Title: The Whole World Goes Blind

Prompt: Written for hugglewolf on livejournal: "SPN, Team Free Will, mute!Castiel: Not long after they escape Gabriel's TV world, a demon or other thingy causes Castiel to lose his voice. He doesn't cope well, but Sam and Dean are there to calm him down and ground him."

The first time, Castiel looked around wildly for his brother-half-expecting the smirking face and a snap of fingers.

All the other times that followed, Castiel could only wish it was the flighty archangel with the attention span of a gnat. That his lack of speech could be attributed to something as flimsy as duct tape.

Gabriel had been the first to deprive Castiel of speech. Raphael had been the one to take it from him permanently.

The healer had been the one to mangle Jimmy Novak's throat and vocal chords with invasive fingers and burning grace, and destroy the fundamental part of Castiel's true self made for praise, and song. In a way, losing his wings would have been less painful.

Sign language was a poor substitute to the power of Castiel's voice-even muffled as it had been by his vessel.

Castiel could not call upon his brothers, pray to his Father, or even warn the Winchesters of the advancing threat. So hauling his own demonic challenger with him, Castiel reappeared directly behind the unwary brothers as an angelic shield.

By the time Dean could turn around, the threat had been neutralized. Castiel stood, looking for once like the powerful being he was with his hand locked around a hellhound's throat and holding the entire beast aloft. Under his other arm, the demon's eyes spin wildly as his meatsuit hung limply from a headlock strong enough to break the poor guy's spinal cord. The trench coat flutters like a freaking cape in the irrational breeze blowing through the decrepit warehouse.

It looks pretty darn impressive . . . which is why Dean's a step behind Sam, who has abandoned the victim like day-old fast food for Castiel.

There's a thump as Castiel drops the demon. The sound is muted, and Dean moves automatically to bury the demon-killing knife in its chest. His attention is on Sam and Castiel.

"Come on, Cas. Let it go," his brother encourages, one gigantic hand clasped all the way around the angel's outstretched arm. "It's no big deal. Really."

Dean belatedly realizes that the blood that makes the hellhound distinguishable is coming from Castiel's grip on the thing's neck. The blood is also running down Castiel's arm, staining the formerly immaculate trench coat sleeve. The source of the blood? Castiel's fingers buried several inches deep in the thing's throat.

Shit.

The victim is still shrieking. Castiel is still silent-blue eyes big and round, mouth open in little half-gasps for unnecessary breath. Sam is still making encouraging noises and pawing at the falling angel.

Dean ignores them all, and cautiously wraps an arm around the dead beast's body. Dead or not, it sucks that he has to get this close to evil!Lassie, but it's Dean turn to take one for the team this week.

Bobby handled the succubus last week, and Sam faced Becky the week before that. Castiel has been permanently removed from the list.

Sam catches on and wraps an arm around Castiel's chest. Once he's secure, Dean begins the disgusting task of digging Castiel's fingers out of the hellhound's neck. The creature finally comes loose and Dean tosses it aside, wrinkling his nose.

Castiel's knees gave out, and Sam is lowering him to the floor cautiously. Now that Castiel seems to have regained control of his hand again, he's clutching at his throat as he continues that odd gasping intake of breath. Under the new layers of hellhound blood, are the scars that mirror the injury to the beast's neck.

They'll give him another minute, and Castiel will pull himself back together. He'll blink and his clothes and skin will be pristine once more. He'll make an irritated sign for Sam's benefit, stony expression firmly in place and disappear for another two weeks on his search for God. He always does.

The teenage girl is still screaming. Dean can't take the sound another minute, and turns just enough to glare at her over his shoulder. "Shut. Up."

She swallows the cry with a little gulping noise, and Castiel suddenly snorts a silent, strangled huff of laughter as he stared at his bloody hands.

And Dean would kind of like to gank Raphael all over again.