Two days had gone by since the Castiel had brought their newest 'guest' to Bobby's place. Two days in which Sam had spent almost the entire time worrying. After his first talk with Spencer, the young doctor had shut down on them almost completely. He didn't talk to them, didn't eat, didn't do anything except sleep. At least, not while they were in the room. Sometimes things were moved around in a way that suggested that he'd done things while they were gone. Castiel had reported that he'd taken care of necessary bathroom items for Spencer as well, which had made Sam wince a little.

It was getting to the point that Sam was ready to say damn the consequences and just let him out. He hadn't signed on to torture anyone and that was exactly what they were doing. They could fancy it up under countless other words but it all boiled down to the fact that they were torturing him. They'd taken someone who could've been a great ally and they'd tricked him, locked him up, and kept him locked away for days. Any chance they'd had of actually gaining his help were pretty much lost now. Sam knew Spencer saw them on the same level as any other bad guy. Not that he could blame him.

Sam wasn't the only one who was feeling this way. When Sam once more brought up a tray that Spencer had refused to eat, Bobby looked up from where he had his chair parked by the bookshelf and he gave a sigh when he saw that the tray was still full. "We gotta do something before that kid wastes away." Bobby said.

Looking up from the laptop, Dean eyed the tray and there was a brief flash of worry in his eyes that was almost immediately smothered. "He'll have to give in and eat at some point. He's not gonna starve himself."

"When'd you turn so heartless, boy?" Bobby demanded, rolling forward so he could better see and scowl at Dean. "That aint no monster we got down there. That's a boy. A real, part human boy! An we've got him locked up like some demon!"

"What do you want us to do, Bobby? Let him out and have his powers go crazy and bring all the angels down on us? Or maybe let him accidentally do something that's not as nice as the stuff he was doing before?" Slapping the laptop lid down, and ignoring Sam's protesting glare at the move, he glared right back at their surrogate father. "You heard Cas! All the things that happened around the kid before, that was when he was happy. What do you think's gonna happen if we let him out now while he's upset?"

"So you just wanna hold him hostage until, what? Your angel finds a way to collar that kid? Cause let me tell you, I've heard him talk and he sure as hell don't sound like he's trying to help him none. He sounds more like he's trying to find a way to leash up his own personal attack dog. One he's convinced is gonna have to be put down once he's done using him."

It was blunt and harsh, yet no less true. Castiel had a disgust for Spencer's species that seemed to even rival the views the angels held on Sam. He'd thought that the angels had been disgusted by him, calling him an abomination. Their views on nephilim seemed to be so much worse.

Sam set the tray down on the counter and then turned around to lean back against the counter's edge. He brought a hand up and ran it through his hair. This whole situation had been screwed right from the start. Right from the instant that Castiel had touched the kid's head and knocked him out. Whatever they did now was only going to be damage control. But something had to be done. Something had to change. "Bobby's right, Dean. We can't keep doing this."

There was a brief moment where he thought his brother was going to protest. Then, surprisingly, the older Winchester deflated. "I know. But what the hell else are we gonna do?"

"Put up some new wards." Bobby said immediately. "We add some more wards around the property and hope they hold. The kid'll still be stuck in the house but that's a damn sight better'n the panic room."

"And if he doesn't wanna stay?" Dean asked.

No one had an answer to that.

After a long moment of quiet, Bobby rolled back towards the bookcase. "I'll look up the wards we need. Hopefully, we can get 'em up before breakfast tomorrow. Kid might eat if it was actually up at a table."

For Spencer the days seemed to drag on, one bleeding into the next in a way that would've been terrifying if he didn't feel so broken and empty on the inside. If he'd been in a better frame of mind, he would've been terrified by how quickly and how easily he broke. There was a part of him that knew that he'd say or do just about anything if it meant that they'd let him out of this room.

There was another part that just didn't care. He wasn't sure which one was scarier.

That empty feeling where his light had been only felt emptier and emptier with each passing moment. The raw edges where it'd been scraped away were aching and sore in ways he'd never experienced. It felt like something really had been cut out of him and the wounds left behind were raw and inflamed. Maybe that was the case. Maybe his light had been scraped out of him and the wounds left behind were infected, seeping poison into his system. It was killing him inside and he didn't know how to stop it. He didn't know how to make it go away.

Food held absolutely no appeal to him. He'd been so sure that the Winchesters were using it to drug him somehow, only he'd refused a few meals now and that feeling didn't go away. His head is foggy and aching and his body feels like it's been run over.

This isn't right, a rational voice in the back of his mind whispers. It sounds a little like JJ and Spencer curls a little tighter into himself. He was curled up against the wall, out of the direct line of sight of the door. It was the only way he was going to get any semblance of privacy. You're a fighter, Spence, JJ's vice whispers to him again. This isn't you. Something's wrong here. Something serious. You need to tell them.

Why? Spencer wanted to ask her. He laid his head down on his knees and closed his eyes, exhausted. Why bother? They don't care. They locked me in here, JJ. They locked me in here and left me here like this. Why should I tell them?

Maybe they don't know, Derek's voice suggests.

Almost immediately it's follow by Aaron's stern voice. If they wanted you dead, they would've killed you. They want you alive for something, Reid. That means they'll do what's necessary to keep you that way. Whatever this is, it's going to kill you if you don't find a way to fix it. You need to tell them.

"Go away." He whispers. They don't understand. How could they? They had no idea what this felt like. They didn't know what it was like to get everything you were ripped away from you. "Just leave me alone. I'm tired." He was so damn tired. Tired of being taken, tired of being hurt, tired of fighting. He was just utterly exhausted and he didn't know if he could find the energy to keep going and keep trying. To keep fighting.

He was so caught up in the pain and the grief and the misery that he didn't even notice anyone coming until the sound of the door opening broke through his inner argument.

Spencer didn't bother lifting his head. He rolled it just enough that he could look with one eye through the small screen of hair that hung lank and loose in front of him. The person standing in the doorway wasn't anyone that Spencer had ever seen before. Without his light, Spencer can't see any deeper than the body, can't see anything that might be hidden inside. All he can see is the shock followed almost immediately by the absolute fury on the man's face. That should've worried him. He should've been scared.

He couldn't even bring himself to care. Spencer knew he should do something to stop the guy who was now coming towards him with purpose written in every inch of his body. The guy came right up to him and crouched down in front of him. Whatever he was going to do, there was nothing Spencer could do to stop it. A faint tremor ran down his body and he let his eyes close again.

"What're you doing in here, little bird?"

The man's voice was low and almost kind—almost—with just a hint of something else underneath it that was kind of sharp and maybe even a little bit dangerous. Should he answer it? Probably not. He had no idea who this guy was or why he was here. Did the Winchesters send him? Did they know he was here? It didn't seem likely if he was asking Spencer what he was doing here. Spencer sighed and let his head rest a little more heavily against his knees. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me." The guy said, and he sounded serious.

What harm could come from answering? Spencer didn't bother opening his eyes as he said, "I'm being kept for my own protection. I'm dangerous." He didn't even have the energy to put the proper amount of scorn in those words as he would've days ago. They came out sounding heavy and throbbing with the pain that was pounding in his chest and in his head. Alone, the pain called to him with each throb, like some sick parody of his heartbeat. Alone. Gone. Alone. Gone. Empty. Alone. Alone. Alone.

"Shit." There was a soft rustle of movement that reminded Spencer that his visitor was still here. A second later, a firm hand settled on his shoulder, the first touch that Spencer had had in days. "Hang on, little bird. We're getting you the hell outta here." The hand on his shoulder slid, moving around his back, and Spencer felt another one slipping down to push between his thigh and his calf, getting under his legs. Arms that were far stronger than they should be cradled him easily and pulled him in against a solid chest before suddenly the ground was gone and the man was straightening up. Spencer knew he should care about the fact that he was being picked up. He should be wondering about who the hell this was and how he was strong enough to pick up another grown man without any signs of trouble. Yet all Spencer could do was slump down into the man's hold. I'm so tired.

"I know you are." The man murmured. "It'll get better soon, I promise. Just a second, little bird, we're almost there."

Spencer realized they were moving and he mustered up just enough strength to start to hope that maybe he was finally, truly getting out of here. Then any and all thought was wiped away. The light that had been absent for so long came roaring back in with a ferocity that stole Spencer's breath away. It filled the empty places inside him, burning gloriously through his veins, chasing away the pain and the chill that had encompassed him ever since he'd first woken up in that hellhole. It was back. It was back! Spencer didn't even notice the tears that poured from his eyes.

He could feel it growing and pulsing in him, erratic and crazy in ways that had spelled trouble in the past, but there was another light there, warm and soothing, and it wrapped around him and cradled him in a net of safety. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. After so long empty and broken, all he could feel was this amazing warmth and love and he wanted to reach out to it, wanted to wrap himself up in it, but he couldn't.

The lessons he'd learned here had been hard ones and they were ones he wasn't going to easily forget. He'd trusted another light like this before, another grace, and it had betrayed him. It'd almost destroyed him.

Though it hurt, Spencer gathered up what control he could and he curled into himself and yanked his light in as tight as possible.

The guy holding him made a soft sound that was both painful and heartbreaking. "What the hell did they do to you, kiddo?"

There was no way for Spencer to answer that. Judging by the sigh he heard, an answer wasn't expected.

Something in the air around them changed and Spencer fought not to jerk away in fear. He held himself tighter, gripped at his light and reveled in its presence inside of him.

The arms around him shifted and suddenly Spencer found himself being laid on something soft. He didn't really register the bit of grace that curled around him and cleaned him up. All he knew was that he was somewhere warm and soft and that empty place inside of him was no longer empty.

A hand brushed a bit of hair back from his face. "Sleep." The man told him, drawing his touch back. "I know you probably won't believe it, but you're safe here. Just sleep."

There was nothing else Spencer could do. Wrapped up in the light of his grace, free of pain for the first time in days, he slept.

No one realized Spencer was gone until morning. Dean went down to let Spencer out and to explain to him about the new wards, only to find the door to the panic room open and the nephilim nowhere in sight. Cursing, Dean spun on his heel and rushed back upstairs. "Bobby! Sam!"

Sam met him in the hall as he tore up the stairs and out of the basement. There was a gun in his hand and a ready look on his face. His eyes were scanning in immediate search for whatever kind of trouble had set his brother yelling like that. Not far behind him, Bobby was seated in the doorway to the living room, a shotgun held firmly in his lap. "What is it?" Sam demanded, his eyes seeking out Dean again now that there was no visible threat.

"The doc's gone." Just three words, but they had everyone tensing even more.

"Gone?" Bobby repeated. He lowered his shotgun, but not his guard. "What the hell do ya mean, gone?"

Dean threw his hands up in the air. "I mean the door was open and no one was inside. He's gone, Bobby!"

"How the hell did he get out?" Sam asked. He was lowering his gun as well. He didn't let go of it, though.

They all knew that there was no way to break out of the panic room from the inside. Even with powers that were as strong as Spencer's supposedly were. If his powers were capable of getting him out of there it would've happened sooner. But that meant that someone had let him out. The three men all eyed one another as they debated whether or not one of them did it. "I didn't let him out." Sam said slowly. They knew Bobby couldn't; his chair couldn't get down there. Dean met Sam's eyes and said the same thing "I didn't let him out, either."

Only one other person knew he was there, at least to their knowledge. One quick, angry phone call from Dean later and Castiel was standing with them. Dean didn't bother wasting time. "Did you let the doc out of the panic room?"

Surprise and something that might've been panic lit up Castiel's face. "The nephilim is free?"

"I went down there this morning to let him out into the house only to find out there wasn't anyone in the room."

Castiel didn't answer; he simply vanished. There wasn't any chance for them to do more than startle and grumble a little at his sudden disappearance before he was back again. "Something, I am not sure what, let him out last night. I cannot tell who or what it was—they had themselves well shielded. The trail is hours old and it disappears right outside of the panic room. There's no way for me to track it."

"Well, hell." Bobby grumbled.

Could things get any better? They had a nephilim on the loose, one that probably hated them by now and would want nothing to do with them, and no idea how he got out of here or who had taken him. They basically had a walking WMD out there and no idea who was in control of it.

"Great." Dean grumbled. He dropped his head back and let it thunk the wall. "That's just fucking great."

What were they going to do now?