Dean had told him to wait in the car. Wait for what? Bound, lying, again, on the floor of the car, Castiel could not see what was happening outside. Dean said they were hunting. Killing again. A serial killer. Castiel wondered if the man was dead yet. And if he was, what did that mean? Death, surely. When Dean and Sam returned, it would be to kill him.

But perhaps his fate wasn't set in stone. He could see, glimmering in the light that came through the windows, the edge of a cellphone. He knew the Winchesters kept several phones apiece and this one was lying under the passenger seat, inches from Castiel's nose. His hands were bound. He could not reach it that way. He thought hard. What would the hero in a book do right now? They always got out alive, always found a way where there seemed to be none. He squinted at the phone. It was so close to him…

He had an idea. It wasn't glamorous but it would do. Carefully, he scooted closer to the seat, until the leather upholstery was pressed tight against his forehead. Then he stuck out his tongue, trying not to think of the dirt of ages accumulated under the seat as he brushed the floor before finally tasting plastic. With some little effort he got it into his mouth, with a little more, he scooted back again and spit it out. If Sam and Dean came back now he was dead meat. Dean would put a bullet in his brain faster than he could think.

Dialing the phone was a whole new level of hard, trying to hit the right buttons with his tongue. He managed it some how, and lifted his head to pin the phone beneath his ear.

It rang only once.

"Hello, 9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

Another human voice! It was almost too much for him to bear. "He-hello?" His voice was thick with thirst and fear, "I-I need help. I've been kidnapped. I don't have much time. I- I think they're going to kill me."

"Calm down sir, it's going to be okay. What's your name?" The operator, a woman, sounded earnest and concerned.

"Cas-Castiel. Castiel Novak."

"Do you know where you are, Castiel?"

"No. Somewhere in Nebraska I think. I'm tied up in a car. I can't see out. Can you find me?"

"Yes. Don't worry sir, we'll find you, I promise. Just stay on the line a little longer and we can track the signal."

"Alright."

"How long have you been kidnapped Castiel?"

"Four days, I think. Maybe five."

"Just hang on for a little longer, alright? We'll find you. How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." He paused. There were voices outside, coming closer. "I have to go," he hissed into the phone, "they're coming! If they see me with a phone they'll kill me."

"Alright, okay, Castiel. Hang up. But don't worry, we'll find you. I promise."

Castiel hung up. It felt a bit like throwing back a lifeline when he was drowning but he had no other choice. He did his best to nudge the phone back under the seat but stopped abruptly as the door was flung open.

"What a sick fuck!" Dean said, pulling Cas back up to the seat. "I mean, people say a lot of bad shit about us but we ain't never done anything as fucked up as that Jesus!"

"Quiet down, Dean," Sam urged his older brother.

"No but seriously. The police should be rewarding us for taking him out."

"Should but they won't. Now come on, where are we going?"

Dean shrugged. "Out into the woods a bit? Somewhere where no one'll hear us."

"Sounds like a plan, come on," said Sam.

Dean came around to the front and started up the car. Castiel decided if ever he was just going to try begging, now was the time.

"Please don't kill me." It was almost a whisper.

Dean chuckled. "You know we don't have a choice."

"You do. You do have a choice, please, please don't kill me! I'm not a monster like the people you hunt, I've never broken the law, I swear!" He was crying again, tears mingling with the dried blood and dirt on his face.

"Oh Cassie," Dean sighed, "Come on. You've been so good. I'll feel bad to have to end it, but it's what we gotta do. I can't drag you around forever."

"Dean please, I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

"You think anyone wants to die? Look, Cassie, much as I wish I could keep you around forever, that's just not in the cards. I mean, your fate was sealed the moment you hopped in that gas station bathroom with me."

"Dean," Sam cut in, "Dean, we need to stop for gas. We're running on empty."

As they pulled into the parking lot of a nearby gas station, Castiel felt more than a little guilty for calling the police. What if Dean got caught? It would all be his fault. He couldn't bear the thought.

"Shit," Said Sam, "I need to run in."

"Why?"

"We can't pay with a card. I gotta go in there and beak a hundred."

Dean shrugged. Alone in the car with Castiel, letting the car idle beside the pump, he was quiet for a long time.

"Dean," Castiel pleaded, "I'm begging you-"

"Cas, don't."

"You know I'm good, I always do as I'm told. I'll help you if you want, I'll kill people too, just… just please don't kill me!" He wasn't a hero, he just wanted to live, no matter the cost he just wanted to live.

Dean turned to face him, the light of the gas station convenience store lending a soft, artificial glow to his face. He looked like an angel, an angel of death perhaps, or a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless. With rough fingers, Dean reached out, and touched Castiel's cheek. His touch was warm through the crust of dried blood.

"I'm sorry Cas, I guess I did fuck you up pretty bad. Don't tell him, but Sam was right. I never shoulda' done this to you. Now it's too late, we gotta do what we gotta do, and you've gotta die. That's all there is to it."

Castiel just shook his head. It couldn't end like this, it couldn't.

Dean looked up and took his hand away. "Oh shit!"

"What is it?"

"It's Sam," Dean's brow furrowed. "Wait here. No, if he's in real trouble… shit!"

Castiel tried to get a good look out the window, there was Sam, hood up as it had been before, in an attempt to hide his face, but there was no mistaking that behemoth frame. He was backing up and another figure, that of the cashier, seemed to be holding him at bay. He was armed and looked angry. But there was no time to take in the scene for Dean had grabbed him by the collar and was dragging him out of the car.

"Time to be a hostage, Cassie. Try to look scared."

Castiel didn't have to try. Dean shoved his way into the convenience store and in between Sam and his attacker.

"Dean!" Sam looked aghast, "What the hell? I was doing fine!"

"Didn't look like it," said Dean.

"Stay back!" The cashier, a young, chubby man with fear-flushed cheeks, brandished a handgun, "I'm armed!"

"Join the club kid," said Dean, simultaneously pulling Castiel closer and withdrawing his own gun. "And since we're here anyway, why don't we call this a robbery. Hand over what's in the register, kiddo." The way Dean filled the room with his presence was awe-inspiring. It made Castiel's blood run cold.

"B-but I'll shoot you. I have a gun. You can't rob me, I won't let you."

"Shoot me and you'll hit this poor sonofabitch." He jerked Castiel further in front of him. For a split second, the captive and the cashier made eye contact. It was brief and sympathetic.

The kid lowered his gun.

"Good, good. See Sammy, this is how it's done." Dean strode forward, or strode as best he could with an ungainly and slightly limp Castiel in front of him. He snatched the gun out of the kid's hand and tossed it to Sam. "Now, open the register for me, then get on the ground and put your hands behind your head."

Everything went as Dean commanded it and all seemed to go smoothly. Dean had abandoned Castiel in Sam's clutches and was stuffing wads of bills into a plastic bag when they all heard the sound of not too distant sirens. Both Winchesters froze.

Then, "Did you call the police?" Dean hissed through his teeth. It took Castiel a moment to realize he was talking to the cowering cashier. He swallowed the lump of fear and guilt that had become lodged in his throat.

"Y-yes." The man admitted in a whisper.

"Then there's no reason I can't just do this." Dean struck the other man hard over the head with the butt of his gun. He fell forward, unconscious, and Dean kicked him one more time for good measure.

Castiel could feel Sam shaking. The younger Winchester's hands gripped at Castiel for dear life.

"Let's get out of here ASAP," said Dean.

"We can't," Sam murmured, "we don't have enough gas."

"Shit! Fuck!" Dean spat, throwing his arms up in frustration. "So what then? Wait around 'till the cops show up?"

"We'll figure something out. We can take his." Sam pointed toward the unconscious cashier.

"I'm not leaving baby!" Dean insisted.

"We don't have a choice, Dean!"

Dean growled through gritted teeth. "Fine, fine. Pat him down. Find his keys, quickly. I guess we needed to change cars sooner or later."

"Here, take Cas." Sam shoved Castiel over to Dean, who grabbed him and held him at arms length.

Sam knelt down and started searching through the unconscious man's pockets. The sirens were very close now, lights beginning to become visible in the distance.

"Damn it! Damn it! We're not gonna make it out in time!"

"We can. I'm sure we can. Jus give me a sec-"

But the first cars were pulling up outside. Dean moved quickly to barricade the door, momentarily flinging Castiel aside. "Shit, shit, shit!"

A minute later, he was holding Castiel again, holding him very close indeed. His body was warm against the captive's.

"Don't move a muscle Cassie, you're my meat shield." Dean was pulling the two of them back toward the check out desk, where Sam was crouching, clutching his gun. A loud, garbled voice rang through the little shop.

"This is the police! Come out with your hands on your head. This is your only warning."

"Fuck you!" Dean shouted over the counter.

"Dean, no!" Hissed Sam.

"Well, I'm not getting arrested."

"Show them Cas."

Dean did. He pulled Castiel up with him, holding the gin right against his forehead. Castiel was not scared. Well, he was, but not scared that Dean would shoot him. Dean wouldn't hurt him, not really.

"Keep looking for the keys," Dean said, almost calmly, "SWAT team's probably on the way. I've got a plan but you need to have the keys."

The policeman with the megaphone was saying more, but Castiel wasn't listening. His whole attention was focused on the little red dots that danced on the floor in front of him. They shouldn't be able to hit Dean, not if he stayed where he was.

"Watch the back door, that's probably where they'll come in. Be ready. Don't get shot."

"I'm ready, Dean. Are y-" but that was when –almost simultaneously- the door burst down, and the room exploded with light and smoke. Shadowy figures were suddenly filling the room, Sam had disappeared and Dean had let his captive go a little. Chaos had broken out, but all Castiel could think was stay with Dean. Stay with Dean. Little red dots cut through the smoke like demon's eyes, searching for prey. Castiel was useless, his hands still tied. He tried to keep close to Dean, who maintained a loose grip on him, dragging him somewhere, he didn't know where.

Something caught his eye, a pinprick of red, terrifying and incriminating. It moved cautiously, insidiously, over Dean's belly. There was no time. The moment of hesitation then, as if it was taking a deep breath before it struck, was all Castiel needed to make his decision.

"Dean no!" He cried, pulling away from the other man and moving n front of him. He didn't think, didn't even breath. He just dove. There was a bang that was at once lost in the commotion, and the most important sound in the world. This followed by a sudden burning pain in his stomach.

"Cas, what the-" Dean's voice seemed to come from a long way off as the world fell away to nothingness.