. He'd grown quite fond of the angel over the years and he was like a brother to him. And, more selfishly, Sam needed the support. Loosing Dean hadn't gotten any easier, no matter how many times he went through it, and having Cas by his side made it a little more bearable.

Sam carefully wrapped bandages around Cas' torso, tight enough to apply pressure but not so tight that he wouldn't be able to breathe. He covered the angel with the sheets on the bed and headed for the door. With a heavy heart he paused for a moment, glancing back, Sam rubbed a hand down his face.

"I'll take care of you." He promised the empty air, silent except for Cas' labored breathing. "I'll take care of both of you."

Sam grabbed a crowbar on his way back up the stairs, jaw set firmly in grim determination. He had to do this, couldn't take the chance… life sucked so bad.

Silence filled the garage air and Sam gripped the metal tightly in his quivering hands. Wishing he was anywhere but here, Sam opened the trunk of the Impala; and wacked Dean over the head as hard as he could.

Dean slumped limply to the floor of the trunk with a surprised grunt. Sam released a shaky breath as he let the crowbar slip guiltily from his hand. He really wanted to hug the shit out of his brother and forget about all this, he still could barely wrap his head around the fact that his brother had turned into a demon.

"What happened to you and me against the world?" Sam asked sadly, he brushed the back of his hand over Dean's warm cheek. He told himself Dean would be fine, if only he could convince himself that he'd be fine.

Sam hauled Dean down the stairs the same way he'd done with Cas. But he didn't take him to his room. Sam took Dean to their dungeon and tied him securely to the chair, just like they'd done with Crowley not but a few months back. Dean's head lolled to the side and Sam could see blood oozing down the right side of his face, making the younger Winchester feel even more upset, but he pushed his emotions down deep, like he always did.

Swallowing hard, Sam stepped back and splashed holy water in Dean's face.

With an angry growl, Dean's eyes snapped open, and they were black, horrible, soulless demon black. He glared at Sam with contempt, his narrowed eyes watching as Sam walked over to the metal table with a bunch of torture tools and needles laid out on it.

"Whatcha gonna do, Sammy?" he taunted. "Shoot me up with a bunch of your blood and make me all better?"

"Dean." Sam whispered softly, hoping to calm his brother down. "I'm going to fix you."

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. "I don't need fixing!" he growled. "Stay the hell away from me."

"What about our family?" Sam asked, rolling the sleeve to his shirt up and draining out a syringe full of blood. He hoped his blood still worked, he couldn't risk leaving Cas alone for long enough to go get more. "You and me, hunting things, saving people? That's all you used to care about."

"Wow, old me sounds boring." Dean jerked his arms against the restraints, rolling his head back in a cruel laugh. "You better hope I don't get loose before your little trick works."

Sighing, Sam walked over and injected Dean's arm with the blood, to which the older Winchester only smirked, making Sam shiver with unease.

"You don't look too good, you sure you can handle doing this?"

Sam pursed his lips, meeting Dean's menacing gaze. "Whatever it takes to get you back."

The sound of Dean mimicking his words in an overly whiny voice followed his retreating back as Sam headed towards the spare bedroom to check on Cas. The angel still breathed, still had a pulse, but little else positive could be said about his condition. Sam wondered if he might not get better because he was already dying? Hadn't he said something about running out of borrowed grace?

He returned to the basement every hour and injected Dean with more blood, but after the sixth time he started to worry. Had he forgotten something? Shouldn't there be a noticeable difference now? Because Dean seemed every bit as demon as before, and he was getting really tired of the insults…


"Cas?" a hesitant voice broke through the fog of his brain.

Castiel tried to turn his head away from the annoying sound, wishing he hadn't as sudden pain throbbed behind his closed eyes. Why was it so bright in here? Even shut it seemed like the sun was shining straight into his eyes like a laser. He couldn't remember what had happened or where he was. Panic filled him for a moment and he clutched at the blankets covering him… blankets? He didn't remember going to bed. Sleeping had never been a good idea and wouldn't start being one now. Sleep made one vulnerable to the monsters that filled the world.

"Cas!" this time with more urgency.

This person really needed to shut up before he killed them! Castiel waved his hand weakly in the air surrounding him, willing all disturbances to leave him be in peace and darkness.

"Cas, it's not working." He finally recognized Sam's voice and relaxed a bit, he must be at the bunker, with Sam… and Dean. He shuddered, mental images of Dean torturing him entering his mind. And those horrible black, soulless eyes staring at him with evil intent. His heart felt heavy, something he'd felt a few times during his time as a human – emotional pain. And did he ever feel like he couldn't breathe! Wait… not working?

"What's… not working?" Castiel finally managed to croak, cringing at the roughness of his own voice. He swallowed, trying to ease the raspy sound coming from his throat but the action hurt terribly and he quickly decided against doing it again.

He felt a hand on his arm and couldn't control the involuntary jerk of his muscles, even though he knew the hand belonged to Sam and wasn't a threat.

"Are you awake?" Sam questioned, uncertainty dripping off every word.

"Yes." Castiel grumbled thickly, his tongue so dry he could barely speak. I am now anyway. He tried opening his eyes the tiniest amount and immediately squeezed them shut again as blinding light burned against his dry eyes. Why did the whole room literally seem to be made of horribly bright, white light? "Turn off… light."

He heard a shuffling sound and then the unbearable light disappeared, making him sigh in relief, thinking maybe he could try and open his eyes once more. This time his gaze was met with blessed darkness, expect for a very faint light streaming in from a bulb down the hall through the open door of the small, empty room – well, empty save for the bed he lay in and a chair Sam had pulled up to sit next to him. Luckily he still had great night vision and had no trouble seeing all he needed to.

"Is that better?" Sam returned and sunk heavily into the chair with a weary sigh. His face look worn and there were dark shadows under his hazel eyes. The wrinkled shirt hanging from his slumping shoulders appeared to be at least couple days old and his hair was a neglected mess.

"How, how long has it been?" Castiel asked worriedly, blinking his sore eyes in an attempt to get a better look at the younger Winchester. "Have you slept?"

"Two days." Sam replied, shaking his head slightly.

"Two days?" Castiel echoed, trying to sit up, but Sam's firm hand on his shoulder halted the movement.

"You need to take it easy." Sam averted his gaze, looking slightly uncomfortable. "You've been through a lot."

Letting his head fall back against the pillows, Castiel groaned, slowly becoming aware that he hurt almost everywhere. He knew Sam wasn't just talking about the physical applications of what had happened in the warehouse but was thankful when he didn't try to press the matter. Castiel needed more time before he'd want to discuss that with anyone, if he ever did.

"I feel terrible..." Castiel admitted, smiling slightly to try and make light of the matter but he ended up coughing so hard Sam gripped his hand with an alarmed look on his face.

"Here." Sam produced a cup filled with water once Castiel managed to catch his breath. "Drink this."

"Thank you." Castiel gratefully took the offered glass, wincing as the movement pulled the healing lacerations on his stomach and chest. He reached down with his free hand to touch the source of the discomfort but his fingers were met with rough fabric. A quick glance told him his entire middle had been wrapped with tight bandages. That explained the suffocating pressure in his chest.

Sam watched him intently, as if trying to assess his current state.

"I'm okay, Sam." Castiel handed the glass back to the younger Winchester, fearing if he tried to set in on the nightstand next to him his shaking hands would drop it.

"Yeah, okay." Sam blushed, again averting his gaze. "It's just, I thought I'd lost you there for a while, and Dean…" he trailed off, giving Castiel what could only be a pleading look. "It's not working, Cas." Sam's voice broke on the last bit and the angel thought he caught a glimpse of a tear trickling down the hunter's cheek.

Extending a hand to rest on Sam's shoulder, wishing he could offer more comfort, Castiel prompted. "What's not working, Sam?"

When Sam looked up, Castiel could plainly see he had tears in his eyes. "The ritual, for curing a demon, it's not working. I went through the whole thing, just like I did with Crowley, I followed it exactly, and it didn't work. Dean's still a demon."

"Are you sure?" Castiel asked in disbelief, sucking in a breath as he let the news settle. How could the ritual not have worked on Dean if it had affected the very King of Hell himself?

"Is Dean… is that really Dean?" Sam asked, a trace of hope making its way into his tone. Castiel nodded, this time it was he who looked away, not wanting to see the pain in Sam's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sam." He whispered sincerely. He couldn't help feeling guilty; it was his fault Metatron had gone all terminator.

"How?" Sam stood up and paced the room. "How did he just become a demon in a few weeks? Doesn't it normally take a lot longer?"

"Generally, yes." Castiel agreed, feeling his eyelids drooping already with fatigue, damn this ridiculous need to sleep!

"Well, what do I do?" Sam stopped his pacing long enough to run both hands through his shaggy hair. "Damn it, Cas! What do I do?"

"I don't know." Castiel admitted. "But we'll figure something out." He added quickly, seeing Sam's panic rise.

"I… I can't lose him again." Sam wiped the liquid off his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Castiel held his hand out and Sam looked at him in confusion. "Help me up." The angel urged. "Take me to Dean and we'll figure this out."

"You sure? I mean, you need…" Sam gestured vaguely at Castiel, looking like he didn't much like the idea. Well tough! "…clothes at least."

Really? How could Sam be concerned with clothes at a time like this? Humans! Castiel shrugged, figuring it would be better for all involved to just go along with it. "Well, get me some clothes then."

Nodding, Sam shuffled off, soon returning with what looked like some of Dean's spare clothes. That blue and white flannel definitely looked like Dean's and the jeans were too short to be Sam's.

"Here." Sam dropped the items on the bed and spun in his heels while muttering a quick. "I'll just be out in the hall if you… when you're done call me."

Clothes were still something Castiel find annoying to deal with. How did people have time to do anything with the need to eat, change clothes and sleep constantly?

As soon as Sam left Castiel struggled to a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the pain. The room spun around him and he had to close his eyes to fight back the urge to puke. He suddenly became grateful that Sam wasn't here, he didn't want the younger Winchester to know just how hurt and weak he still was. Putting clothes on would be harder than he'd previously thought and what had been a mere annoyance might turn out to be a real trial.

With a sad sigh, Castiel twitched his shoulders, his wing was still bothering him, but he lacked the grace to healed it and felt too self-conscious to allow Sam to care for him. Any pride he'd once possessed had long since been stripped from his being, but his fear still clung fast, and fear always prevented people from doing what needed to be done.

I'll be fine, it's not that bad. He told himself firmly, turning his attention to the task at hand.

By being super careful and biting his bottom lip so hard he almost broke the skin, Castiel managed to dress himself without making noise. But by the time he finally called Sam back in he was shaking and covered in sweat.

"You don't have to do this." Sam did nothing to hide his concern as he helped Castiel stand up. "I mean, we can wait until you feel better."

"No." the angel leaned heavily on Sam but his voice remained steady, concealing his inner turmoil. "We have to save Dean."