Warning: Somewhat graphic torture.
Castiel stared, blatantly shocked. This wasn't Dean, he could see it, but it wasn't a separate demon. This was the demon that Dean turned into when he was in hell. The angel had thought he had destroyed this monster completely. Now it had become apparent to him he just suppressed the demon. It never truly left though.
"You remember me, Cass, don't you?" Dean went on, taking slow steps around the ring of holy fire. "The one you gripped tight and rose from perdition, right?"
"I did not raise you." Castiel spit through clenched teeth as he scowl at the creature rounding him. His jaw was clenched, ready to defend himself if at all possible, but he was pasty white. He was scared. "I raised Dean."
"I am Dean." He stated simply, before stopping in front of him. "Just a side you didn't clean up as well as you thought you did." At that, Dean began to hiss out a chant. It was Enochian. He uttered it once and Castiel was beginning to feel the strength drain from him. By the third time he spoke it, Castiel was on his knees, sucking it a deep gasp of breath. It was like a punch in the stomach and he couldn't recover from it.
Dean hopped over the fire and into the caged area. His fingers curled around Castiel's dark hair and yanked it up, forcing him to look up. "Did you ever consider the fact that I was happy?" The first blow came down and met Castiel's jaw. It hurt. Castiel was an angel, getting punched in the face wasn't supposed to hurt. Whatever Dean chanted was powerful.
"You're not Dean." The angel mumbled as the fist met his cheek again. The demon then grabbed his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet. Blue eyes stared up at black, as both of them decided their next move. Dean dropped Castiel's face and stepped back over the ring of fire. During his short absences, the angel fell farther, using his hands to prop him up. His whole body ached with weariness. This spell was very powerful, but that didn't mean it could last forever, right?
Dean returned only a minute later, dragging a squeaky, metal cart behind him. The metal cart was decorated with knives, blades, and hooks of all different sizes. How long was this being planned? It would take weeks to find this assortment of weapons. This demon was impressive, to say the least. It was running the Winchester brothers on a wild goose chase when they were actually tracking a creature inside Dean. Very clever.
"I never wanted to leave hell, Castiel." Dean mused, lifting up a scalpel. Although it's small size, it terrified the angel just the same. He could be hurt by it now. The demon twisted it in his fingers, letting the dim light of the flame reflect of the metal. "I belong there… But if I try to get back, you'll just pull me back up." The black eyes moved from the blade to Castiel. "That just isn't fair, is it?"
Dean stepped over the flames, leaning down next to him. He used his single, free hand to pluck the trench coat off the slumped figure and tossing it outside the flame. He did the same thing with the white button-up shirt. "You know what the best thing about this is?" Dean asked, moving to the back of Castiel. "No matter how much I torture you, you won't die. Hundreds of the victims I tortured begged for death, but they couldn't." His pale lips twitched up in a grin. "I guess you'll know what that feels like, huh?"
Castiel shuddered and attempted to pull away, but his body suddenly felt like a weighed a hundred more pounds and he was rendered motionless, propped up on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. Dean placed one hand on the angel's bare back, lifting the scalpel. It took a moment before he decided where the tip of the blade would land. He decided on the center of the left rib cage.
Dean moved slowly, steadily dragging the tip of the small knife down the soft pale skin, blood spilling out of the fresh incision. Castiel couldn't imagine worse pain. The blade was cutting deep, raking across his skin again and again, but he couldn't move. He wailed, heavy breath quickly turning into racked gasps.
The demon found pleasure with causing the trapped angel so much pain. The hand that was resting on his bare back forced him down so he was lying helplessly on his stomach, sucking in air desperately, choking back sobs. Dean lifted himself returning to the cart of the knives, returning the scalpel to its spot and picking up a curved knife instead. He examined it a moment as Castiel stared, eyes huge.
Dean returned moments later, kneeling over his again. He ran the knife down his back, nice and slow. There was just enough force on the blade to cut the skin, but not yet enough to cause to him scream. It took the angel a moment to realize the noise that he was uttering. It was a whimper. He was whimpering.
The whimpers didn't last though. Soon, the curved knife was plunged into the small of his back, sinking until only the handle jutted out. Castiel screamed his writhes nothing but twitches. His agony didn't need to be expressed by thrashes though, his screams said enough. Dean leaned forward, placing one hand on Castiel's head as his other hand grabbed the handle of the blade and twisted. Blood gushed, spilling to the dirty ground below as the angel cried out. Tears swelled in his eyes, but he did not weep. He would not give this demon the pleasure of seeing him cry.
Dean paused once he made his first round with the knife. He waited patiently for Castiel's wails to finally die out. His throat was raw and it burned. That was nothing compared to the rest of his body. He now felt pity for those in hell, having to suffer this every day for eternity. No one deserved this form of suffering.
The blade was removed in a single, sharp jerk upward and – due to the hooked blade – it lengthened the already twisted gash into something worse. Castiel's vision was growing blurry from the pain that was shooting mercilessly through his back and travelling to the rest of his body.
"Castiel…" The angel heard from a few feet of head in a mocking voice. "Stay with me, Cass. Don't black out on me yet." Dean was returning. Castiel was attempting desperately to wriggle away, kick him, do anything, but his body wouldn't let him. He was trapped there.
The angel couldn't tell what kind of blade he was holding this time, but by the feeling of it when it entered his back shoulder, it was thick. Maybe a cleaver. Castiel was howling again. He could feel the thick, warm blood trickling down his shoulder, pooling on his back, forming puddled below him.
That's when the pain grew to be too much. Blackness creped from the corner of his eyes and despite that face Dean was still cutting, his body was going numb. The darkness took over as Castiel finally slipped off.
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