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When Dean claws his way to consciousness, the first thing he becomes aware of is that he can't move. The second thing he notices is that the muscles in his arms are burning and screaming in pain. It takes his sluggish brain a moment to catch up, and he realises just why he can't move once it does come back online: his wrists are bound tightly and strung up above his head. He suppresses a groan. How many times has he found himself in this position before?
"Really?" he complains to the dark, empty room. "Bit of originality would be nice!"
There's no reply. Letting out the groan he'd kept in, he tries to rest as much weight on his feet as possible in an attempt to take some of the strain off his arms, but whoever bound him knows what they're doing; he's tied just loosely enough that his feet still touch the ground, but not loose enough to give him any extra slack in his arms. His shoulders won't be painfully dislocated but he's not gonna be hanging in luxury either.
He's not sure how long he hangs there for but he's just starting to go nuts from dangling in the dark with nothing to do when lights flick on, causing him to squint as the brightness nearly blinds him.
"Son of a bitch!" he snaps.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about my Father in that manner, Dean," an annoyingly familiar voice says. When Dean's watering eyes have adjusted to the light, he sees that Naomi is standing in front of him with a sweet smile on her face. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost suspect that she's there to rescue him; but he does know better, and it's a little alarming how good she is at acting innocent.
"Right. My bad. How d'you feel about 'Jesus Christ'?"
Naomi's smile widens.
"Joke all you like, Dean, if that brings you comfort. But the way I see it, no amount of joking is going to help you. You're not getting free and even if you did, you wouldn't be leaving here."
Dean raises an eyebrow. He's been in this situation a billion times before, so he's not exactly cowering in fear.
"So, what's the go now?" he says. "Torture? 'Cause I ain't exactly shaking in my boots."
"Of course not!" Naomi's smile widens. "Not now, at least. No, you're going to call Castiel for me and get him to bring the angel tablet. Or I'll kill you."
Dean can't help but roll his eyes.
"Like I said. How original."
Naomi chooses not to grace that with a response. Instead, she slides her hand into his pocket – Dean makes sure to smirk, revelling in the faint hint of disgust that appears on her face – and pulls out his phone, which she unlocks and taps through.
"I know the drill," Dean quips as Naomi finds Castiel's contact details. "Don't give anything away, act as normal as possible, blah blah blah."
He's mildly surprised when Naomi laughs at this.
"Oh, of course not, Dean. The moment you ask him to bring the angel tablet, Castiel will know that I have you. So feel free to be as open as you like. I don't care what you say, so long as you tell him to bring the tablet to the abandoned warehouse on 145 Road. Oh, and please tell him not to bring Sam Winchester, or alert him to this location in any way. I'll feel Sam's presence the minute he appears near here."
"Why, scared of the Dynamic Duo?"
"I'm not scared of two pathetic humans. However, you both have an annoyingly extraordinary habit of succeeding whenever you're together."
Dean grins smugly.
"So what's stopping me from just telling Cas not to come? I ain't gonna tell him to come running into a trap."
"Oh, you will relay your location to Castiel. If you don't, Sam will be joining you."
A sliver of worried rage forms in his stomach, but Dean keeps grinning.
"Really? If you couldn't find Cas till he left, what makes you think you can get to Sammy?"
Naomi favours him with a condescending smile.
"Because Sam won't stay in your little hideout forever. He's rather like you, isn't he? Eventually, he will crack, just as Castiel did; whether it's to buy food, or go on a hunt, or even to come and find you. Either way, he won't stay there for the rest of his life. And once he leaves, I will grab him. And while I won't kill him, because that would only hinder the process of closing the gates of Hell, there's nothing stopping me from torturing him. I just have to keep him alive."
Defeated, the grin slides off Dean's face. He knows he's lost this one; no matter how much he loves Castiel, Sam comes first, and he's not ever going to sacrifice his brother for anybody. He knows that Naomi can tell as well, judging by the smug smile as she presses 'call' and then holds the phone to his ear. He's almost disappointed that he's not being held at weapon point but he supposes it isn't necessary; Castiel's going to come no matter what he says.
The angel picks up on the second ring.
"Dean? Are you okay? You've been gone for two hours."
Dean's stomach flutters at the familiar gravelly voice and he almost can't go through with this, no matter what happens to Sam. But then his 'protect Sam' instincts kick back in and, slumping, he knows he has to do this.
"Uh…she got me, Cas," he says roughly, the words bitter in his mouth. "Naomi. We're in a warehouse on 145 Road. She says to bring the tablet or…yeah, you get the picture. And don't bring Sammy or tell him where we are. I don't want her getting her claws into him too."
There's silence on the other end of the line. Dean gulps, ignoring the pit of nausea beginning to settle inside him.
"Cas? You there?"
"I'm coming, Dean."
Before Dean can get in at least a token 'don't do this, Cas', the line goes dead. Naomi tosses his phone over her shoulder with a smile, ignoring Dean's wince at how it smashes to pieces. He's not particularly attached to that phone over any others he's had, but he hates having to replace them. They're so damn expensive these days.
"Good boy," Naomi says patronisingly. Dean grits his teeth and shoots her a poisonous look, then looks away and resolutely ignores her, praying that Castiel doesn't show up.
It doesn't take long for Dean's prayer to be ignored. He knows the minute that Castiel appears, because Naomi's head whips around to look at the entrance to the warehouse. There's silence for a moment, in which Dean wonders what the hell's going on and if Castiel's trying to pull a fast one, but then the doors slam open, as if by a strong gale. In a scene eerily reminiscent to the first time Dean met him, Castiel strides inside, trench coat billowing around him – only this time, he's got the angel tablet in his arms and on his face is probably the most terrifying expression Dean's ever seen. His eyes zero in on Dean immediately and the angel starts for him, only to be stopped in his tracks by an angel blade appearing at Dean's throat as if by magic.
"Castiel," Naomi greets amiably. Dean tries to avoid looking at Castiel but his eyes are drawn to the enraged angel as if by magic. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, brother."
"No, you're not." Castiel's voice shakes with fury. "You think nothing of using Dean to get to me. Enough with the false civilities, Naomi."
"You misunderstand me. I'm only sorry that you've grown to care so much for one human that you've turned your back on your family. And I'm sorry that I have to keep doing this to you. I'd love nothing more than for you to be the proud, respectable warrior you once were."
Castiel snorts.
"How many times did you tell me that as you brainwashed me for failing to obey? How much of my identity have you stripped away from me? And yet, despite his forthcomings, Dean has never tried to mould me into something I'm not. No matter how many times he's reprimanded me for my choices and told me that I was wrong, he never once forced or brainwashed me to obey him! Is it any wonder that I chose him over you?"
If Dean didn't think that Castiel would be paying for that later, he'd be laughing hard at the murderous look on Naomi's face.
"Enough niceties," she snaps. "Give me the angel tablet. Now. Or Dean dies. And I won't make his death quick."
Castiel's jaw sets. For a moment, Dean thinks he's not going to listen to her; but then the angel stiffly approaches Naomi and holds out the tablet for her. Beaming, Naomi takes it.
"Thank you, Castiel."
"Let Dean go. I've upheld my end of the bargain."
Naomi tuts and taps the blade against Dean's throat. Dean narrowly avoids swallowing nervously.
"Not so fast. Step into the holy oil first."
Dean's stomach drops when he sees a circle of holy oil on the ground, which he's not sure if Naomi made before his capture or after. He shakes his head wildly at Castiel, ignoring how the angel blade slices his neck and creates shallow, stinging cuts that trickle blood down to his collar.
"If I do this," Castiel says slowly. "If I give myself up for Dean…will you let him go?"
Naomi gives him a winning smile.
"Of course, Castiel."
"Don't do it, Cas!" Dean shouts. He's quickly silenced by Naomi digging her blade in harder, nearly choking him. Castiel gives Dean a look of utter despair.
"I'm sorry, Dean. But I love you too much to watch you get hurt on my account."
It's almost ironic, Dean muses darkly, how he was so worried about assholes using Castiel against him…and yet he turns out to be the one being used against Castiel. Though he's long gotten used to the universe's sick sense of humour. Maybe Fate's at it again.
Squaring his shoulders, Castiel steps into the circle of holy oil. Naomi snaps her fingers and it ignites, bringing roaring flames into life around Castiel. Dean's hit with a sudden flashback of hellfire and how it illuminated everyone in the Pit with a hellish glow, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and mumble nonsense to himself to force it away. It's been years since he thought about Hell but he still has the odd, unpleasant flashback or nightmare.
"First, I'm going to cleanse you of this abominable 'love'," Naomi says tightly. "You need guidance, Castiel. You need this negative influence removed from you. Once Dean is dead, I'll let him go."
Castiel moves as if to zap over, but contains himself just in time. Dean nearly winces at how close Castiel had been to catching on fire, with how close he got to the flames.
"You promised!" he shouts wildly. "You promised me, Naomi!"
"I did," Naomi says coolly. "But you never specified that you wanted Dean alive when I free him."
Pain.
Blood.
Someone's yelling.
More pain.
More blood.
"Stop this, Naomi!"
He can't feel his legs.
"I'm begging you! Let him go!"
Is he even alive?
"Stop hurting him!"
Or is he still in Hell? Has he never left, and all of this has just been a dream?
"Please, torture me instead!"
No, it has to be real. There's no way he could have dreamed up someone as amazing as Castiel and convinced himself that the angel loved him back.
"This is for your own good, Castiel!"
He's not sure of just how long Naomi's been taking him apart. The only constant thing has been his burning arms, and even that's starting to feel unreal.
But suddenly, he realises that Naomi's not inflicting any more pain on him; that the pain he's feeling isn't new. Using what little strength he has to raise his head, he sees with swimming vision that Castiel has managed to free himself from the holy fire – by using his trench coat, if him clad in only his suit is any indication, man, what a smart guy he is – and is taking on Naomi, despite having no weapon. Dean absently wonders if Naomi had confiscated his blade, or if he hadn't even bothered to bring one.
Huh. Castiel really loves Dean, then, if he's coming to give himself up without even the illusion of fighting back. What an odd thought, that somebody other than Sam loves Dean so much.
But then Dean can't breathe. With a shriek of rage, Naomi has turned and buried her blade in his gut, and he can't breathe around the agony and the blood that's starting to rise in his throat. He can't even keep his head up, so he can't see how Castiel reacts, but judging by the heated sounds of yelling and swishing fabric and clanging on stone that fills his fuzzy ears, Castiel is Not Impressed.
Mustering up the very last of his strength, Dean forces his head to rise again. Wow. Castiel is more than Not Impressed. He's reacting as if he was Dean and Naomi had just killed Sam. How weird, to be loved that much.
Dean laughs through the blood in his mouth, which dribbles out over his lip and down his chin. He has to get Naomi's attention. He's not sure why but he knows that it's important.
"Hey…" he rasps. "Hey…assbutt."
He doesn't know why he said that but it does the trick: Naomi looks over her shoulder at him, and Castiel takes advantage of that split second of distraction to dive at her, grab her around the neck, pull her body flush to his, and clamp a hand around her wrist. Before Naomi can even struggle, Castiel's driving her blade straight through her chest, in a move that leaves Dean vaguely surprised that Castiel doesn't impale himself as well.
Bright blue light fills his vision. Then the last of his strength leaves him, and he gives in to the blackness that's creeping into his vision from the edges.