Castiel feels as though he is floating. The world around him has stopped mattering entirely. He feels weighed down and sore, unable to move from the force that holds him. He doesn't know where he is anymore but he keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to find out.
Outside of himself, the only thing he is aware of is a muted tapping noise from somewhere to his right. The sound goes back and forth; it gets louder, then seems to fade out, only to repeat the process. It almost sounds like someone walking. Whatever the source of the sound, it is hypnotizing; keeping him in place as the information he knows runs through his head.
Quieter.
Dean, the same hunter whose safety had been Castiel's top priority for almost thirty years, had jumped off a bridge. He had tried to take his own life and had the angel not interfered, Dean would be dead.
Louder.
Castiel was not supposed to save Dean from himself. When someone tries to commit suicide, it is considered throwing away God's gift to them. It will result in them being kept from entering the kingdom of heaven for all of eternity.
Quieter.
Surely Castiel could not let that happen. Not after everything that he has done for the hunter. He wanted Dean to live a long happy life, not to feel as though suicide was the only option for him.
Louder.
Castiel fell from heaven. He was cast down for saving someone who did not want to be saved. He interfered in a way that he should not have and now he will pay the ultimate price.
Quieter.
What is more, Dean could see him now. The hunter pointed a gun at him. Did he think that Castiel was going to hurt him? Does Dean think that the angel is one of those monsters that he hunts? How is Castiel supposed to deal with that? Perhaps he doesn't need to deal with it. For now, he can just drift back into sleep.
When Castiel finally regains consciousness, the dull pain throughout his body is what slowly brings his eyes to finally open. The angel finds himself laying on an uncomfortable cot, staring upwards. High above him is a large, slow turning extractor fan with an iron devil's trap worked into the grill of it. Castiel can see the sky beyond the fan; he thinks that it must be early morning. Dawn is approaching; the sky is not bright enough to light the room fully, but bright enough to cast dull light around the room to see. He watches the blades of the fan move around and around in their slow circles until finally, his attention is drawn to the walls of the room. He finds that the room is circular, littered with newly drawn warding sigils. Castiel is familiar with almost all of them, though there seem to be no precautions taken to trap or ward off angels. Castiel knows that Dean does not believe in angels, so the fact that he would not ward against them doesn't surprise him.
Minutes pass, and eventually Castiel gathers enough strength to lift his arm up off of the cot that he lays on. As the angel raises his hand, he feels the sharp cold sting of metal on his wrist, keeping his hand in place. His other hand, however, is free to move, though it does him little good with the pain that controls his right half. He turns his head toward the source of the pain in his wrist, only to discover that his left hand has been fastened to the side of the bed with a pair of manacles. With a closer look, he notices that the pair of handcuffs are pure iron, with devil's traps and various other monster proofing symbols engraved into the metal. The sigils would do little to bind Castiel if he was in his true form, but the iron in the handcuffs would be capable of protecting against many different creatures.
The angel was impressed that Dean had taken such in-depth precautions to guarantee his ensnarement. A part of him is happy that the hunter has done this. He wouldn't want for him to be anything but careful. Looking around the room he can't help but feel proud of Dean. The hunter has always been so smart. He's always been so careful. So Castiel can't be mad at him. He can't bring himself to resent him. Even with the situation he is in now, the fallen angel still considers Dean to be the most precious thing to him.
"You're awake?" the voice brings him out of his thoughts, causing him to turn his head to look in that direction.
The hunter sits in a wooden chair about fifteen feet away. His back is against the wall and across his lap is the same shot gun from the previous night for protection, should he come to need it. His eyes are darkened with bags underneath them, a sign that the man had not been sleeping, likely watching intently over the fallen angel so he would know when he woke up.
Castiel's voice comes out croaked and dry as he rasps out, "Dean?" After not getting a response from the stone faced man, Castiel continues, "Dean, how long was I unconscious? What happened?" Each word is a struggle to make its way up his throat and out of his mouth. He didn't believe that his throat and mouth could be so dry, as if there is no moisture in them at all.
The blonde stands up, walks over to a desk not far away in the shadowy part of the room and almost silently sets his shotgun down on it. When he doesn't audibly respond to Castiel, the angel almost believes that Dean did not hear him due to his voice. But soon the human is turning his head to look at Castiel. "Long enough." His eyes only flit to the wounded angel for a moment before they zone back in on something on the surface of the desk.
"Don't pass out again. I need you awake for this." The hunter talks quietly as he picks something long and silver up from the desk, holding it up to examine it in the shadows. He looks back over to his captive, tilting his head just the slightest bit. "You're going to tell me everything." His green eyes finally give off that familiar hint of a glimmer in the morning light as his eyes lock onto Castiel's blue ones. His mouth is kept in an indecipherable straight line when he turns to face the angel slowly.
Then he slowly walks toward Castiel with the knife.
Hey guys. Big thanks to Holly (my beta) and everyone that has commented so far. PLEASE continue to leave reviews! It helps to know what you guys think.