OK FIRST OFF – BAHRAIN. THAT'S AWESOME. YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME. WOW.
ALSO, IRAN. AND IRAQ. AND WOW. JUST, WOW.
AND I'M JUST SITTING HERE ON THE EACH COAST OF THE USA LIKE, WOW.
JUST WOW. LOVE IS UNIVERSAL.
OK, I'M DONE.
Dean felt the icy concrete against his bare feet and shivered as he worked his knife into his numb fingertips, straining against their zip tie cuffs. A grunt escaped his lips. He'd just gotten his sore ankles out of their bonds by shirking his socks and boots and loosened the knife from his sock, pushing it behind him and sliding down the wall to scramble for it. Now he was working his feet back into his shoes, only halfway, as to disguise most of his escape while he worked open the knife.
His breath misted. It was getting colder. Probably meaning to slow him down. His body's slowing heart rate - as it drew blood flow from his extremities to protect his organs – was making him sluggish. The violent shudders in his arms did not help his progress.
He let out a frustrated breath as his numb fingers fumbled and dropped the knife. He pressed his cheek to the wall as he slid down to try to pick it back up. The agility was quickly leaving his calloused fingers. He'd have to work faster.
Green eyes flashing to the firmly shut door, they searched for any windows, and saw nothing. No one could know, or else he was finished. His head was still fuzzy from being beaten but his mind was sharp as a whip, pushing through the fog with alarm and necessity.
The door handle squeaking froze Dean's heart. He settled back, giving into the pain in his ribs and chest, groaning softly as he bowed his head to take attention from his half- socked feet, which were not well concealed. But the attention would be on his face and his hands, not his boots, as long as he gave the impression of still being bound. He pushed his ankles firmly together.
Gabriel came swaggering through the door, spinning on his heel and looking around with dark satisfaction at the temperature. "You won't last long in here if it keeps dropping like this. Michael's insisted we turn the knob all the way and leave it, but…" He took a broken knob out of his pocket and tossed it into Dean's lap with a swift flick of his wrist. "I got carried away… I wanna be sure you're nice and frosty." He shut the door mostly behind him to trap in the chill. "How ya feelin there, hoss?"
"Peachy keen, dog breath," Dean chuckled, watching the guy come closer. "I could use a space heater or two, but besides that this last hell-circle cold isn't bothering me too much. I'm still damn hot no matter what temperature it is, so you know, I ain't too bad off." He glanced up to see Gabriel staring at him with quiet rage, pulling his collar closer to his neck. "I'm guessing you don't do well in cold yourself."
"Bad circulation," Gabriel said sarcastically, his eyes flashing. "But that's why you're the one strung up to a wall and not me." He paced casually, making a hum of thoughtfulness. His blond hair was neatly combed back, his jawline catching the misty light. "So, what would you like us to do to Cassy first?" He purred. "We could carve him up. Give him a couple scars. Take a finger or two, maybe. Take an ear." His words were plated in apathy. Shuddering purposefully, Gabriel turned to see Dean's face, giving each curl of his mouth a bit of darkness. "When the knife pushes into his pale flesh…" His lips quirked. "I can't wait to see what color your angel bleeds."
"You sadist son of a bitch," Dean whispered, shaking his head like he was trying to get the imagery of them battering his Castiel out of his thoughts. "Is disobeying a fraternity so insulting? What are you, a bunch of hormonal thirteen year old girls?" He met Gabriel's dead eyes. "I mean… aren't there other ways to deal with your Daddy's disappointment in his little cock-loving son?" That earned him a swift kick to the chest. His cracked ribs broke. With a garbled cry of agony, Dean determinedly clung to the knife in his hands behind his back, and bent over halfway. Gabriel knelt beside him, grabbing him by his hair and yanking his head back up, which sent a flare of agony through him.
"You're pretty cocky for a guy with his hands tied." A switchblade appeared in his hand. "I could shorten it for you - a few inches, maybe." Dean cringed at the thought visibly, making his prison guard chuckle. "Look, ball boy," Gabriel said in a low voice. "Let's just say he owed Michael something with this whole fraternity deal - and he tore up the contract, and jumped the band wagon." He studied the surprise and confusion on Dean's face before shrugging. "You don't know everything about Castiel. Not yet. Maybe not ever. So," he rose to his feet, "its best you don't try and work out a problem without all the variables."
Pulling back his steel toe boot, Gabriel swung his foot around Dean and kicked his hands, hard. The blow crushed his fingers. The shock more than the pain made Dean gasp. The knife clattered to the floor. Kicking the knife out of his reach, Gabriel spun his switchblade in his hand and chuckled. "Sit tight, pipsqueak. It'll all be over soon." The door slammed behind him with such finality that it shook loose Dean's arrogance and sent it spiraling into a deep, dark hole, the blood draining from his face.
Pale, shaking, and now with an icy hand gripping his heart, Dean prayed to God that Castiel was somewhere safe. Even if he died here. Even if no one came. Even if Sammy had to bury him. Let both of them be ok, somewhere they didn't have to face these killers.
Rapid footsteps approached through the thick, unruly foliage shrouding the building. "Dean? Dean!" Castiel called hoarsely as he jumped through a hedge and smacked into the structure. He hefted open the heavy metal door to the slaughterhouse and bolted inside. "Dean!" His voice carried, echoing off the long hallways as he pounded concrete and went door to door, pounding his fists on each one as he ran. His dark hair was a mess. His eyes were wild. At each door, there was silence – a soul-sucking silence, one that usually meant the undead were angry you tried to disturb their eternal rest. Breathlessly, Castiel continued to search, condemning himself to silence out of fear of ghosts. Each door he opened swung loudly, banging the walls. His trembling hands slipped here and there but his speed was born out of terror.
Whirling, he left the empty hallway behind. He hadn't turned the first corner before someone grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off the ground. "We knew you'd come," Zachariah seethed.
Dangling, Castiel barked a laugh. "Sorry, I brought my dog - and I left his leash at home," he shot back, as a figure came tearing down the hall behind him with lightning movements.
Its eyes blazed and it moved with inhuman speed. Turning, Zachariah dropped Cas out of shock, and stumbled back. Castiel picked a door and vanished through it, slamming it shut behind him as Samandriel leaped onto Zachariah with a howl. The sloppy noises that followed were… unpleasant. Castiel tried to ignore them, scrunching up his face and forcing his stomach not to turn.
Two knocks on the door, and when he opened it Balthazar pulled him out and they ran passed Samandriel, stumbling over their own two feet in their hurry. They ran with the stench of death riding on their tailcoats.
An hour had passed. Dean had nothing else to put into escaping. His hands were stiff and numb, as were both feet, and the bottom half of his legs. His ass was an ice block. Shifting, he groaned as he lay down on one side, sending blood flow to his legs. His cheek pressed against the freezing floor. Glancing up, his breath ragged, he watched hazily as the mist of his breath floated up and slowly faded into the air. There was no way for him to move around to keep warm. All he could do was lie here and count his every heartbeat until his body decided it was too much and gave up. He felt two broken ribs, and felt blossoming bruises on his torso; it was the little that he could still feel. Even now, his body was lulling him to sleep as it tried to ease the process along until it was only his organs running.
At least he couldn't feel his arms or legs. Both had been throbbing with pain for a long time now. It was such a comforting feeling, though, dying in your dreams. No blood, no knives, no gunshots. Just memories and death. Dean heaved a sigh and shut his eyes.
"I think it's this one," Balthazar muttered, glancing around before rapidly lock-picking a door he had spotted. It was pretty remote, and a large part of the facility may lay beyond – they needed to broaden their search for Dean. From his knowledge they'd locked him in a freezer portion of the building used for mass cutting procedures. Lines and lines of death. Balthazar was grim but determined as he fumbled with the lock.
"The truck was soaked with rain," Castiel whispered into his phone as he came down the hall behind Balthazar. "I don't think he's got long if they've locked him in there, Sam."
"Stop saying that!" Sam snapped over the line, making Cas jump. "You'll find him. Just hurry. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Balthazar popped the lock and threw the door open, and Castiel ran in after him. "We will, Sam," Castiel said shakily as he sprinted after his ally. "We'll be waiting."
He hung up, feet pounding the ground as Balthazar came to a sharp stop. Hands grabbed him and held him back from spiraling to the floor, and Balthazar clung to him tightly, holding his breath. Both of them froze. They could hear people talking down the hall.
Creeping closer, backs to the wall, Balthazar kept a good grip on Castiel's collar as they neared a large room. Whoever was inside that room was sitting on the far end. The voices became more audible. They began to pick out people, and exchanged feverish glances.
"Will he last long enough for us to lure Cas in?" Raphael questioned. He sounded tired, and the shuffle of an ice pack made it clear he was nursing wounds. That was one advantage they held.
"He doesn't need to," Gabriel answered. "Castiel will come anyway. And he'll be easier to manage once news hits him that his hubby is dead."
Castiel shuddered in Balthazar's arms, and was shaken to make him stop. "Get yourself together," Balthazar whispered, "we still have time."
"Besides, that guy was trouble. He's the reason we lost Cas in the first place." Gabriel was pacing the floor in agitation. "They'll be here soon. Where's Michael?"
Castiel was trembling from head to foot. Why did this happen to him? Why did everyone he needed get hurt, or leave him? He couldn't stand it anymore. He had to go now, and get Dean, before his heart froze. He was about to lurch out of Balthazar's arms when a mild explosion rocked the building. The figures in the room they couldn't see jumped to their feet and shuffled around.
"What was that?" Raphael demanded.
"Let's go kill whoever it is," Gabriel replied, and their footsteps broke into runs towards them.
Balthazar pushed Cas against the corner of the wall jutting out to conceal the room and covered him with his body. The three men ran by, one by one, until their footsteps were fading down the hall behind them.
"Go Sam," Balthazar whispered as he pulled away. "That was damn close." Castiel lead the sprint into the room, and both of them flew to the big door marker 'FREEZER,' yanking it open so the tidal wave of cold hit them like a train.