Castiel woke in a damp, dusty room, groggy and confused. His memory rushed back to him instantly. His eyes snapped open. He was confined with holy fire, the cage large and wide. Dean sat outside it, his black eyes shining against the light of the flame. Castiel looked back at himself. He saw he was without his shirt or trench coat again. He was leaning against a thin medal pillar in the center of the fire. It soon became apparent to him that he was in a cellar of some kind.

"Morning, sunshine." Dean chuckled when seeing the angel stir. Castiel promptly ignored him. He could move, so whatever spell he had used, it wasn't the same one. "And here I thought you were going to sleep all day." He stepped over the holy fire. Two large meat hooks were in hand which had chains attached to the end. Dean leaned down next to him, their faces only inches apart. "You're not going to fight with me, are you?"

"I will not harm Dean Winchester." Castiel whispered. He peeked down at the meat hooks. They had sigils carved on all edge of it. The angel's stomach twisted, making his feel as though he was going to lose his stomach.

Dean ran a hand through Castiel hair, smiling. He didn't reply to the angel's word, just started on his work.

"Stand up." Dean hissed at him and, surprisingly, Castiel did what he was told, watching Dean's every movement closely, hands clenched to fists. The demon lifted the first hook, pressing it against the angel's side as he sucked in a gasp of breath. He couldn't stifle a scream as the hook pressed through the soft skin and through the other side. Dean wrapped the chain coming from the end of the hook around the pole in which Castiel was leaning against. His legs were beginning to fail him due to the pain, but Dean rushed the other hook through the angel's shoulder, tying that chain to the pole as well. Castiel was tethered securely to the pole, unable to lower himself to the ground without the risk of tearing the skin any farther.

Castiel breathes were sharp and short, choking on sob, limbs trembling wildly. He couldn't scream anymore. The pain was to sharp. Dean waited, watching the scarlet, drip down his body and stain the pants he was dressed in and pool below him.

Dean stepped out of the circle, shuffling through his table of knives displaced neatly across it. The pain was already making Castiel's vision fuzzy, but he couldn't leave Dean – the real Dean – trapped in there. So, he mustered up all the power he had left and suck in a deep breath of air. "Dean."

The surprised on the demon's face could not be hidden. He turned staring at him until he understood he couldn't go on with what he was staying. Dean approached him, blade in one hand. "What is it, Castiel?" He snickered. They were nearly nose to nose again. "What do you want to say to me?"

There was no immediately response, but Castiel slowly reached a trembling hand forward, taking Dean's and giving it a small squeeze as Dean had done before to him. The demon reacted immediately. The knife sunk in Castiel stomach.

The demon hadn't been angry at Castiel before. The torturing formally had been out of malice, now though, it was pure rage. He was cutting deep, raking the knife down his stomach and legs. Soon, the hooks had to support Castiel completely, tearing skin as it did so. His body was just too weak. Castiel just kept screaming Dean's name though, crying for him to realize what was happening. He never did though.

Time had no meaning down in the cellar. It could have been minutes or hours. It was impossible to tell. But after a period of time, Dean's tortures began to falter. He moved slower, teeth clenched. He even began to stumble. Then, he fled the room. That's when Castiel finally let the blackness take over and he fell unconscious.

The angel woke in a daze, but he was determined. The holy fire had burnt itself out so all that was restraining him was the two meat hooks. It was like ripping off a band aid. All it took was one swift motion and they were out, leaving nothing but sickly gashes. It started the bleeding again, but he was free and now that they were out, he would heal quickly.

Castiel stepped farther into the cellar, searching every corner of it. The knives were gone and any trace of Dean was gone. His clothes were still there though, thrown in the corner carelessly. He took the chance to wipe the remaining blood off with his hands before throwing on his shirt and trench coat. Luckily, most of the wounds had already healed.

Once clothed again, Castiel pulled his cellphone, which was still intact, and type in Dean's cellphone number, which he had been forced to memorized. "Dean?"

"Cass," Dean was pissed. "Where the fuck have you been? Where are you?"

"Dean, please." Castiel urged, through bared teeth. "Tell me your location, I will come."

Immediately, Dean said the address and room number of the hotel he was staying in. Castiel was there, accompanied by the familiar flutter of wings. Dean was there, pacing and restless, and he came at the angel immediately, throwing a fist that met Castiel's cheek. It didn't harm Castiel though, now that spell wore off.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean snarled through clenched teeth as he held his, now aching, fist. "Do you have any idea how many times I called you? God, how was I supposed to know you weren't dead? You know what you–"

"Dean," Castiel finally interrupted, silencing the hunter. "I'm sorry." Dean must have heard the sincerity in the angel's voice, because he lurched forward, pulling him into a tight hug.

"You listen to me." Dean hissed, his arms holding Castiel tightly against him. "Never leave again, got that? Stay right here with me."

Castiel's head was resting on Dean's shoulder, face pressed in the nape of his neck. Both of his arms were rounded around Dean's torso. "I promise, Dean. I will never leave you." The rest of what happened was a complete blur to the already groggy angel. He remembered lips being pressed against his own. He remembered his clothes being stripped from him and his body being pressed against the bed.

What happened after was pure bliss.