CHAPTER 12

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.

Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.

For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.

Ephesians, 6:10-13

THEN

Lawrence, Kansas, September, the 13th, 2013

Dean woke up with the mother of all hangovers. Again. He had spent the night drinking and playing poker with Benny Lafitte. He didn't see Benny much, because the guy was all kinds of screwed up and probably never worked, spending most of his nights – and days – drunk as a skunk.

But getting drunk was Dean's new modus operandi these days.

He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The unwelcome sun light filtered through the gauze curtains, and Dean hid his head under the covers. If he could sleep for a few more minutes…

Unfortunately, Sam started banging on his bedroom door, and the more Dean tried to ignore the noise, the more insistent his brother became. Dean sat up, and fought the pounding in his head and the rebellion inside his stomach. "I'm coming, don't twist your panties!"

He took a few breaths, waiting for the dizziness to stop, and got up slowly, walking to the door with one hand half-covering his eyes. Fuck, Benny had assured him that the whiskey wasn't cheap, but judging from the present hangover, he'd probably made it in his bathtub.

"What?" he said, opening the door and frowning at his brother with only one eye open. "Do you know what time's it, Bitch?"

Sam gave him bitchface #32. "Actually, I do. It's almost nine, Jerk."

Wow. He was really late for work. "Fuck it. Today is Friday and I'm the boss."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You look like shit."

"That's 'cause I feel like shit, Sammy."

"Dean…" Sam sighed, "When will you stop acting like a child?"

"When I fucking want to, 'kay?"

Sam raised his hands in a surrender gesture. "Alright. Listen, um… may I come in?"

Dean stepped aside and made a wide gesture with his arm. "Mi casa, su casa."

Sam stepped inside and sat unceremoniously on Dean's bed. "We need to talk."

"If this will lead to a chick flick moment, I just woke up, and I'm not even conscious enough for this."

"No chick flicks," Sam snorted. "I… um… I wanted to know if you have been at the diner lately."

Dean scowled. "You know I haven't."

"And… you haven't talked to Missouri, either?"

"Nope. Look, Sammy, if this is going to be about Cas, I've already told you, I'm not in the mood to talk about – "

"He's gone, Dean."

Dean stopped speaking, his mouth hanging open. "What?"

"He's gone. Missouri told me an hour ago. Cas is gone since Monday night."

Monday. The last time Dean had seen Cas; also the time he'd told him to get out of his life forever. Apparently, Cas had followed his instructions to the letter.

"Fuck." Dean said, pinching the bridge of his nose, his headache getting even worse. "He just… went away? No goodbyes, not even to Missouri?"

"He wrote her a note, where he specifically asked her not to tell you he was gone."

A flare of anger burned inside Den's heart. "Well," he said, trying for nonchalance but completely failing, "Good for him. He can take care of himself."

"Missouri seemed… worried. Said she contacted his brother, but he hadn't heard of Cas, and he got pretty upset with the news."

In that moment, Dean wanted to tell Sam everything. He wanted, more than anything, to tell his brother that Cas' brother was a freaking Angel, and he could probably find Cas in the blink of an eye. But Sam wouldn't believe him, would he? Because all this shit was crazy, surreal and absurd, and fuck, just thinking about it made Dean's head spin and hurt like hell.

Besides, if Dean said anything about angels and demons, Sam would think he was still drunk.

"Listen, Sammy, I really don't wanna talk about Cas anymore. We're over, so I have nothing to do with whatever the fuck he decides to do with his life."

Sam gave a heavy sigh. "Okay, then," he said, getting up. "I just… thought you should know."

"Thanks a lot, CNN."

Sam shook his head, dismayed. "I'm going to take Jess out. Measurements for her wedding dress."

Dean nodded absently, not really paying attention. There was a buzzing in his head, a noise so loud that it brought tears to his eyes. He barely saw when Sam left his bedroom, because he ran to the bathroom and kneeled on the floor, throwing everything in his stomach in the toilet, until he heaved and nothing else came out.

"Fuck, Cas, you really did what I asked, didn't you? You really went away and I'm never gonna see you again. Stupid son of a bitch."

NOW

Lawrence, Kansas, September the 15th, 2013

Castiel woke up feeling dizzy again. He had no idea if it was day or night, or even which day it was. When you're being tortured, you tend to lose track of time, because you measure it between one torture session and the next, so time seems to pass slower than it really does.

Crowley never got his hands dirty on him, leaving the pleasure of torturing the angel to his lackeys, who actually fought to see who would be the next to brand Castiel's skin with his own angel blade.

He felt out of reality; the angel blade was the only weapon that could kill an angel. Being tortured with it made the wounds impossible to heal. Not that his Grace would heal him anyway. He could feel it inside him, so weak that he couldn't even try to break free.

The pain Castiel felt when the demons carved symbols on his chest was so great that he had the impression that he would collapse like a house of cards, leaving a pile of flesh and bones, that would turn into ashes, and the blowing wind would spread his remains everywhere, so no one would ever know that that dirt used to be an Angel of the Lord.

Castiel was tied to a metal chair. Iron shackles kept his hands back, and the sigils drawn on them made it impossible for him to break free. A collar with inscriptions as old as the world, in his neck, kept what was left of his Grace trapped deep inside him, so he could not use it, even if it miraculously returned. He was trapped and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Morning!" Crowley said brightly, and the angel fought to open his eyes and look at his enemy.

During the torture sessions, while Crowley avidly watched, his face alive with expectation, Castiel had never made a single sound. No whimper, no moaning, not even a heavy breath had left his lips as his flesh was being torn apart. He knew that his behavior frustrated Crowley immensely, and there was a strange pleasure in knowing he was going to die without giving his enemy the victory of seeing him beg.

Also, he had always tried to be awake when Crowley came to see him. "Hello, demon," he spat the word like venom.

"You think that offends me?" Crowley laughed. "I'm proud to be what I am. Care to know why? Because I'm a survivor; a fighter, even. I never settled for the pathetic life I had as a human; I always wanted big things, money, power… I sold my soul, and then I got everything I wanted. And on top of that, I'm practically… eternal."

"Not if I kill you."

"Oh, interesting, interesting… Say, how do you plan to do that? Because from where I'm standing, you look in a bit of a… disadvantage."

"Even if I die, there is still a garrison of angels looking for you!"

"And you think I'm worried? Frankly, Castiel, I thought you knew me by now. They're no match for me. If they could really find me, they already would have. Their attempts are pathetic, even."

Castiel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting another wave of nausea, even if his broken ribs protested.

"Anyway, let's get to the good part," Crowley rubbed his hands together. "Today your torment may come to an end."

"Don't say you re going to let me go," Castiel growled. "Or are you finally going to kill me?"

"Nope. None of the above. I'm bringing a new buddy to play with us."

For a moment, Castiel thought that Crowley had caught Gabriel. But then his heart sank when he realized that, if Crowley's intention was to break him, there was only one person he could bring to this torment.

"If you even touch a hair of his head… "

"You'll what? Frankly, I don't think you're in the position to make threats here."

"if your thinking about imprisoning Dean – "

"Don't have to. He will come with his own legs."

"Dean will never come. He doesn't want to see me."

"Oh, I don't think so. Dean-o brags about being a tough guy, but he has a soft heart, which is convenient, considering he will soon try to play knight-in-a-shining-armor to rescue you. You don't look like a damsel in distress, but it'll do."

"He knows I can take care of myself. He won't come."

"Yes, he will. You know why? Because I sent your trench coat to him yesterday, and if he doesn't come, next time maybe I'll send a piece of you as a souvenir. Maybe an eye?" Crowley smiled. "Dean- o is going to have a big surprise today when he arrives here."

THEN

Lawrence, Kansas, September 14th, 2013

Dean was alone at home. Mom had gone on a – another – date with Dad, and Dean, surprisingly, was okay with that. Kinda. Mom was an adult, and since Dean's love life had turned out to be a huge and messed fucked up supernatural thing, he was in no position to give her any advice. He only hoped she didn't break her heart again.

He was watching TV, but not even Doctor Sexy could distract him. Even if it was Friday night, he wasn't in the mood to go out. He was tired, with a strange, hollow place in his chest with Castiel's name on it. The truth was that he missed the guy/angel/whatever the fuck he was. He missed him like crazy.

He had tried to take him out of his mind – and heart – since that Monday night. He didn't go to the diner, he barely went to work, and no one was allowed to mention Cas to him. But he couldn't have imagined that he would never see him again. He thought that maybe they would pass each other on the street sooner or later, and Dean would turn his head to look at Cas, just a little, and maybe smile, maybe say hi… when all the heartache had stopped poking his chest from the inside, maybe they could find their friendship again.

He had just wanted to make Cas suffer a little – or maybe a lot – for leading him on.

And now he was gone; like Dean had asked him to. He had left, and Missouri had no idea where to. Apparently, neither his brother knew his whereabouts. He imagined Cas sulking somewhere, but he really had no idea what Angels of the freaking Lord did when they got sad.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam arrived with Jess in tow. They looked happy, and Dean felt a pang of envy that he hurried to suffocate.

Jess was holding a box that she put in Dean's lap. "Found this on the front porch. It has your name on it."

The paper was bright red, with a beautiful, silky blue ribbon on top. "Must be from one of my admirers."

"Jess, baby, you mind if I take a quick shower?" Sam asked, putting all the bags he was holding on the floor next to the TV.

"Of course no, hun. You've already done your good deed today. I know those bags are heavy."

"Dude, did you leave something at the store for the other customers?" Dean joked half heartedly.

Sam just gave him bitchface #41, kissed Jess lightly on the lips and went upstairs whistling an old lullaby. What a girl.

Jess sat beside Dean and grabbed the package on his lap. She shook it a little, but the package made no noise. "Open up, Dean! I need new material to tease you!"

"Well, if you give me the damn box, maybe I can!"

She rolled her eyes, amused, and put the box back on his lap. Dean started tearing at the paper because he had no patience when it came to open presents. The box was black, and there was a big red heart on its lid.

But what Dean found inside turned his guts into ice. With trembling hands, he took Cas' trench coat, torn in several places. And there was blood everywhere. Everywhere.

"Oh my God," he whispered, terror invading him so fast that he felt like there was no more air in the room. He couldn't breathe, he was suffocating in the panic and the possibility that Cas could be dead.

Jess had her eyes fixed on the trench coat too, and she seemed to be hypnotized by it. "Castiel… this is Castiel's?" Her voice sounded too acute, scared and small.

Dean could only nod, unable to do anything else but stare at Cas' blood. "I had no idea an angel's blood was red," he said, almost in a trance. Then he saw a paper attached to one of the sleeves.

Jess tore the note from his hands, but before Dean could protest, she started to read aloud. "25913 Chieftain Road Single fam. Lawrence, KS 66044. Come tomorrow night. Ifyou don't, next time I'll send one of his beautiful blue eyes. Come alone, or I'll give you both his eyes in a pretty box. C."

"Oh my God," Dean whispered again, voice trembling at the mere thought of Cas in the hands of the red-eyes demon that plagued Dean's nightmares since that night at the police station.

"Dean…" Jess looked at him apprehensive, as if fearing that he would leave running to save Cas any minute now.

In that moment, Dean realized two very important things. One: angel or not, Cas could die. He could be already dead. And Dean would never be able to live with himself if he turned his back on him now. Two: he loved Cas. He could be a fucking angel, he could be a ghost, a vampire, a werewolf, anything in the world, but Dean loved him. And he wanted him back, even if they would probably start fighting again very soon.

He hadn't forgiven Cas. Yet. In fact, he didn't know if he would ever completely forgive him. But he needed him around, because he loved the stupid son of a bitch – nothing personal, God, please don't take that into account – and he wanted to see him again.

Cas' lie and all the freaking shit about supernatural beings – and Cas was one of them, oh God – seemed so stupid and small, when all Dean could think was: he loved Cas. He loved him. He was probably the love of Dean's fucking life. And if dean didn't go to him, someone was going to kill him.

He didn't know why this was happening, what he, a mere human, had to do with anything, what was his role in the great scheme of things. But he didn't care.

"I need to go," Dean said absently, his fingers caressing a piece of the trench coat not stained with blood. "I need to, because if I don't go, he will – "

"The demon will kill you," Jess said, mouth hanging open. "If you go, you will be walking to your death, Dean."

"Jess?" Alright, what was happening here? Jess was supposed to be completely confused by everything and yet she was staring at Cas' blood as if she fucking knew what was going on. And she had said demon, right? Dean was pretty sure he hadn't said anything about a demon. What the fuck?

"Jess, um… why are you not freaking out?" Dean asked slowly, although his heart was pounding in his chest. He almost feared her answer, because until recently, he thought that supernatural stuff was for books and movies, that angels and demons were things the church had created to keep people in line. But they were real, and if he, who hadn't even started to process all that in his head yet, was freaking out… why wasn't Jess doing the same at all that blood and – she'd said demon, hadn't she?

Her cheeks became very red and she held her breath for a few seconds, looking at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. Finally, she seemed to make a decision. "I need to show you something. Stay here." Then she opened the front door and left.

Dean watched, through the living room's window, with his mouth hanging open. He wanted to go and get Cas, even though it was probably a big mistake, and Jess was making him stay? What the fuck? Cas was in danger! But he kept watching anyway, as she opened her car's trunk and picked up a package, an object wrapped in a dirty cloth.

She came back without saying a single word, and put the bundle on the sofa. "Open it, please."

With trembling hands, Dean did. "I know what this is," he said in awe, holding the angel blade in his hands. He had seen Cas using it when he fought the demons. "How – how come you have Cas' knife?"

"It's not his," she said, with a heavy, sad sigh. "It's mine."

Dean's head jerked up, and as he looked at her, he felt cold running down his spine.

"I'm a fallen angel, Dean."

Dean's reaction surprised even him. He hid his face in his hands and started to laugh. It was a humorless, creepy laugh, but he couldn't help it. "This can't be happening."

"I'm not like Castiel," she went on. "I fell, and I lost all my Grace. He's still an angel, but I'm completely human, and if I didn't tell anyone, it was because… I wanted to leave it in the past and bury it. I feared not being accepted. I'm sorry."

"So Sam doesn't know," Dean said, the cold in his body now appearing in his voice.

Jess just shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

"Do me a favor, Jess. Tell him today. Because if I come back from this shit and you have not told him yet, I will."

"I promise," Jess whispered, pressing her lips.

There were lots of things Dean could have done. He could have prayed to one of Cas' brothers. He could have started to run and throw himself over the first cliff he found. He could have started drinking until he got into an alcoholic coma. But none of these things would give him the chance to see Cas again. None of these would bring Cas back to him, safe, alive.

Dean doubted that, even if he went, he wouldn't have much of a chance, but he had to at least try, because the idea of Cas dying because he had refused to help him was worse than anything he could imagine.

He didn't have much choice. So, he made up his mind.

"Okay," he said. "I have no time to freak out about you now. But if you're telling me the truth – "

"I am!" Jess hurried to say.

"Since you are – or were – an freaking angel, I'm sure you know one or two things about this demon. Now tell me why you're giving me this blade and what do I do now."

NOW

Lawrence, Kansas, September 15th, 2013

Castiel was dreaming. The last torture session had left him drained, so as soon as he was left alone, he slept. Or passed out, it didn't matter anymore, because he was dreaming of Dean.

They were on his kitchen, and Castiel had just baked him an apple pie. Dean was smiling, happy, eating the pie like there was no tomorrow. He looked like a glutton, with his mouth full of food, but the smile he was giving Castiel was so affectionate and sincere, that there wasn't anything more beautiful.

"I love everything about you, Cas, specially your apple pie," Dean said. "Cas? Cas! Cas, wake up!"

Someone was slapping his face lightly. He frowned, wishing the demons would let him in peace. He didn't want the dream to end. But they didn't give up, so Castiel decided to open his eyes. It was difficult, because even that small thing seemed to take too much effort. Slowly, his eyelids heavy, Castiel blinked a few times, until the world came into focus again.

Dean was crouched in front of him, with one hand on his cheek and the other holding an angel blade.

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but choked on his words, his throat dry and aching. "Dean…" he finally managed, "Leave, this… is a t – trap."

"Shhh, Don't speak, Cas. Save your strength," Dean whispered. "I gotta get you out of here."

"No… time. Go, p – please." Castiel closed his eyes again, welcoming the approaching darkness. He was so tired…

"Hey, hey, stay with me, don't sleep, okay?" Dean slapped his face lightly again. "Come on," he said, "Stay still. Gotta cut these things off you."

Dean easily cut the chain and the shackles with the angel blade, along with the ropes that tied him to the chair. Without the ropes holding him in place, Castiel fell forward, leaning against Dean, who put his arms around him, mindful of the cuts and bruises. "Oh, Cas… what have they done to you?"

"You shouldn't have c – come."

"Yes I should."

Cas looked so weak that he couldn't keep his eyes open. "I'm s – sorry I lied t – to you. I wanted to – to spare you this. A – and all I did was… bring you here, right to him." He spoke slowly, and so low that Dean could barely hear what he was saying.

Dean cupped Castiel's face with one hand. "No, Cas, listen, I wanted to come, you hear me? Couldn't leave you here. And I'm sorry too, Cas. I know everything now. I was so fucking stupid…I should have given you a chance to explain, but… it's a lot to take in, right? But I'm taking you home and when you're healed we'll have a long talk about this" Dean held the angel blade firmly, preparing to cut Castiel's restraining collar.

"Dean…" Castiel tried to raise his hand to touch Dean's face, but he had no strength left. "I… I – "

"Shhh, don't talk," Dean said, and if his voice was strained with emotion, there was no one around to see it. "I know, Cas. Me too."

"Ain't this touching?" Crowley said, appearing out of thin air.

"Crowley." Dean said, holding Castiel more firmly against him.

"You know my name…! Bravo, I see you did your homework. Tell me, Dean-o, what are you willing to sacrifice to get your little tree topper here free?"

"Anything," Dean answered without hesitation.

"Dean…" Castiel said, pleading, "No."

"Shhh, it's gonna be okay, Cas."

"Well, Romeo, I suggest you get ready to fight. Because I can see you're really ready for anything. How about we decide the fate of your angel here, just you and me?"

"Just you and me?" Dean asked. "Aren't you going to call your slaves to fight for you?"

Crowley shook his head no. "Just you and me. You have my word. Scout's honor."

"You have no honor, you son of a bitch."

"Oops. You're right. Um…then, why don't we make a deal? You leave the angel there and you and me fight for him. The winner takes the prize home, what do you say?"

Dean put Castiel delicately on the floor and stood up. "Alright."