A/N: Thanks to my guest reviewer, but oh no don't hate Sam and Dean! Even though I hate how they treat Cas sometimes, they DO care about him, so once they realize how they're acting, they'll do everything they can to stop and make up for it. And when the chips are down, they'll take care of him :)

Ok, to catch you up: this chapter begins immediately after the first scene in chapter 1, so we pick up where Cas left off that part of the story, with Crowley. Again, I needed Crowley as a villain, so if he seems a little out of character evil, it's because he is! Sorry, Crowley. :P

But on that note, this is where the whump starts, but only a teensy little bit is anything actually physical. So no warnings for blood or gore! Crowley's taking a different approach...

"Angel, if you only knew the tortures I have in store for you."

Crowley's hand pressing Castiel's head down made the angel's shoulders ache horribly, with his wrists bound behind him and pulled high into the air, secured to the stone pillar in the throne room of Hell. Even once the demon let go, relieving some of the pressure, he was still stuck in an uncomfortable forward bow. Castiel could only grit his teeth and glare up at the King of Hell. He wouldn't give Crowley the satisfaction of appearing intimidated or frightened, even in the face of torture.

Crowley smirked. "Breaking you is going to be a delight. Oh yes, the physical torture will be satisfying… but with how superior you cloud-hoppers find yourselves, it's your pride I can't wait to beat down."

Hence this infuriating position, Castiel noted again with frustration. But still, he could not let the demon win.

"Talk about pride," Dean snapped, also scowling at Crowley, "Or ego, in your case. You really just love to hear yourself talk, don't you?"

"You know, I can't thank you enough for showing up as well, Dean," Crowley returned mildly, gesturing towards a waiting demon. "I only wanted Cas, but you really are the unexpected icing on the cake. Taming the angel would have taken forever, otherwise."

"Leave him out of this," Castiel immediately growled, struggling against the chains as a demon came forward to stuff a strip of cloth into Dean's mouth, tying it off behind his head to gag him. Though Dean made it as difficult as possible, he was soon silenced.

Crowley only smiled with ominous satisfaction. "Now, then. Avert your eyes from me, angel."

Castiel frowned. Was the demon joking? He glared resolutely at his enemy despite the crick in his neck.

"I said… avert your eyes," Crowley demanded. "You belong to me now and you will keep your eyes down with every ounce of humility you can muster."

Dean snarled something into the gag, but Castiel nearly laughed. "You can't be serious. I don't 'belong' to you. And if you think you can torture me any worse than I've already been-"

"Giselle, darling," Crowley interrupted him, speaking to the demon in charge who had brought them there. "Do fetch that poker, will you?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. If he couldn't handle being prodded with sharp objects, he would have broken long ago. He watched coolly as the female demon hurried forward with a wicked grin, brandishing a long iron rod. The end of it glowed red-hot with the embers of Hellfire, evil and unforgiving. The angel hid his uncertainty, but the façade fell into open horror when the demon shoved it not towards him, but Dean.

"Crowley-"

"Alright, Giselle, we're going to play a game," Crowley said with a smug expression. "Watch the angel carefully. If he even once lifts his eyes… take one of Dean's."

"What? No!" Castiel gasped, as Dean frantically tried to jerk away. The burning poker hovered in front of the human's face, reflecting in his horrified gaze.

"Let's see some humility, Castiel," Crowley suggested, motioning for the other demons to come closer until they stood in a watchful circle. Of course he would want them to witness his ability to "tame" an angel.

With all eyes zeroing in, and knowing Crowley would make good on his threat, Castiel gave him one final, baleful glower before stonily turning his gaze to the floor.

"It changes nothing," he snapped as his face heated with anger. "I will still see you dead."

"Mm-hmm. Giselle, darling, another game… if the angel speaks unless commanded to do so, shove that poker into Dean's mouth and burn out his tongue."

NO! Castiel didn't dare make a sound, but he lunged forward against his bonds with silent outrage. He could go nowhere, furious moisture pricking the corners of his eyes at his helplessness when the other demons snickered. He shouldn't have allowed Dean to accompany him here, damn it!

Crowley's shiny dress shoes stepped closer into Castiel's line of sight, as the demon chuckled softly.

"So be a good boy, eh?"

Fuming, wary of answering with Dean's safety in such a precarious position, Castiel glared at the floor. The hunter was trying to say something, but the furious sounds couldn't make it past the gag. Castiel wished he would stay silent, to not draw attention to himself.

"Now," Crowley exclaimed, clapping his hands in obvious delight at the angel's predicament, "since I've already gotten you to behave so obediently, and my, that was fast, let's see if you know your place yet. Who am I?"

"The next demon on my list," Castiel seethed.

"Ah, exactly what I would expect from you, but not the right answer. Giselle, give Dean a few good marks with that, would you?"

"No!" Castiel shouted, struggling harder. "Crowley, don't-"

A fierce hand gripped his hair, voice menacing as Crowley hissed, "You're speaking out of turn, angel. Do you want Dean to take the punishment?"

It took all of Castiel's effort to calm down, knowing he was endangering his friend by remaining rebellious. Taking a deep breath, he growled, "No."

"No… Your Majesty."

"No, Your… Majesty."

"Ooo, I do like that," Crowley murmured as the surrounding demons snickered again. "But we can do better. How about… Master?"

Castiel's mouth clamped shut, chest heaving with rage at the demon's audacity. He should have expected this from Crowley, but to lower himself that much… Still, they were only words.

Crowley's grip tightened. "Let's get real, Castiel. Maybe you wouldn't say it to save yourself, but we both know there's not a thing you wouldn't do to protect Dean Winchester. You'll degrade yourself, happily, to save his life. So… I asked if you wanted Dean to take the punishment."

How it burned, with all eyes on the angel whose only viable option was to keep his head bowed and growl, "…No…" Damn it. "Master."

Castiel felt the hand in his hair release, then the demon took a few steps back. Still, Castiel didn't raise his eyes. He could only imagine the words Dean was currently using, had he not been gagged.

"I know you don't mean it," Crowley assured Castiel, ignoring the hunter. "Not yet. But you will. I'm going to strip that pride away until you have nothing left, until you're just my prized angel pet."

Castiel jerked against his bonds, but didn't speak or lift his head. Crowley chuckled.

"Defiance. How… Castiel of you. Giselle, I think he understands the risk to darling Dean. Why don't you give my pet angel a little taste of what Dean will suffer, should he get too bold?"

There was no time to prepare as the heated poker was thrust towards his face and pressed into his cheek. Despite his determination to offer Crowley as little satisfaction as possible, Castiel couldn't fully bite back the tortured sounds that ripped from his throat as Hellfire seared his flesh and his true form. He tried to yank away, but in this position he had no avenue of escape from the cruel brand burning his face. Castiel's vision exploded into white-hot bursts of agony, overwhelming even his senses.

Then, it was gone. Castiel hung forward in the chains, heaving and shuddering with pain.

"Do shut up, Squirrel," Crowley advised, when the human continued to shout furiously into the rag. "Castiel, I haven't touched him yet. Maybe you want to keep it that way, or maybe your pride is worth more to you than he is. Let's find out, shall we? Who am I?"

Castiel's cheeks grew hot, but not just from the poker he'd been marked with. They were just words. Swallowing back his self-respect and his pain, he muttered towards the floor, "My… master."

"And you are?"

The angel who's going to wipe the floor of Hell with your face, Castiel thought with a livid shudder. Forgetting himself, he started to tilt his head up to fix his furious glare on Crowley.

"Ah, ah! Eyes down, look humble," the demon snapped, waiting until Castiel had done so before he finished, "Answer the question. I'll give you a hint… The correct answer is, 'your pet angel'. Although I would also accept 'your humble slave'."

Just words. Though each syllable tasted like poison, Castiel thought of Dean and ground out, "Your… pet… angel."

"Good boy. Ah, one more thing, pet."

With his gaze on the floor, Castiel couldn't see what was happening, but heard another demon hurrying towards Crowley, and then Dean leveling more muffled curses at them. So, nothing good. The angel braced himself as Crowley squatted down in front of him, holding something out.

Seeing what the demon had procured, Castiel felt his face flush scarlet with fury and mortification at this new element in Crowley's power play.

"My pet angel needs a collar," Crowley explained cheerfully. "Do you want to wear this? Oh, and… obviously… the correct answer is 'yes, Master'."

There was an excited murmuring and a few titters from the surrounding demons, which somehow made the situation all the worse. Castiel eyed the collar—metal, with spikes protruding outwards—and imagined using it to gouge out Crowley's eyeballs like he was threatening to do to Dean.

Continuing to keep his head bowed, Castiel set his jaw and muttered, "…Yes."

"Yes, Master."

"…Yes, Master." And then he would have a ready weapon if Crowley got too close.

"Excellent."

Crowley's hands were rough as he fastened the hinged collar around Castiel's neck, the circle tight enough that it made breathing more uncomfortable. There was a hook in the front where a chain could be fixed, but there was no need to add the accessory, trussed as he was.

With the collar padlocked in place, Crowley stood, but didn't back away.

"Oh, Castiel," he murmured. "Servility really does look good on you."

He waited, but Castiel didn't rise to the bait, regardless of his overwhelming desire to fight back. Or to sink into the floor. When he didn't respond, Crowley went on,

"We'll be having visitors soon. Several high-level demons for a series of important meetings. I'm quite eager to show off my new trophies… should make for quite a showing. And you, Castiel, will do anything and everything I command, and in return, I'll make sure Dean stays off the rack. For now."

Beside Castiel, Dean stiffened with a sharp inhale. No matter what, the angel could not allow him to be returned to that torture; his own pride was nothing in comparison, though he realized with dismay that Crowley would milk the opportunity to demean and humiliate him as much as possible in front of the visiting delegations. But… Castiel would bear it, to buy Dean's safety.

"Now remember, not another sound unless I've given you permission to speak."

The shoes retreated, but Castiel still didn't dare look up, not when the human hung right next to him with the evil poker still poised to take an eye. Dean would be furious that he'd permitted Crowley to use him against Castiel, but the alternative was unthinkable.

Unable to move or speak, not daring to look around, Castiel could only hunch forward in his bonds, and wait.

…

Castiel paused, already unsure if he should have shared so many of the details of his captivity. To be gawked at like a zoo exhibit while he was helpless to protect himself or Dean, to be forced to refer to Crowley as his master—especially as a performance for the visiting upper-level demons—Castiel would almost prefer the more overt tortures of his kin. And he'd given in so easily. What… what would Meg think? She'd seen Crowley's set-up, of course, but to hear the story now… maybe he shouldn't have told her what had happened.

Meg had fallen still, tense in his arms, but she pulled away from him suddenly. For a moment, Castiel's heart clenched, but then she was struggling to sit up so that she could twist more fully towards him. Meg's eyes burned with a cold, dark light as she caught either side of Castiel's face in her hands.

"Good thing I was already planning on killing him," she said, normally even voice now taut with anger as she tilted Cas's head with a surprisingly ginger touch. Her eyes narrowed on the burn still evident on his cheek—Hellfire was not so quickly healed.

"It could have been much worse," he pointed out, comforting her with a smile. "And Dean was spared, that's what matters. I'm no worse for wear."

Meg snorted, then suddenly shifted around even more so that the blanket was pushed aside. She swung a leg over Castiel, straddling his lap and leaning in.

"Crowley is going to die," she purred, brushing her lips against the mark on his cheek. He couldn't help but jolt with a soft inhale—not from pain, but from surprise at the pleasant, simmering heat of her skin. "But you should know, when I tie you up, I'm gonna treat you so… so much better."

Castiel cleared his throat, glancing at the ceiling. "I- I'm not sure you're up to something so… physical. You're still healing…"

A puff of breath from her soft laugh ghosted over the now heated mark. Meg straightened up again, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"That's your only protest? I was just teasing you, but now I'm starting to think more seriously about it. Out of curiosity, how much exactly did the pizza man teach you?"

This really wasn't the right time for that, so Castiel merely ducked his head, feeling his cheeks flush, and guided her off of his lap. She snickered again, as always seeming to delight in leaving him pleasantly flustered. Meg scooted back down to lie next to Castiel.

"Now I'm wishing I'd gotten there sooner, though," she murmured as one hand found Castiel's and traced fiery patterns over his palm. "Me and Sam figured something had gone wrong…"

…

If Sam didn't sit still for two minutes, Meg was going to cut his legs off. Bad enough that Cas and Dean had insisted on this rescue mission in spite of every sign that it was a trap, but now she had to deal with Sam's nerves and angst on top of it.

"Okay, it's getting old, Sammy," she said coolly, leveling a glare his direction.

The enormous Winchester just glared back at her and strode another circuit around the clearing. "It's been over an hour," he snapped. "Which is even longer in Hell."

"Oh, good thing you were here to tell me that," Meg retorted. She rolled her eyes. "I mean, I only lived there. You know… being a demon and all."

"If you're just going to make smart remarks, I could let you wait in the dungeon!"

Meg frowned but didn't point out that he'd brought the remark on himself. She leaned back against the tree, wondering if there was any means of contacting Cas. She wasn't exactly the praying type, and doubted it would reach him in Hell anyway. But what if he needed help and she was just sitting on her ass?

"You know," Sam went on, suddenly spinning towards her with a narrowed gaze, "it's funny how this happened right after you showed up."

Tilting her unimpressed glare his direction, Meg shot back, "Yeah. Hilarious. What's funnier is you thinking that after everything, I would give him to Crowley now. Seems like if I wanted Cas dead, I've had plenty of chances before this, wouldn't you say?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair with a soft curse, then dropped down to the leafy floor to lean back against a tree. He closed his eyes, seeming to take a great deal of effort to get a hold of himself.

"Sorry," he muttered. "You're right."

"Apology accepted."

They fell into silence for a moment, Meg continuing to regard the Winchester. "You know," she added, "you should be nicer to him."

Sam opened his eyes to frown at her. "Who? Cas? Look, no matter what you think, we actually do care about him."

Meg snorted, then crossed her arms. "Yeah, in your own way, you really do. But sometimes, you still kinda suck at it. Case in point… you're all hot and bothered over big brother and surrogate daddy being in Hell. But you didn't blink an eye at sending Cas into the lion's den."

"So you think I wouldn't be just as bothered if it was only Cas in danger?" Sam demanded.

Again, Meg just leveled an icy look in his direction. "Well, you weren't."

The hunter stared at her like he'd been hit in the face, which was extremely gratifying.

Meg shook her head and looked away. "You left him," she said. "With nothing but a demon for protection. And yeah, I get it, you had to go save the world and he would have slowed you down. You don't have to explain. But don't tell me for one second that you wouldn't have dragged Dean behind you every step of the way, if it'd been him. He asked for you, Sam. Until I was sick of hearing it. Every five minutes, he wondered where you were, and if you were still friends, and whether you were mad at him, or how he could win you back. You know the one thing he didn't ask, ever?"

Waiting until he'd caught her eyes, Meg finished, "Why you left. As far as he was concerned, he deserved to be turned away by yet another family. And you did nothing to change his mind, so don't even try it, Sam. I've seen you bothered. And that wasn't it."

He had the decency to look guilty, at least, but there was still a shade of denial in Sam's glower as he snapped, "Cas is my friend."

"Yeah, yeah. I know you think of Cas as a friend, Sam, but you sure as hell don't think of him as an angel. Unless you need something, of course."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Well, as long as she was unloading… Meg smiled grimly. "You know what your problem is? You're human. You don't see him the way I do."

"What-"

"Literally. His vessel, dumbass. When you look at Cas, all you see is his meatsuit. I see the real Cas, feathered Cas. An angel, his true form, in all its glory. You don't treat him like an angel, because all you see is the vessel, and you forget. If you could see him, just for a second, the way I do?" Meg scoffed and shook her head. "Trust me, you'd remember that he deserves more respect."

Another silence followed her outburst. When she looked back at Sam, the human seemed to have actually taken notice of her words, judging by his expression. But then, Sam always had been the less pig-headed of the two.

Finally, the hunter sighed. "I wish…" He trailed off, and Meg never did figure out what he wished.

At least he was sitting still now, but in the vacuum of energy, Meg was all the more aware of every passing second where her angel champion remained stubbornly absent. What could be taking so long? Either they were having difficulties finding Bobby, or… She didn't want to think that Crowley might have caught them after all.

Sam was right, though, there was a time conversion. By now, it was approaching a full day in Hell.

"Right," Meg said, pulling herself to her feet. "I've waited long enough."

Sam's head jerked up. "What-? Meg!"

"They should have been back by now. I'm just gonna poke my head in, see what's going on. If Crowley has an angel and a Winchester, it'll be all anyone is talking about."

Scrambling upright, Sam demanded, "Can you even get us inside?"

Meg paused. "Us?"

"That's my family in there," Sam snapped as he hurried closer to her as though she was about to do the angel thing of just flying downstairs. "If you're going, I am, too."

A refusal was on the tip of Meg's tongue, just on principal, but common sense won out. If she was going to Hell to rescue Cas and Dean, and maybe Bobby Singer, she was going to need help. She eyed the hunter, but his face was set with determination.

"Demons can't come and go that easy," she finally said. "Cas can fly right in, but we'll have to use a Gate."

"Great," Sam sighed. "I don't suppose you know of any."

Meg smirked and crossed her arms. "As a matter of fact, I do."