A/N: Okay, okay I am the most horrible, untimely person/writer ever. I'm thinking there's only going to be one more chapter of this, but if any of you have suggestions I would be more than happy to write them in! Love you guys, thank you for putting up with my sporadic chapters as of late!
By the time the older Winchester got to the bunker, he quickly realized something was terribly wrong. After giving up on trying Sammy's number multiple times, he stepped on the gas, a thousand scenarios flashing through his mind as he drove. He found Sam slumped against a broken chair, blood trickling down his face. Kevin wasn't far away, but he was only barely conscious. Dean looked around the room frantically, searching for any sign of the tan trench coat laying somewhere in the bunker, but deep down inside he knew he wasn't going to find it. Trying to push back the growing knot that was forming in his stomach, he gently shook his weakened brother from his temporary coma.
"Sam. Sammy. Sam, come on, wake up!"
Sam's eyes fluttered open as he tried to focus on his brother who was inches away from his face. He blinked hard and gasped at the throbbing pain emanating from his head.
"..wha… what happened? Dean, oh God, Dean! Cas!"
Once Dean got Sammy to calm down long enough to explain what happened before he was knocked unconscious, he paced around the bunker, rubbing a hand down his face periodically. Barachiel had ambushed Cas first, quickly putting him back into the state he had done several times before. Once Sam had realized what was going on, he tried everything he could to stop him, but the effort was futile. What could a half broken, shamble of a man do to stop an archangel sitting on thousands of years planning for revenge? Not that it was anything less than Dean would have done, but he couldn't help thinking over and over that he could have done something had he not acted like a child and ran away in the Impala. He should've never left Cas. Or Sam. Or Kevin. A feeling of guilt swarmed through his body, as he thought of all the ways he could have saved them. But he knew thinking about it was useless. He tried praying to Cas, praying to Naomi and every other bastard angel he knew of. Hell, he even tried Crowley. He tried until he hadn't a prayer left to give.
Castiel opened his eyes to a blurred light that was so bright it made it hard to keep his eyes open. He heard voices vaguely in the background and started to wonder how long he had been out. One thing he gathered immediately, was the fact that those voices were not the Winchesters, and he was unable to move. After wracking his brain trying to figure out how he got there with no avail, he swallowed hard, trying to get his eyes to focus in on the direction the voices were coming from. He could make out two dark haired figures and a shadowy blur that was splayed on a nearby surface. He closed his eyes again and took in a ragged breath, trying not to bring attention to himself. Somehow, he knew what was going on even though he couldn't see what was in front of him. And oh, how he felt so very naïve. He could feel something tightening in his midsection, similarly to the way he felt when Dean was in his presence. Except, this feeling wasn't so pleasant.
Dean flung the door open to the bunker, looking everywhere outside that was already in view. He looked up to the evening sky and squeezed his eyes shut, tangling his hands in his hair. Tears stung at his eyes. He didn't know if he would ever see Cas again, and the thought of it broke him in two. He wiped away the salty tears that streaked his cheeks, and prayed one last time that his angel would be alright. He just wanted Cas to be alright.
Voices broke Castiel's train of thought as he tried to find the Winchesters. If he wasn't going to make it out of this, he wanted to at least make sure they were safe. He tried again to move his head, but without much luck. His slight movement, however, was enough to alert his captors that he was awake and coherent enough to have a 'chat'.
"Castiel. So glad you could join us," spoke the man he recognized to be Metatron.
"What.. what do you want from me?" Castiel tried to find his voice, but it came out as more of a squeak.
Neither figures answered, choosing to continue chatting among one another. The only words Cas could make out were 'grace' and 'angels' and 'spell' but that was all he needed to hear to know exactly what was going on. He felt so stupid, so foolish to believe that Barachiel was telling the truth. His heart sunk when his mind drifted back to Dean. He hadn't just let his brothers and sisters down, he had let Dean down. And if that wasn't enough to break someone in half, he didn't know what would. His attention was snapped back to the traitors when he heard the ear grating voice of Metatron again.
"Castiel, do you remember how we talked about the trials to shut down Heaven?"
Cas' eyes darted around the room, finally falling on the figure sprawled out on what he quickly deduced was a desk. It was Naomi lying eyes open in a pool of crimson blood. He cringed inwardly, forcing himself to look at Metatron and Barachiel once more.
"Not very chatty today, are we? Well, no matter. I believe you already know the answer to this." He smiled a cheeky grin as he twirled an angel blade delicately in his hands. "Your grace seems to be the only one suitable for this spell, since you know, you're the only one who's screwed up more times than Lucifer himself."
Castiel glared at the short, older-looking man, but said nothing knowing very well what he was about to say next.
He thought about telling him, stick it where the sun don't shine, but instead, he could barely get out, "what are you going to do to me". His words almost came out as a whimper, his mouth suddenly becoming dry with fear. Barachiel stepped closer to Cas and he could see him raising the angel blade out of the corner of his eye before he pressed it into the tender skin of the trapped angel's neck. His eyes swept back to Metatron, whose voice tore his attention away from Barachiel and the angel sword pressed threateningly into his throat. "Castiel, Castiel, Castiel. There really was no way I could tell you what was really going on without you refusing. Not while you were still tied to those hunters of yours, anyways. The last trial to close off Heaven was the grace of an angel and well, it was your grace I needed, more specifically. See, it could only work with a grace who had experienced unconditional love, and we all know how you feel about Dean Winchester."
Castiel's entire body seemed to stiffen and frown at the mention of Dean. He didn't even know if he was safe, or alive at this point and oh, how his heart began to ache at the thought.
"Don't look so glum, Castiel. It was never my intent to kill you or your precious humans, so relax a little. What I'm about to give you, is something so much more precious, more fragile than being an angel. It's much more precious than your life could ever be as you are now."
Dean sat on the damp ground with his head in between his palms. He knew Sam and Kevin would be alright for the time being, but the thought didn't sooth the worrying and heartache he felt. Cas was somewhere out there, possibly dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. The helplessness he felt was so immense, and it yanked and tore at his very being. Not only was he unable to save his brother from the Trials, but now his best friend, the person he deeply and irrevocably loved, was gone, snatched right from his fingertips. The pit in his stomach grew and grew, and the next thing he knew, he was on his feet, kicking at a large rock that flew into a nearby tree, spraying splinters of bark as it hit contact. He just wanted Castiel back in his arms, where he could kiss him until he was drunk off his taste and scent, where he could feel the warmth and curve of his body against his own. He didn't even know if the ignorant bastard knew how Dean really felt about him, and he was beginning to think that he would never get the chance to tell him.