Demons

It's purposeful, the slow walk to where the impala crouches. Its deliberate, its calculated. We know you're there and we know you're watching us. The sun beats down. The asphalt creaks. The figures across the street do not move. If you know us, you'll know we're dangerous. Heavy, careful footsteps, one after another in slow, rhythmic agony. Just you try it.

Sam blinks sweat out of his eyes, breathes stifling air. His hands wrap subconsciously tighter around Castiels arm, though the angel seems to be mostly supporting his own weight. Dean isn't even touching him anymore, walking stiffly ahead, eyes fixated on the figures across the road.

'Damn it,' Sams mutter turns into a half-grunt as Cas stumbles.

He rights himself without missing a beat, only a shaken breath hinting deeper hurt. The angel feels strange under cotton, looks to small without a trench coat to swarth him. Sams fingers graze over bandages under his shirt, over the lumpy stitches that hold his back together.

Half heartedly Sam says, 'you okay?'

And Castiel blinks at the figures across the street, the figures who still haven't moved. His eyes hold strange stillness, sunken luminescence amongst dark discolouration. But there is no fear. Only something much deeper, and much more primal.

'I can't fight them,' Cas says carefully, gaze still fixated.

'You don't need to,' Sam firmly answers.

And he wonders how Castiel does it, how he can even exist in this strange, half-state, where sometimes he is so very Castiel and other times he is nothing they have ever seen before. Not god or Leviathan or someone hiding terrified behind insanity, just something incomprehensible now hopeless and lost. He sees Cas frown, as though the angel can hear the thoughts… perhaps he can.

The pressing security of the impala looms next to them. As they fumble with doors, Cas leans against its warm skin, one shoulder pressed to the car. Sam flickers his eyes to Dean, who standing stock still. Dean, who is burning with the power of the hunt, who is watching the figures across the street like an animal.

They watch calmly back, and still do not move.

Cas says, 'they're old,' and then his eyes open larger. Nothing else moves, the tension ekes to painful, even the wind has fallen still. But Cas' eyes are blazing, wide in trepidation, and staring right at Sam. Staring right past Sam.

To where five figures are standing mere feet away.

And for a moment no one dares move.

Five figures, ten inky eyes. Man, man, woman, man, child. Except they're not that at all. They're twisted husks of smoke, clawing and suffocating in their stolen fragile bodies. They are ash and brimstone and hunger and malevolence.

'One step closer and you're dead,' Dean growls.

'Now, now, Winchester,' one purrs silky.

Its a though a spell is broken; they relax, exchange looks, force plastic smiles onto stolen faces. The first demon holds up its hands in mock surrender. 'We don't want any trouble.'

'Then leave,' Sam jerks his head at the road, uses the movement to take a step closer to Cas. 'Walk away-'

'-and no one gets hurt?' the demon grins. 'Sure thing, Winchester. We're only here to ogle anyway.'

The demon wearing the child gives a dissatisfactory sniff. 'All the way from Ohio for this? Not very impressive,' a few murmurs of agreement. 'Pathetic, really.'

'Don't spoil it,' another chides, then suddenly its black eyes snap to Castiel. 'You're quite the celebrity in certain circles, we just wanted to see you for ourselves.'

Something unnatural slides down Sams spine, settles cloyingly in the pits of his stomach. The angel is glaring fury, bruises deepening around his eyes. Sam hates those bruises, hates the story they tell. Dean seems frozen too, hand half raised with the demon bomb still tightly clutched.

'Mmmnn, they were right,' a female rakes her eyes over Castiel, black and flat and hungry, 'he's a pretty one.'

'All knotted up now, though.'

'Not healing, angel?'

'Little blackbird,' the child murmurs.

Cas moves the exact same time as Sam, a strange panicked jolt. The demons titter, and all Sam feels is a horrible uncontrollable something whirling up inside him. He balls a fist, takes a step. But suddenly Cas' fingers are weakly gripping him.

'Sam,' his voice is strained and low.

Sam grits his teeth.

'Sam,' Cas says again, and theres an undercurrent to it. Sam blinks, scans the demons rapidly, Cas is warning him of something. Theres a bigger threat, theres danger. One of the figures at the back stands silent, stands commanding, stands pulsing with energy. It's the only one not looking at them.

It's the only one looking at Dean.

Dean, who's hand is imperceptibly shaking, but not with fear. Dean, who hasn't spoken for too long a time. Dean, who hasn't moved since the demons came close.

'You fucker,' Sam spits.

'Ouch, Sam,' the female mocks hurt. 'Honestly, we're just taking precautions. We all know he's the one with the temper, right?' Dean makes a strangled grunt. 'Besides,' she continues, 'I bet you don't want to waste that deadly looking ball of…' her eyes flip to the bomb, '…nastiness. We're not a threat,' she smiles coldly. 'Promise.'

'Release him,' Castiel growls.

A tall male grins widely. 'Hey! Don't ruffle your feathers at us.'

'Whats left of them!'

They dissolve into hideous shrieks. Faces splitting open but eyes never once leaving them. Sam shifts his weight, glowers them down, convinces himself that Cas is doing the same, because he can't bare to think what the angels face might be doing otherwise.

'Don't worry,' a demon eventually says, 'we know he's off limits.'

'What?'

'We're not allowed to touch,' it waves his hand lazily, 'some very powerful so-and-so's decreed it.'

Sam works his throat. 'Who?'

He's given nothing but a grin in response.

'Hands off the angel,' another drawls, the others stir with identical grins, 'but we got no orders on you, Sam Winchester.'

'Traitorous prince.'

'Thats right, Winchester.'

'Plenty of demons want your head.'

'Want you dead, Sam Winchester.'

Beside him, Cas stirs, and Sam realises he can taste electricity in the air. There is something half-controlled about the angels little shudders, like he's drawing on energy that he doesn't have to spare. Very carefully and very slowly he raises a hand.

'Leave,' he commands, and, god, he can still be terrifying when he wants to.

The demons shriek with laughter again.

'Ohh, the bird still has a voice!'

'Back off,' Sam feels his voice curl into a snarl. Cas is pressing hot and unsteady into him, but a quick glance shows the angel is as still as marble; that terrifying mixture of intensity and serenity which echoes of old times.

'You're cowering in your wolf-skin, sheep,' Cas retorts, 'and your flock is thin,' a ripple runs through the demons, Sam can feel the hairs prick on the back of his neck. 'You should run back to your shepherd.'

This brings forth a hiss. Empty grins twist into grotesque snarls, eyes flicker to darkness.

'Don't speak of him.'

Theres no pleasure left in their words anymore.

'You've met him, haven't you?'

'We've heard all sorts of stories, angel.'

'About the things you did.'

'Blackbird.'

'The things they'd make you scream.'

A strange burst of giggles.

'Did it hurt when they sliced into you?!'

Castiels eyes flash thunder. And an eternity is contorted into a heartbeat. There's a second. A snap. A lunge and a strike. Sam moves without thinking, meets an advancing demon and slams his fist like a hammer into its face. Thats all he can do, all he has time to do, before Castiel wrenches his hand with a violent twist and something flares.

Sam tastes metal, tastes neon and sharp light.

'Cas!'

The demons let out a hallowing shriek.

Invisible chains snap, Dean stumbles forward. Down, get down! He raises his hand, arching it over his head, now, Dean, now! The bomb is slammed forcefully into the ground.

Then there is only rushing heat, a gasp of air, and sudden stillness.

With a forceful growl the impala claws its way back onto the road. Destination: Ohio. The day is peaking, warm and humid, it powers forward, wind biting at its flank.

Dean grips the wheel and mutters, 'christ,' under his breath. Some switch has flipped in his brain, one he doesn't quite understand. Deep anger has moulded to frustration, the demon attack a final straw now snapped. Its the same twisted uselessness that burned when Cas first disappeared. That hopeless, helpless… they were so small.

Except now Cas is back. He's back and half broken, and the more they find out from him the less they seem to know; angels and demons and a whole mess of something that he just refuses to talk about.

Forty miles down the road Dean suddenly speaks. 'Wanna explain any of that?'

Sam glances at Cas, slumped quietly in the backseat. He looks tired and wan and even paler than before, whatever roaring power now subsided to a sluggish lull. The only movement he controls are uncoordinated eyes and unsteady breath. Sam has no idea what he did, and no idea how he did it, but he's glad he did.

'What happened?' Dean asks again.

As though on a delay, Cas raises his head, the rest of him stays limply sprawled. 'Demons of old,' he finally says. His voice is quiet and worn. 'I don't know them, but I recognised their power. They serve a demon named Solas, a knight of Hell.'

Sam blinks, 'you mean like Abbadon?'

'You've met Abbadon?'

'Yeah, we ganked her,' Dean squares his shoulders.

The angels face goes still for a moment, his stare unblinking, and then it softens and his eyes slink away. Its a look thats easy to read, a look thats so very Castiel. It suggests he's faintly impressed but also completely unsurprised, as if he's saying of course you did, you're the Winchesters.

'So, Solas? You know him?' Sam prompts.

'Yes.' There is a pause thats too heavy to be insignificant before Cas says, 'we've technically met,' his next words are careful. 'He… sang to me.'

'He sang to you?'

'Yes,' his eyes slink away, 'a song about a blackbird.'

They remember the demons taunting voices, little blackbird, they'd said softly, picking the angel apart with their hungry eyes. And it had hurt Cas, that much was clear. The brothers are guiltlessly glad they're dead.

'He and his followers are fiercely loyal to Hell,' the angel continues. 'They're- I don't know why they've chosen now to emerge.'

Deans eyes flick to the mirror and back. 'You sure about that?' he murmurs too quietly. He catches Castiel looking strangely at him, and suddenly he knows this is happening.

'Okay, fine,' Dean counters, and Sam wonders where the hell this suddenly came from. 'I was just wondering, cause, y'know, you've had angels messing with your head for months and then these demons turn up wanting to see you. Whole thing reeks to be honest.'

The weariness in Castiels face disappears, its replaced with unease. 'Heaven wants nothing to do with me, I am…' he falters, 'because of what was done.'

'You said they discarded you,' Sam recites. Cas spares him a nod, but for whatever reason, Dean has decided that now is talking time. Or, more accurate for Dean, confrontation time.

'So, level with me here. How come they just let you go? The big halo club.' Castiel says nothing. 'Y'know,' Dean continues, 'after months of whatever they've been doing, or, or whatever- they just,' he waves a vague gesture, 'threw you out?'

Castiel opens and closes his mouth. 'I…' his fingers curl in on themselves. 'They aren't looking, Dean. Heaven has no want of me.'

Dean bites the inside of his mouth and tries again. 'They zapped you up there, stuck a drill into your skull,' he swallows, 'did their freaky mind games or whatever and then… adios?'

Castiel says nothing.

'C'mon Cas!' Dean snaps.

Sam rubs his face, 'its just it, uh, doesn't sound like angel behaviour,' he tries to catch Deans eye, tries to give a sharp warning, don't get wound up, calm, but his brother isn't looking.

'What do you want me to say?' Cas tries to shift, but his body doesn't seem to be responding.

Everything, Dean thinks manically. You're not telling us squat and you wont explain things properly, you're freaking me out and I don't even know how to ask the questions I want to ask. Whats wrong? Just.. please. What the hell are we supposed to do?

'We don't get why they let you go, man,' he has to force himself to stay calm.

Sam nods unhappily, reaches out for the feather on the dashboard. 'Its just… from what we know of angels, they wouldn't do that,' he hints.

Another stifling silence.

'Why didn't they just kill you?!' Dean snaps.

Castiels eyes flash indignant. 'They don't want me.'

'Right, so they just let you go?' Dean doesn't even try to hide the sarcasm.

'Is that so hard to believe?'

'That they had you prisoner for months, and then held the door for you on your way out?' Dean rolls his eyes. 'Yes!' he snaps.

Castiel sighs and distantly raises his torn hands to rub raw fingers over his forehead. Its the first time Dean has seen him acknowledge himself, like he is there and real. Little insistences burrow into Dean's brain, look how tired he is, look how lost and broken he is, you stole him and you snapped him. Look at what you've done.

Dean shakes them away and tries to understand the strange brimming hollowness that encompasses Castiel. He's living but not alive, he wont talk but he talks. Dean inwardly curses, because they've danced this dance before. He knows the steps far to well, lies and petty twisting of truths, they're the heartbeat of his godforsaken life.

'What aren't you saying?' he can't help but bite out. 'C'mon, Cas. You're not telling us everything.'

'No,' Cas agrees quietly.

'Well then tell us!'

He feels the angel shift behind him, feels Sams unhappy vibes as he twirls that stupid battered feather. Sure Sam, sit on your silent moral high ground why don't you? But you want to know as much as me, you're not stopping me, you know we need to know this.

Very slowly Castiel begins, 'I told you…'

'Bullcrap,' Dean snaps and he's just so tired. He takes a breath. And then another. 'Okay, bottom line, Cas, if demons are gunna come chasing you down then we need to know whats happening. Cause if they want you, you can bet like Hell the angels will too. We need to know what we're dealing with. So how bout giving us the truth this time?'

And then the bottom drops out of everything, because Cas says far to quietly, 'I haven't lied.'

And the silence in the car is more deafening that any words.

'I wont... lie again. I learned my lesson.'

And Castiels eyes drop, and he is nothing, and Dean breaks in two.

Wow I abuse italics even more than usual in this chap!

The song Cas refers to is 'Blackbird' by the Beatles.

I hope the confrontation doesn't seem to out of place in terms of pacing/characters (please let me know if it does!)... I'm still ridiculously busy so sorry sorry sorry if this is a bit stringy in places :P But Solas, ey? Some fun things to come with that happy-chappy.

Gah, thank you guys so so much for all your reviews! They honestly brighten my whole week.