Dean turned back to face the angel, a smile lighting his face, ready to gloat.

"I..." Castiel began. Rendered speechless, again, Dean thought. But his amusement quickly turned to panic when the angel's eyes grew wide and he let the book he'd been holding tumble off of the bed and onto the floor.

"Cas? You okay?" he asked hastily.

"Dean," was all Castiel stated in response and his face contorted into what Dean could only name as intense pain. Cas' body jerked up off the bed to stand next to it. "It's time." It was Cas' voice and his lips moving, but Dean felt an off sensation telling him that they were not Cas' words. Cas' eyes were wide and startled, still. His eyebrows were as high on his forehead as they would go – pulling together in the middle.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. He heard something crash in the main room, hurried footsteps clambered on the tile.

Dean took a step towards Cas, not quite knowing what to do, how to help him. It was painful seeing him this way, a tortured look in his scared eyes.

When Dean took his step forward, the angel took a feverish one backwards. Wherever Cas' skin was visible, the back of his clenched fists, his forehead, veins were popping out in exertion. Dean saw the muscles in Cas' face contract, and a drop of blood rolled down his cheek, staining it with a dark, red line, beginning at his eye and disappearing under the collar of his coat. He'd seen it before, the last time he'd seen Cas before he had disappeared. He was suddenly overcome with fear, hoping the pattern wouldn't repeat itself.

"Cas! What's happening?" He demanded as Sam appeared in the doorway.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I'm.. I don't know but I know it's not good," Dean tried to explain.

"Everything's fine, Sam. Could you go get me the demon blade?" Cas' voice sounded eerily calm, dripping civility.

"What for, Cas?" Sam looked as confused as Dean felt.

"I'll explain in a moment. Just get it for me please." The expression on his face did not match the words escaping his mouth. He looked terrified and it made the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand up straight.

Sam reluctantly turned to hustle down the hallway towards the door outside, Dean wished he'd parked the Impala closer to the bunker. He put his hands up, palms facing Cas.

"What. Is. Going. On?" He demanded again, trying to look as far from from threatening as possible, hoping to avoid scaring the angel back even farther away from him.

"Dean, it's about time we take care of you. Hopefully this time for good." The use of a plural pronoun did not escape Dean's attention, and he was now sure Cas was not completely in control of himself. Still, it was hard for him to piece together the statement. The words made sense enough, but they felt foreign and jumbled coming from Cas' mouth. Meanwhile Cas' eyes were darting back and forth between Dean and his own outstretched hands, his panic apparent.

He was coming to the conclusion that it'd be best to get Sam's ass back in here pronto when Cas crossed the room in a flash, pinning him to the wall a foot in the air, his fingers enclosing his throat in a tight grip, effectively silencing him and deterring that agenda.

Despite the angel's threatening words and behavior, Dean was still haunted by the look in his eyes. They were the only thing that still seemed like Cas. As he tried to look Cas in the eyes, he could see the darkness creeping into the corners of his own vision, his throat produced some gurgling sounds as it searched for any available oxygen.

Cas' grip loosened by a tiny fraction, Dean could see he was fighting whatever it was with all he had while fresh red tears streaked the angel's face and it was enough for Dean to try and speak. His words came out as a croak, the rough hands pressing against his windpipe.

"Cas. Cas, please." He didn't know what to say. He hoped Cas was able to hear him, even if he was buried deep.

"We're going to make sure this time. You won't get to return to mortality. There's only one place you're going and it surely isn't heaven."

His mono-tonal voice sent chills reverberating up and down Dean's back. In any other circumstances, Dean would smother his fear, push back the memories of the sweltering, horrifying place that he had spent most his life suffering through, but the threat seemed too real, too close with powerful hands holding his fate. Hands that he refused to damage as they belonged to someone he could never hurt.

"Don't do this, Cas. I know you. I... you mean more to me than you know." Now his vision had gone completely black, there was echoing in his ears – maybe Sam's footfalls returning? He kept talking, not much time left, "I love you and you are mine. Not the demons', or the angels', or whoever it is who's controlling you right now. Mine, you hear me? I swear to your fucking dad, if you let them kill me, I'm gonna find a way to kick your ass..." That's as far as he got before he felt his consciousness slip away.

Deep down in the darkness, he heard a sickening tearing sound. He realized it must be his body being torn apart, and he was vaguely surprised to feel no pain. His last thought was a prayer, begging the universe or God or whoever was listening that Sammy hadn't just watched him get torn to pieces, and that Cas wouldn't blame himself for his death.