Chapter 6

Castiel woke groggily to the scent of pine and wet leaves. Golden shafts of light trickled through the green canopy above his head, and birds flitted throughout the branches. He shifted, only to bite back a groan as pain lanced through his stomach.

"Dad?" Amy's face appeared over him, eyes wide and searching worriedly.

He pressed a shaky hand to his wound. His grace was sputtering around it, trying to heal the damage, but the bullet was still inside him, its celestial alloy blocking his powers.

"I'm here," he said hoarsely, and angled his head up at his daughter. He frowned as he took in her pale pallor and flushed cheeks. Alarm zinged through him. "Are you all right?" Castiel tried to sit up, but failed, and slumped back against the tree at his back.

Amy's breaths were somewhat short, but he didn't remember her getting injured. She bit her lip before responding. "I got hit with a dart. I don't know what was in it, but I've been feeling sick all night."

Castiel's mind was awhirl taking that in, and he instinctively reached out to touch her forehead. But he couldn't heal himself, and therefore couldn't hope to ease her pain. He also couldn't even tell what poison it was that would possibly have an effect on her.

"It is slowly wearing off," she added.

Well, that was good. Wait, all night? A quick glance up at the sky again revealed it was much earlier than when they'd arrived at the farmhouse, meaning they'd been out in the woods overnight, with Castiel unconscious and unable to protect his daughter.

This time he managed to force himself into an upright position with upbraiding resolve. Those men would likely come after them, if they weren't out looking already. They needed to keep moving.

But a spasm in his gut reminded Castiel that wasn't doable with his current injury.

"I tried to heal it," Amy spoke up, voice cracking. "But it didn't work."

"It's okay," he assured her. "Healing won't work until the bullet is out anyway."

Her eyes flicked down to his stomach, then back up. "How do we get it out?" she asked fearfully.

Castiel's mouth pressed into a grim line. This was not going to be pleasant.

He grimaced as he summoned his angel blade from the ethereal plane, moving his arm so it could slide down his sleeve into his hand. Then he struggled to get into a position where he could see what he was doing.

Amy's eyes blew wide. "Dad…"

"I have to make the entry wound bigger in order to dig it out," he explained, pulling the hem of his shirt up to expose his stomach. The hole had stopped oozing grace, but was still sluggishly bleeding.

Amy's throat bobbed and she shifted onto her knees. "What do you need me to do?"

Castiel gave her a small look of pride for being willing to help, but he could handle this. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to dig an angel bullet out of his gut. He briefly wondered if the British Men of Letters was where Crowley had gotten the idea from.

"You don't have to watch," he said kindly, and then steeled himself.

Amy let out a shaky breath, but didn't look away, and instead gripped his shoulder to brace him as he angled the tip of the blade toward himself.

Castiel clenched his jaw and tried not to make a sound as the blade scored across his flesh and to his true form underneath. It would have been better to use a mundane weapon that couldn't pierce his grace, but neither he nor Amy carried one of those, and he'd rather endure the pain of precision rather than try to find a jagged rock to do the job instead.

Once the wound was widened a couple inches or so, Castiel set his blade aside. His hands were shaking, but he took a deep breath and plunged his thumb and forefinger into the hole, gritting his teeth against a strangled sound. Amy's fingernails dug into his shoulder, giving him something else to focus on long enough to recollect himself. He had to do this quickly and efficiently.

Trembling with shuddering breaths, Castiel closed his eyes and concentrated on feeling out the bullet lodged in the soft tissue. His fingers finally brushed it, but they were slick with blood which made the steel hard to grasp. Grunting painfully, he pushed just a little deeper, finally getting a hold of the bullet. As much as he wanted to yank it out, he had to force himself to go slowly, lest he lose his grip.

Finally, he pulled the blood covered bullet free and let it drop on the ground. Then he sagged against the tree trunk in exhaustion.

Amy scooted around and held a hand over his stomach, but her grace flickered weakly as she tried to channel it.

"Save your strength," Castiel breathed.

Her expression pinched, but she removed her hand. Castiel's grace would start to heal him now, though it would take time to mend damage done by angelic weaponry.

Time they didn't have.

Castiel fumbled around for a root or branch to grasp hold of. "Help me up."

"Dad, no. We should wait a little bit," Amy protested.

He shook his head doggedly. "They'll be after us. We need to keep moving."

He thought about flying, but he was too weakened, and with Amy's wing just barely healed from the sprain, not to mention whatever she'd been poisoned with, she wouldn't be able to carry them both.

He managed to get himself on his feet, though he had to lean heavily against the tree to do so. He wiped his bloodied hand on his coat as best he could, and then asked Amala to pick up his angel blade, which he then stowed in the inside flap of his coat. She ducked in to help support his weight, and together they set off, hobbling their way through the woods.

Castiel regretted their haste of flying all the way out here. Yes, reuniting with the Winchesters and Ryn was of paramount importance, but he'd started to forget how useful—and sometimes necessary—travel by car was. Now they'd either have to procure a vehicle if they happened to come across one, or keep moving long enough to evade capture in time for Castiel's wound to heal so he could fly them to safety.

Neither option boded well for them.

Castiel's breathing was so audibly labored as they stumbled along that he almost didn't hear the snapping of a twig behind them. But it was too late. As he lurched to a stop to throw a look over his shoulder, two men in black military type gear had already gained on them.

One pulled up short and took aim. Castiel pushed Amy out of the way, the dart hitting him in the shoulder instead. He frowned as a metallic type of substance surged through his veins. Were they trying to dose her with iron? Well, it did nothing to him. Castiel drew his angel blade and threw it at the man, hitting him in the upper arm. He'd been aiming for center mass, but his muscles had quailed under the strain, ruining the strike. Still, the man fell backward, his gun dropping from slackened fingers.

Castiel staggered as his stomach muscles pulled, but he stumbled toward the other attacker who was raising a handgun toward him. He had a brief second to wonder if it was loaded with more angel bullets, but then Amy was leaping toward the man with a hefty tree branch and clobbering him in the side of the head. He pitched backward, and Amy struck out again.

Castiel turned back to the other man, who was getting up. Gritting his teeth, he lumbered forward and managed to knock away the knife the thug had whipped out. He punched the man once, twice, and a third time finally put him down. And almost took Castiel with him.

He swayed in place and tried to catch his balance. His angel blade was on the ground now, and he bent down to snatch it up, but just as his fingers closed around the hilt, he felt the press of cold steel against his neck. Another angel blade.

A hand fisted in the back of his hair and a knee to the back drove him to the ground. His head was yanked up, giving him a full view of the leader of this militant group. He had fresh bruises forming on his face as he seethed down at Castiel.

There was a grunt and dull thud, and Castiel's gaze flicked to Amy where she'd knocked out her opponent. She whipped around, going rigid at the sight of them.

"That's enough, little girl," the man said sharply, pulling back Castiel's head even further until he gasped at the harsh angle. "I'm happy to take both of you into custody, but a mere angel isn't the prize here, and if I have to, I'll slit his throat." He pressed the blade in closer to emphasize his point, and Castiel hissed at the bite of steel nicking his skin.

"Don't!" Amy shouted desperately.

The man's lip curled upward. "Then be a good pet, and put on those sigiled handcuffs on that man's belt."

She glanced down at the silver bracelets attached to the soldier's gear.

"Amala, don't," Castiel urged.

The blade dug in deeper, stealing his breath.

Amy's eyes were wide and terrified as she hovered indecisively, but Castiel knew she would never save herself. And so he watched with sinking despair as she knelt down and took the handcuffs from the unconscious man, snapping them around her wrists. She jolted slightly, probably from the feeling of having her grace suddenly locked down tight. Castiel's heart constricted.

But for all her obvious fear, Amala managed to lift her head toward their captor. "What did you do with the rest of my family?" she demanded, voice only slightly wavering.

The man smirked. "If you come with us quietly, you just might get to see them one last time."

No. Castiel was not going to let them take her. A fresh burst of frenzied adrenaline shot through him, and Castiel grabbed the man's arm holding the blade to his throat, and with strength only a parent whose child is in peril could possess, he flipped the man over his shoulder.

His own angel blade was still on the ground at his knees, and Castiel snatched it up, but before he could strike, the man had rolled out of the way and into a crouch, expression livid. He flipped the blade around for an attack, and Castiel knew that even with this last-ditch surge of energy, he was in no shape to fight against a well-trained soldier.

And so Castiel lurched to his feet and lunged for Amy instead, grabbing her by the arms. His momentum pitched them toward the ground, but he spread his wings and flung them into the ether before they hit the dirt.

Flying sent lightning bolts of pain shooting through his stomach and around his back. His wings faltered under the strain, almost veering them off course. But Castiel gritted his teeth and focused on one destination with all his might, clinging to Amy with equal ferocity.

They tumbled through the ethereal currents for another second before exiting and crash landing in the middle of a living room, narrowly avoiding shattering a glass coffee table. Castiel gasped as his body seized, and he curled onto his side. Amy lay next to him on her back, blinking dazedly.

"What in the hell…" a female voice uttered in shock.

Castiel struggled to lift his head toward the two women who had been sitting at the dining table, but were now staring in stupefaction.

"I'm sorry," Castiel panted as he shot Jody Mills and Claire a pleading yet apologetic look. "I didn't…know…where else…to go."

And with that, his body finally gave out under the strain and he collapsed into oblivion.

Jody stared for a delayed moment at the two bodies that had dropped into her living room out of thin air. Castiel was covered in blood and had promptly passed out after landing. Next to him, Amy struggled into an upright position, her hands cuffed in front of her.

Jody finally snapped out of her stupor and surged from her chair, Claire a beat behind her. "What happened?" she asked urgently, coming around the table.

Claire reached Amy's side first and knelt down next to her. "Were you attacked at the bunker?"

The girl shook her head, worried eyes trained on her unconscious father. "We got a message from Dean that they escaped. Or, I thought it was from him. It was a trap. They…they shot Dad with an angel bullet."

Jody's eyes widened as she took in Castiel's condition. That didn't sound good.

She hurried to the stairs and shouted up to the second floor. "Alex! We need you!" She then turned back, trying to figure out what needed to be done first. She'd never imagined an angel would need first aid, but clearly that was the case here.

Alex rushed down the stairs, expression slackening in shock when she reached the landing. "What…?"

"Castiel's been shot," Jody explained. "Oh, that's Castiel, by the way. And Amy." She nodded to the girl.

Alex, thankfully, immediately went into professional mode once she saw the blood, and headed for her backpack by the door, which had a bunch of supplies from her nursing school program. "Jody, I need towels and water," she said.

Jody pivoted toward the hall closet to grab the items. Upon returning, she started throwing pillows off the couch and laying down the largest towels over the cushions. Claire was still sitting on the floor trying to pick the lock of the handcuffs on Amy's wrists.

"Was it those British Men of Letters?" Claire asked.

"I guess so," Amy replied numbly. Jody wondered if she was going into shock too. "They had British accents. Dad recognized the leader from the bunker, before we were banished."

Then they definitely couldn't go back there.

Jody turned to the angel out cold on her floor. There was nothing for it. She grabbed his legs while Alex grabbed under his arms, and together they hefted him onto the couch.

Alex snapped on a pair of gloves and started pushing away the bloodied layers of clothes. "There's no exit wound."

"Dad dug the bullet out," Amy said quietly.

Jody's brows rose sharply. Damn.

"Then shouldn't he be healing?" Claire interjected as she finally got the cuffs to unlock.

"It was made from an angel bullet," Amy said. "I tried to heal him." Now she started to sound distraught, and she was beginning to shiver.

"Hey," Claire said, trying to catch her eye. "You okay? Were you hit somewhere?"

The kid shook her head. "They tranked me with something. I don't know what. It's almost burned out, but my grace won't work." She turned to Alex. "Please help him."

Alex paused in her task long enough to give the girl a sage nod. "I will, I promise."

"How can I help?" Jody asked.

"I need a bowl of water."

Right, she'd forgotten. Jody went into the kitchen and grabbed one of the large mixing bowls from the cupboard and filled it with warm water. When she came back, Claire had gotten Amy off the floor and into the recliner. Alex was examining a cut along Castiel's neck that was weeping blood.

"Okay," she said, "this isn't deep. Jody, if you can clean it, I'll get started on the bullet wound." She paused. "Do you think he needs stitches? I mean, I've gotten to practice some, but I'm not an expert or anything."

"Once his angel healing kicks in, it won't matter," Claire put in. "I'm sure he just needs something to hold him over until then, right?" She looked at Amy for confirmation.

The poor girl just blinked back at her uncertainly.

"Maybe you should get Amy some juice," Jody suggested to Claire, then turned to start cleaning the blood away from the laceration on Castiel's throat. By the angle, she had a good idea how it'd gotten there. But Alex was right and it wasn't deep, so she applied some antiseptic and then placed a patch of gauze over it.

"Can you grab a fresh cloth and stand here?" Alex asked her once she was done. "I'm gonna try to stitch, but the wound is still bleeding and I need someone to mop up the excess."

"You got it." Jody grabbed a clean cloth and the bowl of water, and took up position at the ready.

Claire came back with a cup of orange juice and a blanket for Amy, and then stood back and watched as Alex carefully stitched up the angel whom Claire had a…complicated relationship with. But Jody knew she cared for him, and she desperately hoped that what little they were doing would be enough.

Jody watched the steady nip and tuck of Alex's suturing until the wound was closed as best as she could manage. Given its jagged edges—presumably from digging the bullet out—it was good work.

Alex rocked back and let out a long breath. She set the needle and thread aside, and then taped down a large pad of gauze over the wound. "Can angels get infections?"

Jody glanced at Claire. She had no idea.

Claire shrugged, and looked at Amy, but the girl's eyes were drooping where she sat curled up in the chair.

Alex nodded as though the silence was answer enough. "I'll watch for it, then."

"And we should get back to work," Jody said, nodding to Claire. They'd been in the middle of trying to track the money flow of the plane charter and rental cars when they'd been so shockingly interrupted. It was slow-going work, and not even Jody's law enforcement connections could breach the shield of diplomatic status. But they hoped to at least maybe find a money connection to some property where the Winchesters were potentially being held at.

Leaving their charges in Alex's capable hands, Jody returned to the table and the area where her expertise came in handy. She just hoped they found something soon.

A/N: And now our wayward sisters are here to help!