Let's see if we can get Cas out of there! Only one chapter after this one!
Chapter Three
Castiel panted as he lay on the rack, his body screaming from adrenaline and pain. Any second the bowl holding the hot coals over his wing could tip and completely cripple him for life. It had already started to tip, the contraption clicking several steps lower, nearly giving Castiel a heart attack each time. His nerves were frayed from the anticipation, obviously Crowley's plan.
The King of Hell was sitting on the other side of the room with a teacup in hand, watching with a smug and overall pleased expression on his face. He would occasionally get up and poke at the contraption as if to see why it was taking so long, during which Castiel would squeeze his eyes shut. He wasn't sure if it would be better to know, to see it coming, or otherwise.
He just wanted it to be over.
The bowl tipped another fraction, teetering in it's precarious holder. Castiel couldn't help the frustrated whimper that escaped his throat. Crowley seemed to find it amusing.
"Getting impatient, darling? No one appreciates foreplay anymore."
"Why can't you just get it over with?" Castiel growled, again struggling pointlessly to free himself.
Crowley sighed. "What would be the fun of that? If I wanted you dead—and true, that is the ultimate goal here—I would have killed you straight off. But the pleasure comes from watching you suffer. Making you pay for what you did. You may bear the scars from Hell, but I didn't get to inflict them, so now it is my turn."
Castiel slumped back, fists clenching, then the bowl tipped again, sending a brand new jolt of panic through him. Tears pricked against his eyes, but he blinked them away. He would not let Crowley see him cry again.
It was then that Castiel heard something as if from far away. Footsteps ran down the hallway outside and the door was swung open.
Crowley glowered at the demon who came in without invitation. "Doesn't anyone know how to knock?"
"My lord, we're experiencing a…um…some problems," the demon stuttered.
Crowley looked at him blandly. "What sort of problems?"
"Um, er, there's been a breach, my lord," the demon admitted.
"Then deal with it," Crowley enunciated slowly as if the demon were stupid. "I asked not to be disturbed. Are you fools ever going to learn—"
He trailed off looking down the hall as the sounds grew louder and Castiel watched as a demon flew into sight and slumped dead on the ground.
Right before two more figures appeared.
New hope flooded Castiel then, and more tears, this time of relief. "Dean!" he cried, letting the rescuers know he was there. "Sam!"
The two brothers—his brothers—looked up and charged the door. The demon who had come to warn Crowley actually screamed as he was taken down. Crowley himself seemed to see the hopelessness of the situation, turning to Castiel with a sneer. "This isn't the last you'll see of me, pigeon." Then he disappeared.
Dean took the demon down with a single stab to the chest then was right on Sam's heels as the younger Winchester rushed into the room, looking around for more foes.
"Cas!" Dean cried, eyes widening as he saw Castiel's helpless position, and took in the contraption hanging over him.
"Dean, Sam, get me out," Castiel pleaded.
At just that moment, the contraption clicked again and Castiel watched in breathless horror as the bowl tipped and didn't stop. He thought his heart might have stopped beating as he watched the bowl with the glowing red coals fall down toward him.
And then Sam was there, arms outstretched, as he practically threw himself over Castiel's wing and caught the bowl.
Sam cried out and dropped the hot bowl on the floor, harmlessly, scattering the coals across the tiles.
Castiel slumped against the rack, eyes shut and just breathing. Tears slid down his face in gratitude and relief.
Hands suddenly cupped his face. "Cas, hey, look at me? You all right?"
He couldn't speak, his throat too tight, so he nodded, his chest spasming with a bit-back sob, opening his eyes a slit to see Dean leaning over him with concern on his face.
"Okay, you're okay, I'm gonna get you out of here. Sammy?" Castiel glanced over to see the younger Winchester nursing his hands, which had obviously been burned when he touched the bowl.
"Yeah, I'm good," Sam said, flashing a smile.
Dean flattened his lips. "Stay with him, I'm gonna look for a key."
Sam moved over to Castiel and started to clumsily undo the straps that held his wings down since those didn't need a key.
"Sam, your hands," Castiel said softly as he watched the young man work.
"Not too bad," Sam shrugged. "Not as bad as it could have been."
Castiel shuddered. No. It could have been worse for both of them.
"What is this?" Sam asked as his fingers slid across the straps, seeming to find it hard to get purchase as he carefully worked around the one closest to the feathers Crowley had burned earlier as a test.
"Holy oil," Castiel said simply.
"Oh god, Cas, I'm sorry," Sam said, horror obvious in his eyes.
"Don't be," Castiel told him. "You came just in time."
Sam's hand settled onto the shoulder of Castiel's wing and gave a reassuring squeeze as he smiled.
"Got it," Dean said, coming over with a key as he started to unlock the shackles around Castiel's wrists and ankles then waved Sam aside and finished the rest of the straps.
"All right, up you come, easy," Dean told him and he and Sam both grabbed an arm and eased Castiel up. His wounds protested, but he managed to get his feet under him and after that he could lean against his brothers for support.
"Let's get out of here," Dean said firmly and led the way, he and Sam still keeping Castiel upright.
Castiel glanced around as they exited Crowley's lair, seeing several more dead demons. Thankfully, it seemed that most of Crowley's demons were off doing errands so there weren't too many for the Winchesters to handle.
He was extremely glad to see the Impala when they got outside though, and sagged even more as they led him over to the car.
"How are the wings?" Dean asked him, glancing over Castiel's shoulder with a frown. "What the hell is all over them?"
"Holy oil," Castiel gritted out.
Dean's face tightened. "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. I'm going to soak him in holy oil and light his ass."
"Can we do it later?" Castiel asked wearily.
Dean's face twitched but he went into action, opening the back door of the car and then went around to the trunk, pulling out an old blanket and several cloths, but Castiel shook his head.
"Don't waste your time with that. We can't just rub it off." His wings were heavy and the left one, which Crowley had burned earlier stung continuously. He slumped against Sam and the younger Winchester pushed him closer to the car.
"We'll figure it out when we get back to the motel room," Sam said and helped Castiel slide into the Impala. It was a tight fit with his wings, but he managed it. Dean handed him the blanket and Castiel tucked it around himself so that his wings wouldn't be visible to anyone who came across them. Luckily it was nighttime so it wasn't as likely anyone would see them.
Dean then climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, gunning the Impala out of the lot.
Castiel leaned back, allowing himself to be comforted by the familiar sound of the Impala's engine, the presence of Sam and Dean. His body still hurt, and the horror of what could have happened—what almost had happened—was still leaving his nerves frayed, but he knew it was over now.
They didn't drive for long, only until they got into the nearest town and then Dean stopped at the first motel they came across. He went to get a room and then came back out park them in front of their room.
Sam and Dean got out first and Dean unlocked the door, looked around, and when they saw no one, he nodded. "Okay, let's go."
They helped Castiel inside and he slumped gingerly onto the foot of one of the beds, his oil soaked wings held awkwardly away from him and the bed.
Dean went back out and grabbed their bags and the first aid kit. Sam stood by Castiel seeming unsure of what to do.
Dean came back to him, and reached out for Sam's wrists. "How are your hands?" he asked with gruff worry, inspecting the reddened skin on Sam's palms.
Sam huffed a frustrated breath. "They hurt, but not too bad. Don't think I'll be able to help stitch though."
Dean nodded. "Go get a shower going for Cas then and I'll bandage those up." He turned back to Castiel. "We need to get your wings clean and we may as well wash the blood off while we're at it," Dean told the angel as he turned back to him, giving him a once over.
"Dean, it's oil, it's not going to come off in the shower," Sam protested.
"He's right," Cas said in defeat. "I don't know how we're going to get it out. We may have to scrape the majority of it out and wait for the rest to dissipate." His wings did naturally create oil like any bird to keep his feathers from getting dry and ragged, but this was so heavy and sticky and wasn't supposed to be there. He knew it would clot his wings and make flying difficult, but he didn't know what else to do.
"No way," Dean said. "We can't leave it on you; what would happen if you stood too close to a fire?"
Castiel felt his stomach twist at the thought and looked away. There was that too.
"I know how to fix it," Sam said suddenly. "You take care of Cas here, I'll run to the store down the street and grab a few things."
Dean glanced at him but nodded. "Okay, but let me wrap your hands first."
Sam suffered him to wrap his burns and then left the motel, leaving Dean alone to care for Castiel. The elder Winchester turned to him in a businesslike manner.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up as much as possible."
Castiel dutifully followed Dean into the bathroom where Sam had turned on the shower to a good temperature. Not too hot, and not too cold, Castiel found as he stuck his hand under it at Dean's urging.
"It's gonna be a tight fit," Dean said grimly, glancing between Castiel's wings and the shower. At least it was part tub, so Castiel could sit. His legs weren't exactly up to holding his weight for long periods right now.
"Dean, can you…?" he asked, tugging the bottom of his slashed and bloody t-shirt, knowing he wouldn't be able to get it off over his wings.
Dean swiftly opened the med kit and pulled some scissors out, snipping through the fabric to fully open the slits already in the back of the shirt. Castiel let the ruined fabric slid to the floor, and clumsily undid his jeans.
By the time he was in his boxers, Dean had set out the medical supplies and as he turned to give Castiel a hand into the shower his face darkened as he fully saw the damage Crowley had done. The wounds hurt, some of them were deeper than others and would probably need stitches, but Castiel was more grateful for what didn't happen.
"Dammit, Cas, I'm sorry," Dean muttered as Castiel settled into the tub, his knees pulled up to his chest and his wings awkwardly angled to fit. He was sure it looked ridiculous, and he wished he had his personal shower back at Bobby's that Dean had put together for him to take showers during his molting.
But at the moment, he was just glad to be back with his family. Dean's steady presence was the only thing right now keeping the nightmares of Hell away.
"Don't be sorry," he said quietly, glancing up to meet Dean's eyes. "Just know that I am grateful you got there in time."
Dean didn't say anything, simply touched his shoulder almost carefully and then turned to get to work.
Dean grabbed several washcloths, handing one to Cas to start wiping the blood from his face and body while he took the angel's unoccupied hand and carefully dabbed the raw, bloody marks around his wrist from the manacles. Dean's teeth were clenched the whole time, hating that smarmy dick Crowley for chaining Cas up, torturing him like that. As if the angel hadn't already suffered enough.
Cas was already slumping against the wall of the shower, and Dean took up his cloth and continued cleaning his wounds. It was even harder to see the new wounds on top of the old scars from Hell that would never heal since Cas was fallen. The thought that he had only collected more made Dean want to punch a wall—or more preferably Crowley's face.
"Is this it? No internal injuries I should know about?" he asked, dreading the answer.
Cas shook his head. "No. Crowley enjoyed…taking his time. I don't even know how long he had me there with that contraption that would…" The angel shuddered under Dean's careful ministrations and Dean paused, leaning his forearms on the side of the tub as he watched the pink-tinged water flow down the drain.
"You don't have to talk about it," he said. "Just remember you're safe now."
Cas took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes," he said softly.
Dean heard the door to the room open and he felt a sudden moment of adrenaline rush through him before he heard Sam's voice calling out.
"Dean?"
"In here," Dean called back and stood as Sam came into the bathroom with a shopping bag.
"So, I hope this works," Sam said, pulling out a bottle of dish soap and a couple brushes. "This is what they use on birds and animals that get caught in oil spills, so I thought it would work for this too."
"Well, anything will be better than nothing right now," Dean said and grabbed a towel from the shelf above the toilet. "Okay, Cas, let's get you sitting outside the tub so you can rest your wings inside of it, that sound okay?"
Cas nodded and Dean helped him out to sit on a towel on the floor beside the tub, wings draped over the side so that the water from the shower rained on them. Dean reached over and plugged the tub up before looking at the setup with a sigh.
"This is going to turn into a wet t-shirt contest isn't it?" he said, half-jokingly.
Sam snorted with a small smile. "Getting wet will probably be unavoidable."
"Let's do this, then," Dean said and grabbed the bottle of dish soap and squeezed a liberal amount into the water gathered in the tub. He swished his hand around it in to make it foam and then he and Sam each took up a brush.
"Probably the best way is to work the soap into Cas' feathers first," Sam suggested, taking the bottle after pulling the bandages off his hands. "Then we can see how well it's taking the oil out."
"You sure your hands are good?" Dean asked.
"I'm fine," Sam said firmly.
Dean shrugged and stepped over to Cas. "Okay, let us know if we're doing anything that makes you uncomfortable."
"I just want it out of my feathers," Cas said with a weary sigh. "This whole situation is uncomfortable."
Dean shared a look with Sam and they set to work.
They first squeezed some of the dish soap directly onto Cas' wings and then, each brother taking a side, they worked it gently into his feathers with their fingers. This was a common practice for them after all the baths they had given Cas with baby shampoo during his molt. It had been the only thing that had given him relief from the itching. Now though, Dean could feel how sticky and logged down Cas' feathers were from the oil and he could imagine how uncomfortable it was. But the soap did seem to be working, and soon the water in the tub was getting sludgy from it.
"Ready for a deep clean?" Dean asked, taking up the brush.
Cas nodded and Dean and Sam started brushing through the feathers to collect all the excess oil. It sloughed off into the tub, and started to discolor the water. Cas flinched as Dean reached the tip of his wing where one of his primary flight feathers had been burned. Dean hadn't asked but figured it was probably Crowley giving his idea a test run. Dean clenched he jaw as he worked gently around the injured area. He saw that the quill was still there, just charred almost to the point where it met Castiel's skin, and he wondered if they would probably have to pull it.
But they would figure that out later. Right now, Sam's idea seemed to be working and they were nearly done.
Dean got rid of the filthy water in the tub and refilled it with more sudsy water that they poured over Castiel's wings with a cup to make sure they had gotten all the oil out. After that, they pulled the plug and used regular water to rinse his wings completely.
It was a long process, taking well over an hour, and Cas was cramped from sitting on the floor and both Winchesters' backs were cricked from the awkward positions, but by the time they had finished, Cas' wings were clean, and free of the oil.
"Okay, up you come," Dean told him, sitting him on the toilet as he and Sam gently toweled off his wings before taking the in-room blow dryer to them.
After his wings were as dry as they could get them, they helped Cas back out to the main room and sat him on one of the beds so they could finish tending his wounds.
Yes, some did need stitching, but once that was finished, they bandaged Cas up and got him dressed in warm dry clothes and handed him a cup of coffee Sam had brewed while Dean had tended his injuries.
"Did you want anything to eat?" the younger Winchester asked.
Cas shook his head, sitting against the headboard, wings wrapped around himself almost like a blanket. "Maybe later. I'm not very hungry right now."
"Can we get you anything else?" Dean asked him.
Cas shook his head again. "I just want to rest."
Dean was going to say something else, but decided against it. Rest probably was the best thing for Cas right now, though he was worried about the angel falling into a dark mood. He'd made so much progress lately after relearning to fly, that Dean was furious that he'd been captured and tortured again, just when he was starting to really get back on his feet, the nightmares even rarer. Now they would probably come back in full force again due to this new trauma.
"Okay, you rest then. Need anything else?"
Cas shook his head and set his half drunk cup of coffee on the side table as he gingerly slid under the blankets and rolled onto his stomach to rest his wings on top of the blankets so they would finish drying completely. "No, I am fine."
Which was a lie, obviously, but Cas still closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep all the same. Dean watched him for a few seconds before he turned to Sam who had a worried expression on his face.
"You think he's gonna be okay?"
Dean nodded. "Eventually. I'm just tired of all these damn setbacks." He crossed the room to sit at the table with his own cup of coffee. Sam awkwardly picked up his cup with his injured hands, and Dean fell into big brother mode again.
"Here, let me take care of those properly," he said.
Sam sighed, but knew better than to argue. He knew that Dean needed something to fix. Dean was glad he allowed him to do it.
He grabbed the med kit again and found some burn cream in it, which he spread over Sam's palms and then covered them in soft gauze.
"There, don't play with them too much," he said gruffly.
Sam huffed then they both glanced toward Cas who had snuffled and shifted in his sleep. Dean noticed his hands clutched tightly in the pillow and swallowed hard.
"Why don't you try to get some sleep, Sammy. I'll keep an eye on him."
Sam watched Cas for a few more seconds then nodded, unable to stop a yawn from escaping. "Okay. But wake me if you need anything."
Sam climbed into the other bed and Dean stayed at the table. He turned the TV on low and flipped channels for a little while as he watched over his two brothers. He just really wished they could all catch a break. But knowing their lives, that didn't seem to be in the cards for them.
In the meantime, he would watch over them as much as he could.