Bobby hadn't cooled down at all by the time they arrived at his place. If anything, he was even more pissed off than he'd been when he called. He met them at the front door with a scowl and furious demand of "What the hell took you so long!"

"Dean broke every speed limit there was, Bobby…" Sam tried to explain, only to get cut off by Bobby furiously snapping "Not fast enough!"

"Bobby, man, take it easy." Dean said.

Bobby transferred his scowl from Sam to Dean. "Don't you tell me to take it easy, boy. You aint the one that's been trapped here listening to a kid hollering from your basement!" When they winced, he snorted at them. "Yeah. Kid woke up about a few hours after Feathers left. An let me tell you, he aint happy."

Jesus. Sam could only imagine. He knew the terrifying sensation of waking up somewhere that you don't know, unable to get free. How much worse was it to be brought there by people who you had started to think that maybe you could trust? Spencer didn't even have the benefit of really knowing them and knowing that they had his best interests at heart here. All he would know was that he'd trusted them and they'd betrayed him. What made it worse was knowing that they couldn't really let him out yet, either. Sam and Dean had talked about it on the way here—argued, shouting at the top of their lungs sometimes—and they'd come to the conclusion that Castiel was right about the fact that they couldn't have anything that drew the attention of angels or anything else. Until they figured out a way to help Spencer control his powers, he was going to have to stay where he and everyone else were safe. Something told Sam that Bobby wasn't going to be any happier about it than he was.

He was right.

They sat in Bobby's living room as Dean told him that he was basically going to be playing jailhouse for just a little bit longer. Sam hadn't thought it was possible for Bobby to look any more pissed off than he already had, but he was proven wrong. "You want to keep him in there?" Bobby demanded.

"Just for a little while!" Dean said quickly. "Just until we can figure out how to train up his powers or keep them under control somehow."

"I'm not keeping some kid locked up just because he had the misfortune of having an angel daddy!"

"It is in the best interests of all, the nephilim included." Another voice chimed in. No one had heard Castiel's arrival but they all turned to look at him now. He didn't seem the least bit disturbed by the open temper in the room. Maybe he'd just gotten used to things being that way here. Sam didn't let himself think about how depressing that thought was.

Now that Castiel was in the room, Bobby was free to turn his ire on him. "I fail to see how trickin' a kid and locking him in my panic room is in his best interests!"

"Would you rather Lucifer tracked his movements and came to retrieve him for his own means?" Castiel asked.

"Of course not, Cas." Dean said quickly.

"Then this is the route we must take. I'm currently looking into a way to safely bind his powers, even temporarily. Might I suggest you turn your research towards the same?"

There were times where Sam forgot just how 'other' Castiel was. Logically, he knew their friend was an angel. That wasn't something that a person forgot. And he'd seen as Castiel slowly tried to figure out humanity. But the fact that he wasn't actually human came through so much clearer in moments like this. To Castiel, this was a simple situation with a simple solution. He didn't stop to think about it from a human perspective. He didn't stop to think how they were locking a man away, keeping him prisoner, and how that might make Spencer feel. He didn't think about how his earlier actions had destroyed whatever trust they had building, or how impossible that trust might be to earn back.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. This whole situation was a mess. I guess it's time I try and help clean it up a little. "I'll go down and talk to him."

He was surprised when Dean immediately shook his head. "No, I will." He saw the look Sam was giving him and his lips quirked up into a mirthless smile. "Kid's gonna be plenty pissed off. Let him take it out on me now. Then later you can go in and do that whole touchy-feely girly crap you do that always gets people to talk to you."

Huh. Sam's eyebrows went up in a clear look of surprise. "Dean, that's almost…nice." He made sure to say it with enough skepticism to imply just how strange he found it. He got the desired result. Dean scowled at him and told him to "Shut up" before he turned and took off towards the panic room.

Spencer had never felt so utterly afraid and absolutely furious at the same time.

He'd woken up hours ago alone inside of this cold prison and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of anyone since then. None of his shouts had brought anyone down to him. He was alone, trapped inside of this insane room that was covered in so many protective sigils and warding sigils, and there was no way out. No windows to crawl out of, and definitely no way to open the huge, thick door. All he had were a few bookshelves, a disgusting looking cot in the middle of the room, and a dusty desk. Nothing that could help him escape. He was trapped here with no way out.

But worse than all of that, worse than being trapped here or being alone…

His light was gone.

Never once in all of Spencer's years had the light inside of him ever been gone. It'd always been a part of him. Sometimes it felt like more of a part of him than anything else. He'd felt it as this living ball of light that sat in his chest and flowed through his veins. Since he'd died in Georgia—if he could believe anything the Winchesters and their angel had said, that would've been the catalyst removing the 'binding' over his light, or grace as they'd called it—his light seemed to have grown. It didn't just sit in his chest anymore. It filled him and brought with it all these powers that had terrified Spencer. Sure, he'd always known that it was the source of his powers, that his telekinesis stemmed from that light, but it was so much more than that. It was him. Spencer had no idea how to explain it better than that. All the languages he knew, all the words he possessed, and he could never think of a better way to describe that light than as simply him. The essence of himself. And now it was gone.

It felt like someone had scraped out his soul with a jagged knife and left him with this raw emptiness where everything had used to be. Spencer would take torture over this feeling. He'd take anything if it meant he could have that part of himself back. It hurt! It hurt so much more than anything he'd ever known.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to bang on that door and demand they come down here and get him the hell out of here. He wanted free! But no one came, and Spencer knew he couldn't afford the luxury of a freak out. Not now. Not when he had no idea what they wanted with him.

How much of what they'd said had been truth and how much was lies? The apocalypse—that, at least, he had been able to sense was true. He'd felt their emotions when they spoke about it. That was true. And it made sense that they wouldn't lie about telling him he was a nephilim. There was no point in lying about that. It would serve no purpose to talk about how powerful he was if he wasn't really. So, those were truth. But they'd lied about wanting to help him. They'd lied about not hurting him.

Did they…did they think he was a threat? Spencer knew the history supernatural things had with the Winchesters. If one was supernatural and crossed their paths, they didn't tend to survive. Were they, going to kill him? But why keep him alive? For information. It was the only thing that made sense. Not that he knew any information. There was no other reason he could think of that they'd keep him alive instead of killing him.

Unless, maybe they planned on simply holding him. Keeping him prisoner so that he couldn't go to Lucifer. Maybe they'd found some middle ground between the Winchesters wanting to trust him and their angel wanting to kill him. This could be some sort of strange compromise between them. Simply keep Spencer locked up in this iron prison. Had they—oh, God, had they done something to yank away his light? Was it…gone? Really, truly gone?

It took almost a half an hour for Spencer to get his breathing back under control and stop the panic attack that tried to take over.

He was only barely in control again when he heard noise from upstairs. Not a lot, just enough to tell him that there were people up there. He didn't shout to them, though. What would be the point?

Then he heard the sound of footsteps and they sounded like they were getting closer. Spencer straightened up from the wall and stared at the door and listened carefully. Yes, they were. They were coming closer. Someone was finally coming. Very deliberately he straightened out his body and locked down everything he could.

They would get no trust from him. He'd played nice and this was what it'd earned him. Now, he wasn't going to play nice and friendly anymore. Spencer drew in a shaky breath and let it back out slowly as he watched the door to his prison. He wasn't going to lay here and cower before them. He'd done that far too much in life. This time, he wouldn't let them see how afraid he was. He wouldn't let them see how broken he felt with this gaping emptiness inside of him where his light had used to be. Let them think it's still there, a voice in his head told him, sounding suspiciously like Derek. If they don't know that one of their wards has taken your light, don't clue them in. Better to let them think you're as powerful as they were preaching about earlier. It might make them hesitant on trying anything. Just keep calm and watch. Your opportunity to escape will come.

He wasn't all that surprised when the door finally opened and it was Dean who came in. Spencer stayed on the far side of the room and didn't bother trying to rush out of here. Just because the door was open didn't mean that he could escape. Dean would stop him. Spencer knew he didn't stand a chance against the hunter in physical skills. He wasn't Derek; he couldn't hide until the door opened and ambush him to get free. Not to mention there was no telling who they had upstairs.

Dean took one look at him and Spencer could see the slight wince. It was his first clue how bad he must look. He hadn't really thought about it. "Hey." Dean said lowly. He tried for a grin and failed miserably at it. "So I, uh, I imagine you're pretty pissed off right now."

Understatement, Spencer thought. He kept his mouth shut, though.

"Listen, I know this looks bad, really I do, and I get that you're pissed. I don't blame you."

Spencer had never been what one would call snarky. His mouth could run away with him, yes, but he'd been bullied enough in childhood to learn how to keep his mouth shut in certain situations. It hadn't been until the Dilaudid, until the come downs and the withdrawal, that he'd discovered that mouthier side of himself once more. That side showed itself now. Before he could stop himself, he dryly said "I'm so glad to know I have your approval."

Again, just a small flinch, only barely noticeable around Dean's eyes. "Believe it or not, we're trying to help you here. All that stuff we told you back there, it's all true. We didn't lie to you. But you gotta realize, until we figure out a way to help make sure you've got your powers under control, we gotta make sure you're hidden. This room's the best place for that. Bobby has this room warded better than anything I've ever seen."

"Forgive me if I'm not impressed." Spencer said. Did Dean think he was going to believe him now? That he was going to buy this story? "So, that's your plan? You're going to leave me locked in this room until such time that your angel finds a way to control me?"

"A way to help you find control." Dean corrected.

A low scoff slid free. Like he was going to believe that. These guys wanted to control him just as much as they claimed Lucifer would.

"We're not the bad guys here, doc." Dean said, his voice just a bit softer than before. It was strange to hear after his earlier gruffness. "We're trying to help."

"Can I leave this room?" Spencer asked.

"No."

Spencer shook his head and turned away. "Then don't delude yourself into thinking I'm anything other than a prisoner here."

He heard a soft sigh behind him and then Dean said "I'm sorry, kid."

Let him be sorry. It didn't change things. It didn't get Spencer free of here.

He didn't acknowledge Dean's words at all. Instead, he stared at the wall and waited silently until he heard the sounds of the older Winchester leaving. The door shut behind him with a clang that made Spencer flinch. Then, the sound of the lock clicking into place. Spencer's eyes closed on a wave of grief. He was trapped here. Trapped, with no way out, by people who were trying to claim they were only doing what was 'best'.

There was no one around to see the single tear that slipped free.

The next time someone came to see him was hours later. Spencer looked up from where he sat at the desk, a book in hand, and watched as Sam came in bearing a tray of food. For an hour now the young genius had been pretending to read the book he held. Mostly, he'd sat here at the desk with his head propped up on one hand and his fingers rubbing lightly at his temple to try and take away the weird ache in his head. It was a step up from what he really wanted to do, which was curl up on that bed and rub at the even bigger ache in his chest where that empty feeling still sat.

Sam smiled at him as he came in, making him look kind of like this big, sheepish puppy. It was probably a look that had endeared him to a lot of people. Spencer watched him dispassionately as the hunter brought the tray of food over to the desk he sat at. "Hey. I brought you a little something to eat. I figured you might be getting hungry."

Out of anyone that could've come down, Sam was probably his best bet on getting information. Spencer knew there was a sharp mind in there, he'd seen it in their interactions, but he'd also seen and felt the soft heart that lived inside him. Then again, maybe that had been a trick, just like everything else. He was here, wasn't he? Spencer folded the book in his lap and looked up at Sam, refusing to cower even if the man's towering presence beside him had him wanting to back away. "Has your angel found a way to leash me, yet?" The words were brittle and bitter and only barely covered up Spencer's fear.

Unlike his brother, who hid his discomfort, Sam's wince was right out there for Spencer to see. "We don't want to leash you, Dr. Reid." Sighing out a breath, the younger Winchester took a few steps back and then sank down to sit on the edge of the cot. "We really are trying to help, even if it doesn't seem like it. Castiel…he went about it the wrong way. He doesn't think about things quite like humans do. To him, you needed to be somewhere that you couldn't be sensed, somewhere that we'd all be safe, and he wasn't sure you'd agree so it was just logical to bring you right here. He doesn't think about how that feels for a person. He's better than he used to be, but he's still learning about humanity. He's too used to thinking like a soldier."

Spencer picked absently at the burger in front of him. He didn't want to listen to the earnest tone in Sam's voice. He didn't want to see the way he looked at him, so open and honest and pleading. They had brought him here. They'd trapped him here. "He may have brought me here, but you're the ones keeping me here."

"Just until we can find a way to help get your powers under control so you can be safe."

"Safe from what?" Spencer asked, finally looking up. Part of his mind was telling him how stupid it was to antagonize his kidnappers and how he needed to keep his calm and treat this like any other case. The other part of him, the part that ached and throbbed and screamed with every breath, that part just didn't care. "Safe from being kidnapped by someone who wants to find a way to control my supposed immense power and use it to win some war?" He wasn't just talking about Lucifer here and the both of them knew it.

This time Sam's wince was a little stronger. "That's not what we're trying to do here, Dr. Reid."

"Isn't it?" Spencer raised an eyebrow and dared him to contradict. When he didn't, Spencer nodded, a silent 'that's what I thought', and then he turned his attention back to his food. Picking the burger up and holding it in the napkin, he gathered up the tray and held it out to Sam. "Here. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble for leaving me with something that might be misconstrued as a weapon of some sort."

It was a clear dismissal. Sam took the tray and gave him one last, sad look before he left him there.

The door locking seemed to echo louder than before.

Sleep finally overcame Spencer whether he liked it or not. He woke up with his head still resting on his arms on the desk and his body feeling strangely heavy and hollow. There was a thick, dry taste in his mouth and a throbbing ache in his head that only grew worse when he tried to move. His eyelids felt like they'd been glued together. What was going on here?

Spencer tried to push himself up to his feet. But he barely made it halfway up before dizziness assaulted him and he had to slap his palms down on the desktop to keep himself from falling back down. The gaping emptiness inside of him seemed to taunt him as he stood there and tried to gather his bearings. What the hell was wrong with him? Something….something wasn't right here. Something was very, very wrong. He felt sore and empty, his head was throbbing and yet it also felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton. It made it hard to think, like dragging your feet through molasses. Or quicksand. Every thought he had just kept getting sucked back under. The last time he'd felt this bad, he'd…

No. Horror filled Spencer. It pushed back some of the fog and cleared his head a little. Just enough for him to turn his stare to the empty napkin and the paper cup that were the only remnants of his earlier meal. No, they couldn't have. Had they? He didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to believe how completely and utterly stupid he was and just how much trouble he was really in. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The only time he'd ever felt like this, had been when he was drugged.

This wasn't like the Dilaudid. At least, not like it'd been at the end there, when he'd been doing it on his own. This was like the cabin. Only, without the hallucinations. This was what he'd felt like when he would wake up after Tobias had given him an injection and it was finally starting to fade a little. The feeling of cotton in his head, the dry mouth, the weird shakes and dizziness, the inability to think properly. God, they were drugging him? Bad enough that they were holding him in a room he couldn't escape from. Now they were drugging him!

Shaking legs barely carried Spencer over to the gross looking cot. As much as he didn't want to lay on it, not having any idea who'd been there before, he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to keep his body upright.

He collapsed down onto the cot and immediately curled himself into a ball. What was he going to do?

His team would look for him eventually, when he didn't return from his vacation. But how were they going to find him? They wouldn't know where to look. There was no telling how far the angel had taken them away from Vegas. And with all the supernatural wards and an actual angel on their side, the Winchesters would be able to keep him well hidden.

No one was coming for him. He was alone here, trapped in this room, empty and drugged. Spencer had never been the type to give up before—he'd always fought, always pushed on until he could find a way to get out of a situation—but that emptiness inside of him felt like a giant black hole, sucking him down and under, and this drugged feeling only made it all worse.

He was trapped here. And he was afraid there was going to be no way out.

When someone came by later with another tray of food, Spencer pretended to be asleep. He wasn't going to give them the chance to drug him again.