Dean stares up at his dad in panic. "What.. uh, when did you get here?"

Turning away, John begins to collect clothes, newspapers and a stray weapon or two and toss them at Dean's duffel.

"About 3 minutes ago."

He can't resist looking around the room once more in confusion to make sure Cas wasn't still there. It's tripping him up, seeing his absent father suddenly appear when it feels like he was just holding Cas. Hell, he can still smell him on the sheets.

"She's gone," John says while scanning the surfaces for any other belongings.

Widening his eyes, Dean asks, "Huh? Who?"

"Whoever left scratches and spots all over you. Glad you were keeping busy while I was away."

Dean's neck ruffles at the familiar feeling of his father's disapproval. He catches a shirt with one hand that's thrown his way and a pair of jeans follow right after.

"Shower, grab your gear and be outside in 10 mins. We got work to do."

John zips up his bag and heads for the door, Impala's keys in his hand. Dean starts to yell, "Wait, where were you-" but his father's already out into the cheery daylight. .

Awesome. Dean slowly sits on the edge of the bed, feeling soreness that makes him blush with his dad right outside. Rubbing his eyes, he tries to clear his head from where it's spinning.

Dean takes a second to throw a quick prayer to Cas and tells him to stay away. For now, at least. He had to figure out a way to unload a lot of information on his dad, who wasn't great at dealing with surprises at the best of times. Crowley, Alastair, Angels, the prophecy bullshit… he wasn't looking forward to the upcoming car ride. When the dust settled, he'd find somewhere to meet Cas. Dean didn't know if or when they'd have another chance to be together… it felt like a cold slice of reality just woke him up. This was temporary. It always was. Something nice before their big showdown. And now it was over.

Oddly, he wishes Cas would have been here when he woke up. Which is dumb, especially since his dad would have caught them, but for the first time, he wouldn't have minded waking up next to a warm body.

Sighing, Dean feels the gruff hunter exterior wrap around him, back stiffening military straight. He takes a breath and marches into shower.

"Castiel?"

He doesn't look down to where Balthazar is calling from the ground.

A second and a gust of wind later and he perches on a nearby tree limb.

"Well you made it fun to find you."

"Has Gabriel and Michael returned?" he asks, not looking at his brother.

"They have not. Uriel did. You're out scouting by the way, just so you know."

"Thank you," he responds quietly.

"What happened-" he pauses when Cas flicks his eyes up to him. Taking in his face he quietly continues, "Anna?"

Castiel holds his gaze for a moment more, and then looks off towards the shadows made by the late afternoon sun.

They sit in silence. Balthazar shifts and straddles the tree limb. A long time passes with neither of them saying anything. Abruptly he says, "Well of course. What were we expecting, right?"

Castiel doesn't answer.

"I mean… Humans die. Spoiler! I told you that from the beginning. So what the hell were we expecting, Cassie?!" There's heat in his tone now.

Castiel hangs his head, feeling the weight of his thoughts. "I… I could have saved her. She didn't want me to. Is that unforgivable? I could have…"

Balthazar laughs harshly up at the sky.

"What?" he asks, finding his laughter unfathomable in comparison to his wretched emotions.

"Don't you dare." Balthazar grabs his shoulder in one hand so hard it hurts. He starts several times before he breathes out and smiles but not with any real humor. "She did this. She chose this. Don't you dare take on whatever guilt you have stirring in that head of yours."

He releases his arm to pat it gentler. "But she was our sister. So we mourn her and I don't know... tell happy campfire stories about her but we're not going to do that... Agreed?"

Castiel frowns at him. "Have you ever thought about it?"

"Campfire stories? Oh, frequently."

"I meant falling."

"I know what you meant." He stretches and takes out his blade. Flipping it absently, he says, "I don't see the draw, really."

Balthazar scratches his chin with the tip of Angelblade and hums like he's considering.

"Humans can't fly. They die. They're always needing something. Food, warmth, sleep, comfort, sex... they smell."

"They do not smell." Castiel is surprised into a single laugh of disbelief. Dean only ever smelled good and he wanted to smell him again at that moment very much.

Balthazar smiles and it was clear he was trying to make him smile as well. "Some of them do. Even if you don't buy into the good soldier act like Michael… what's better than this? Being able to go where you like, do what you like?"

"I can't do what I like!" he yells, suddenly angry. Balthazar turns back to him slowly and Castiel can meet his eyes only briefly before averting them. "I don't know how to not have him after this, Balthazar…"

As if picking his words carefully, his brother begins again. "I know it is natural in times like these to think the grass is greener on his side of the fence… but that lost little boy with daddy issues is not worth your wings. I've told you, he's just one human-"

"He's my one. I don't want another. No other human will ever replace him for me, can you not understand that?"

Sighing, Balthazar opens his mouth but cocks his head as he looks at the ground a little in the distance. "I think we have company."

Castiel turns over his shoulder to see a group of 8 mismatched individuals. A few were dressed up in business suits, others in jeans or shorts. All carried a demon along within them, it's dark outline like a pollutant just below the surface.

Balthazar waits until they're right under their tree and staring up at with black glassy eyes. "We were having a bit of a moment. Couldn't you come back later and we'll kill you then?"

One of them, a stout man in workboots and denim, sneers. "Give us the young one and you may leave."

Balthazar smiles at his brother then calls down, "You'll have to be more specific. I don't believe I look a day over 5 centuries."

"This is unwise. We should get assistance," Castiel says low, not taking his eyes off them.

"Aren't you feeling a little unwise?" Batlhazar answers quietly to him while smirking down at the waiting demons. "Besides I have an idea for finding the big bad demons without having to involve your darling hunter."

Castiel lets the anger and helplessness churn through his stomach and overtake the sadness. The prophecy said the demons needed Dean to release Lucifer. To kill Dean. If they could prevent it without Dean, all the better.

Pulling out his blade, he meets his brother's eyes steadily. "Okay."

"It won't be fun…"

"I know."

Dean comes around the passenger side while his dad revs the engine idly. As soon as he closes the door, the Impala takes off, making him fall back against the seat. They drive for several minutes in silence, waiting for his father to say something. Anything.

"So…" Dean sighs finally when it gets too much. Staring at his dad's profile while he drives with one hand on the steering wheel, he waits.

"So?" John parrots without looking at him.

"So where the hell you been?"

"Can't do the job by yourself? Need me to hold your hand?"

Dean flinches and works at keeping his face blank.

"I'm just sayin', I've been calling you for days..."

"Look I can't stop and check in every minute. You know that, Dean."

"Yeah, I know, but-"

"What do you have? Or did you spend the whole time shacked up in the motel?"

Dean feels the back of his neck flush and grits his teeth. "Got intel on Alastair."

His father nods at the windshield. "Tell me."

Dean shifts in place, staring at him hard. That should have been the first thing he asked about. The first thing he even said to him when he woke up and was too off-footed earlier to notice.

Dean reaches casually over the backseat and snatches his back up while he talks about interrogating a demon. John grunts and asks a few questions. He fishes around blindly in his bag, supposedly for a newspaper to show him. He can't feel his knife. All his weapons are there.. but the knife. His hand closes on a glass vial in the side inner pocket and he touches a newspaper and pulls it out with the bottle tucked in his hand.

"It's not in there."

Dean's heart drops and he pops the cap with his thumb. "What isn't?"

"Your favorite pig sticker."

A splash of holy water to the face and his dad's cheek bubbles and hisses. He doesn't howl and scream though, just smiles too large. Grinning. John Winchester never grinned.

"That's good, Dean. Alllll out in the open now."

"Who are you?" Dean pushes away with his back against the door and another bottle in his hand.

Yellow-eyes flash. "How quickly old friends are forgotten."

"Azazel." He growls it, lip curling, and wishes with every goddamn ounce of his being he had his knife. He'd been fucking stupid and careless.

"Why so glum, kid? Thought you were lookin' for me. Well, ta-da. I'm here."

"How'd you get to him."

"Daddy?" He switches hands on the wheel and pulls down the collar of his tshirt to stretch it and reveal a wide, bloody gash disrupting the tattoo. Tilting his head, he waggles his finger at him. "You're never safe, Son."

He sounds so much like his father right there, it gives him the creeps.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Only where you wanna go. We're gonna have us a little reunion. Al, me, you… maybe a special guest, who knows."

"This prophecy thing… you think that shit's actually gonna work?"

"That's the plan. This is a long time in the making. I won't bore you with all the bells and whistles but once you're bled dry… it'll be one helluva firework show. Too bad you won't see it, huh?"

He was taking him to the endgame. And he had his knife. He didn't know where yet but once he did Cas had to know… he had to tell the other angels…

"I hear the gears grinding in that lunkhead of yours. We got a long ride back… why don't you just…"

The car jerks suddenly and Dean struggles in the sudden scuffle but can't block the beefy fist that dazes him. Something much harder than flesh had hit him in the skull. Flinging the holy water in the direction of his father, Dean miscalculates and punches his shoulder. With a curse, the car veers wildly again and this time the hilt of his knife connects perfectly and takes him out.

Dean groans and lolls his head to the side. Creaking open his eyes, he tries to bring his hands up to rub the dirt out of them but he can't. His arms are too heavy. Forcing himself alert by will alone, he whips his head up and tugs on his wrists in earnest but quickly realizes he's chained to a wall.

"Welcome to the party," his dad, no Azazel, says to his left. Not his dad. Not his dad.

Glancing down, he sees his shirts ripped down around his arms at his shoulders caught on his elbows. Several symbols are drawn inside a circle that spans the width of his chest in what smells like blood.

"What the hell is this crap?"

"Window-dressing, my boy."

"I'm not your boy. You can stop with that shit."

Azazel just smiles back at him out of his father's face, toothy like a shark with his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Like the digs?"

Dean takes a moment to look around to what appears to be the inside of a barn. Wet mildewy hay, old shovels, with a rusting tractor in the far corner. There's a cement slab of a floor underneath him with a huge symbol painted in white. Can't make it out but it's sure not to mean anything good for him. The space is squeezed tight with groups of people in all size and shapes with the same glassy black eyes that flare when they look at him then bleed to normal. His head still hurts but he immediately starts counting. Maybe 30, give or take a few. More demons in one place than he'd ever seen. Fuck, this was it.

Azazel waits for him patiently to take in the odds and look back to him. Dean squints at just glares, not going to give him anything back. Tired and aching from sagging in his bonds but angry.

"Nothin' to say?"

"What else is there to say?" This was it. They caught him. Had his dad. He didn't know where he was. He was gonna be sacrificed to unleash the devil… as crazy as that sounded. He couldn't pray to angels and tell them to come because he didn't fucking know where he was. What else was there to say?

"Well you're no fun."

Yellow eyes flash and he checks to his right where Dean notices a tall skinny man with brown hair and rolled up sleeves look over at him.

Alastair. Different meatsuit, but the second that nasally voice says, "Hello, Dean," he's sure. "So nice of you to finally join us."

He smiles then goes back to a bowl of oil and a brush, painting intricate strokes over empty manacles on the wall next to Dean, maybe ten feet away.

He curls and uncurls his toes in his boots, trying to focus on that and not his fear. The chains suddenly felt ten times heavier but he would not show this bastard any of it. He'd wedge it deep down as far as he could… for as long as he could. Trying to take his mind off his spiraling thoughts, Dean turns to Azazel. "What's he doing?"

"Surprise guest," Alastair answers instead without looking away from his precise work.

Several more minutes and he seems to finish because he smiles and slowly turns his attention to Dean. It makes his stomach flip and nausea sweeps over him. The demon crosses the distance with slow measured steps and Dean balls his fists to keep calm, hoping he outwardly showed of strength.

Finally, Alastair is right in front of him, eying him steadily. It makes him want to duck his head or look at the ceiling, anywhere else but instead he bites his cheek and stays focuses on the figure of his nightmares.

"Your angel didn't heal your back?"

Dean grits his teeth at the mention of his ruined back. It makes him want to retch thinking of its maker seeing his scars while he was out and defenseless. Or painting this shit on his chest. Eventually he chokes out a gruff, "No" and manages not to look away even though he's feeling phantom twinges in his back.

Alastair's lips twitch to one side in a parody of a smile. "Our time together meant that much to you, Dean? I bet you still look at them in the mirror every night… and think of me."

Dean sneers and leans closer in his bonds, willing himself bitter, cold anger to cover the fear.

"Listen up real good. This face… it's the last you're gonna see."

Alastair smiles wider and glances to Azazel who outwardly laughs indulgently like he was a child that said something cute.

"Arrogance… we like that on our side, Dean. You know after a few decades in hell, you might make a decent demon. Perhaps I could take you under my wing…"

Dean swallows the bile in his throat at the thought and shakes his head so he can look away. Alastair tips the bowl forward and shows him the glistening viscous substance. "Holy oil."

"That supposed to mean something to me?"

"It will. Very soon." Alastair sets it down and starts mumbling quietly over the symbols until they start to glow gold.

His father hops down from the table and stops in front of him.

"Ya know, that spot was originally reserved for little Sammy."

Dean bites his tongue so he doesn't scream out. It's what they want.

"But dear old daddy proved to be made of sterner stuff. Despite Alastair's charms."

Said demon glances at him but doesn't stop his procession of harsh foreign words. It doesn't sound like Latin. At least they hadn't got Sam. They'd be crowing about it if they did. Him and his dad had always been careful never to have anything on them with an address or phone number… they don't have Sam. He repeats it several times to calm his thudding heart and racing thoughts.

The doors burst open and they both turn. A crowd of a half dozen people lugging something. Someone. Dark head bowed, holding him under the arms, bare bloody feet being dragged on the dirty floor.

"Cas…?" Dean squints. "Cas!"

He doesn't respond.

"Goddamnit, Cas?! You alright? Cas!"

The lights, a few hanging bulbs, flicker and he jerks in their hold.

Azazel looks up and laughs at the momentary light show. He whistles and still chuckling says, "Well lookie here. Caught us a big one!"

Dean watches two women lock his angel's wrists in manacles.

"Ahhhh!" Castiel throws his head back in pain and howls. He lunges and tugs and kicks at the ground. He can hear feathers rustling and rubbing. "Where…" he coughs blood and Dean sees with horror that he's leaking it and that weird light from several wounds on his arms, legs, torso. He's so out of it, he doesn't even see Dean yet. Constantly wincing and shaking, Cas tries several more times before he's able to speak.

Azazel pats him shoulder gently. "What's that, Champ? Didn't quite catch that."

"Where's my brother… where's-where's Balthazar?" he mumbles.

Azazel glances at one of the demons who smirks and shakes their head with obvious pride. "Looks like you're one bro short for the family photo now."

"No!" Cas coughs and jerks, kicking at the ground.

"Sorry to be the one to break it to ya. My condolences." Azazel strolls in front of him and when he's very close, Cas suddenly lunges and is brought up short an inch or two away. The demon doesn't jump, but casually says, "Nice to talk to you without a door between us."

"I. Will. Destroy. You." Cas forces it out, guttural voice filled with hate. He drops his head after a second, the energy seeming to have been spent in just that small effort.

"Hey, don't look at me. If you want someone to blame…" he grabs a fistful of Cas' hair and forces his head up. "Look no further than that All-American dream-boat."

"Dean?" Cas pants and winces, focusing on him for the first time.

Dean swallows, forcing himself not to say anything. It's what the bastards want. Azazel lets go of Cas' hair, but he remains staring at him, head up. "Why are you here? Why…"

"You shoulda just given him to me, Castiel. Didn't I ask nicely?" The demon cajoles. "Now we're all back here again."

"Well at least you have a front row seat to what is sure to be the show of the millennia," Alastair smirks at them both. "And you're together of course. Do you think that makes it easier or worse?"

They stare at each other from ten feet away. Regret and sorrow so thick you can almost taste it in the air.

Cas winces when he gets stuck in the ribs with a dark shining blade.

"Knock it off. You're giving me a tooth-ache," Alastair coos.

"Stop," Dean growls.

"Pardon? What was that?" Alastair asks as he twists the knife, making Cas cries out again.

"I said, Stop!" Dean barks. "You wanted me, right?! You got me. You don't need him. Stick me!"

"Hmm…" He watches his father scratch his chin like he's thinking; already knowing he was making it worse. "I guess we should just let him go, huh?"

Dean jumps forward in his bonds when Alastair yanks out the blade hard.

"This isn't your first rodeo, Dean. Don't say stupid things."

Watching Cas groan and close his eyes, Dean quickly asks, "Don't you think you're gonna bring down a shit-ton of angelic fury on your asses?"

Azazel hops up on a bench to his left and stretches out his legs. "Concerned for us? How sweet. Well don't worry that pretty little noggin', buddy boy. I have a strange feeling, call it a premonition, that allll the angels are busy hashing out what to do."

Several black-eyed demons snicker and Alastair snorts. "Arrogant pricks. By the time those bureaucrats decide anything; you'll be a bloody stain Lucifer's walking over.

"How do you know that?" Cas puffs out, weakly.

"A little birdy told me."

"Crowley." Dean's lip curls.

"Nah, he played his part already."

"Why be coy? This is the end of the road, ain't it?" Dean asks.

Azazel shrugs. "I never give away all my secrets. Takes away some of the magic don't ya think? Besides you should be focused on more important things."

"Like?"

"Got a little game for you before the big send off."

Dean is half paying attention as he keeps checking back over at Cas, who sags in his chains dripping blood and grace from several holes.

"It's called Who Do You Love More? I thought it'd be a fun way to pass the time."

"What?" Dean swings his attention back to him with a frown.

"Starring…" he nods at Alastair who slices Cas in the arm and makes him jerk up. "Castiel playing the Lover! And…" Azazel twirls in place ending with a ta-da motion. "John Winchester playing the Father!"

He raises his hands high and the dozens of lackey demons farther back deliver rousing applause. After it dies down, Azazel saunters over to him. "See, its simple, Sonny. We're gonna kill one of them and it's gonna be long. Its gonna be drawn out. And It's gonna be bloody. Now you can either choose to set free your loverwings or dear ole daddy, but you gotta pick one. Thems the rules."

"Tough choice in any young man's life…" Alastair sympathizes.

"Is it though?" Azazel contemplates, scratching his chin. "Blood over Love?"

Alastair grunts. "I'd choose blood."

"You always do." Azazel grins.

Dean's eyes dart between the demons and Cas. "No. I- I can't do this."

"Dean… they'll kill us both anyway…" Cas tries but gets stuck again for his trouble.

"Now, now…" Azazel waggles his father's fingers at Cas then turns to Dean. "Scout's Honor." He even makes the freaking hand sign. "You choose daddy and he'll wake up in his motelroom tomorrow morning. Choose Castiel and he'll fly away to fight again another day. I mean, they're probably gonna need every angel they got once Lucifer's popped his chains, right?"

Dean's face hardens as Azazel walks over to Cas and lifts up his hanging head by the chin.

"I know he looks a little roughened up but don't let that sway ya. Give him an hour, maybe two, and he'll be A-ok. Isn't it kinda your fault he's here? Then again… what life you gonna have with this bumble bee anyway? You think he'll stick around when you're old and grey, visit you at your nursing home window and feed you applesauce? Just look at that pretty mug." He pats Cas' cheek hard.

Dean stares helplessly at Cas, who's eyes are drifting. Glazed. He can't watch Cas die… but his dad...

Alastair drags the tips of one of those damn black DemonBlades teasingly over old wounds, re-opening them one at a time. "Are you ticklish?" he asks Cas idly. "I've found ticklish spots seem to have extra sensitivity to pain as well." Without taking his eyes from the blade on Cas' skin, he calls out, "What do you think, Dean? Here?" He cuts a shallow slice at the bend of his elbow. As Cas jerks in his bonds, Alastair asks, "Maybe the bottom of his feet?"

"Why are you doing this?!" Dean yells at the demon, desperate for his attention so he stops. "Why not just torture me?!"

Alastair hasn't even touched him yet, but this has to be worse. Let them slice him open if it'll keep them from cutting Cas one more time.

"We are, Dean buddy." Azazel smirks. "We figured out your soft spots aren't anywhere Al can poke."

Watching him and without looking back at Cas, Alastair pushes the blade in just an inch, forcing a painful noise like a harsh hiccup out of the angel's mouth.

Dean yells out, unintelligible, and jerks mindlessly in his chains.

"Loooove is a many splendor thing…" Alastair sings then continues humming the song under his breath while Azazel claps and says, "So who's it gonna be?"

"I'm not playing your game, Asshole," Dean growls with hate.

"No? Maybe it'd help if you got daddy's thoughts on the matter."

Dean's heart stutter for whatever's coming next.

"Bet it'd go something like this…" Azazel clears his father's throat and when he begins again his voice is deeper, rougher. "You disgust me, Dean." He breaks into a wide smile, eyes flashing yellow before he sobers again. "You're a weak, little bitch."

Dean refuses to look away and give the demon the satisfaction even though the words are validation of every dark, self-loathing thought he'd ever had. It takes all he has, but he stares right into his father's eyes.

He steps back to looks Cas up and down pointedly then at Dean wearing a look of pure revulsion. "You've been letting that thing fuck you while I was-"

"Okay, stop." Dean flicks his eyes past him to watch Cas instead. He keeps his head up and keeps eye contact for him. His eyes are so blue. Focus on that. Not the creepy crawlies he has on the back of his neck.

"You're such a goddamn disappointment. Not even a man. I can't stand to look at you." He sidles closer with each venomous word and Dean waits, breathing out slowly.

"Dean…" Cas calls, brow furrowing as if he was worried about him of all things when Cas was the one full of holes.

"Your mother's dead because of you!" John's eyes flash yellow as he barks from a foot away. The words hurt but he can take them. It killed his mom. It killed his mom. He repeats to himself.

"Stop!" he whines, and as predicted the demon comes closer, wanting to inflict more pain.

"You let them kill her, Dean. You were there. You could have stopped it."

Dean growls and headbutts him when he's at last close enough, stomps on his legs and quickly starts muttering an exorcism. It won't be enough but the way he grimaces gives him a small slice of satisfaction.

Two seconds later, a knife is to his throat biting into the skin.

"That's enough, Dean." Alastair strokes his neck with the blade and steps back again.

He spits near Azazel who's dusting himself off. "You're not my dad," he tells the demon. Dean's not sure if his dad would say any of that or not but he's not going to let a demon fuck with him anymore.

Azazel laughs his father's dry chuckle. "Okay, Son. You don't wanna play?"

He briskly walks over to Cas. Dean has time to yell out his name before Azazel grabs the knife from Alastair and stabs him three times in the side. Not deep enough but it makes Cas scream out. How much more could he take?

After Cas bows in pain and sags once more, Azazel breathes out a sigh and hands back the blade.

"This won't kill him, Dean. Angels are hard bastards to kill…" he cocks his head and his face contorts with ugly smugness. "But kill him we will. And you have the rest of your life to watch it happen." He checks his father's watch. "Which is about oh… 4 hours."

The next few hours is every bit as awful as they promise. He holds his breath through every pain-filled noise Cas makes and waits to see his eyes. Cas always looks back at him, let's him see he's still there… but it takes him longer and longer now.

The demons filling the barn are keeping busy. Some shuffle outside in small groups and return to speak with either Azazel or Alastair each time. A few mix ingredients or chant off and on over some old bone. None approach them, but they do bare witness and seem to take grim pleasure out of the torture of an angel. Azazel taunts Dean while Alastair slowly and methodically covers his chest with new slices. After what seems like hours, they show him the hook and harness they plan to suspend him upside over the chalked symbol and slit his throat at the right hour. Anointing the mark and opening the gate for Lucifer.

It must be close now. All the demons seems to be buzzing with energy and nervous chatting. The two head haunchos are occupied watching over a very delicate ritual by the looks of it, repeating carefully words in tandem over a bowl of blood they pour over the bone.

Dean whispers, "Cas… still hangin' in there?"

"I… I am hanging, yes," he groans.

Dean can't even smile over his literal response. Hard to imagine just this morning they'd been kissing, now he was chained across from him, waiting for the final blow. And one of these times, Cas wasn't going to look up and meet his eyes again. "I'm sorry, man. They only grabbed you because of me... Just to hurt me. Goddamn, I'm so fucking sorry-"

"Stop…" he pants and opens his eyes to gaze hazily ahead at Dean. "Even- even knowing it would end like this… I'd still have come to your window."

Dean can only stare into his eyes with regret and wish he'd never come. Never tempted Cas into visiting him and never dragged him into this. Longing passes between them as all the things he wishes he could say to him fly through his mind.

"So I guess this is the end, huh?"

Even if it was, he can't bring himself to say the words. Make some sappy declaration with black-eyes watching them. Cas doesn't answer anyway, letting his head drop again.

"I kept you're stupid feather."

With effort, the angel picks his head up and smiles weakly. "I know."

Dean cocks his head, "Yeah?"

"I saw you with it."

"When you were stalking me."

"Watching over you..." Cas corrects.

Dean grunts and presses his lips hard. "I just couldn't let you go, man. I tried… I wish we had had more time. You and me… I wish I could fix it all."

Cas thinks on that then says, "You told me there was no value in wishing. Wishing does not change anything, Dean."

"For you, I'm wishing."

They smile bittersweet at one another, resigned to their fate.

A female brunette in a grey pant suit walks up to Azazel. "What is it?"

"We haven't heard back from the last group we sent out."

"How long?

"They were supposed to return 10 minutes ago."

Alastair and him trade a look. "They are incompetent," he allows.

Azazel glances towards the moon and then at the group of remaining. There's almost 3 dozen left. "No such thing as coincidences. Alright, grab the boy and get him in position. Gotta be ready just in case. Twenty minutes left... they aren't gonna make it."

Hands grabs him as they unfasten his manacles and pull him toward the hook hanging from a center beam high above. "Dean, say nighty night to your angel."

Dean fights the whole way as they bind his arms with rope, but within only a few moments, he's secured upside down.

Just as the last demon steps away from him, Dean hears a lone bulb pop near him. All the demons turn to look at it, then at their big wigs.

"This is it, Children," Azazel says with his father's voice. Scratching like nails on a chalkboard can be heard as demons all around pull out black blades like the one Alastair has.

He looks to Cas, expecting to have some morbid goodbye, but instead he's... smiling. At least he thinks he is but it's hard to see straight with a headache already forming from hanging on a hook like this. Cas even seems now to push up on the wall and put weight on his legs for the first time in hours.

All the lights dims once, drawing Dean's attention away, then simultaneously every bulb shatters and litters the floor with glass. Cas chuckles and coughs harshly. Demons start getting closer together and looking around wildly.

"What is it?" he asks, blood rushing to his head.

Smiling affectionately at Dean, Cas says, "Tootsie pop."