A/N: Thank you Guest and Loreley for your reviews! Cas and Ryn won't be meeting up with Sam and Dean just yet, but chapter 4 they will. And again, some lines from 10x14; they're not mine.


Chapter 3

Bogg's marsh was a short drive east, and it was mid-afternoon when they arrived, though the sun was hidden behind a drab sheet of dull pewter. Castiel pulled the Continental onto the shoulder of the backroad they'd taken and turned off the engine. The marsh stretched across several acres, and it might have been prudent for him and Ryn to split up to cover more ground, but neither suggested it.

They exited the car in somber silence and cautiously made their way into the dense woodland. A dank fog settled heavily over the moist, mulch covered ground. Barren trees stretched bony branches up toward the sky. They looked like brittle fingers ready to snap off should a bird even think to alight on one. But there were no animals, just an eerie hush that had fallen over the vicinity.

"Over here," Ryn called softly, just loud enough for his celestial hearing to pick up.

Castiel made his way toward her, coming to a stop as the decaying underbrush suddenly gave way to a massive clearing. One full of mounds and mounds of freshly sifted earth. There were dozens, in fact. Ryn's jaw was tight as she nodded to a limb poking out from one of the piles of dirt. Castiel moved closer and bent down to inspect it. A child's elbow, grimy with dirt and white from lack of blood flow, protruded from the crudely dug grave.

Castiel's stomach clenched as he took in the area with new insight. It was a graveyard. His gaze narrowed on a white shoe, a series of four letters and numbers printed on the sole for identification.

Mouth pressed into a grim line, Castiel straightened and pulled out his phone. Dean answered on the first ring.

"Hey, Cas, you got something?"

"Tommy Tolliver is dead. And Cain has been very busy." Who knew just how many bodies were here; there could be several buried together under each mound.

Ryn picked her way around the edge of the clearing, eyes roving over exposed body parts, a shadow of remembered darkness clouding her expression.

"Okay, where are you? We'll come to you."

A sense of unease prickled its way up the back of Castiel's neck. Stiffening, he slowly looked around the burial site. "I'll call you back." He hung up and turned the other direction, only to freeze when he found Cain standing a mere ten feet away.

"Hello, Castiel," Cain said. He flicked an unconcerned glance at Ryn, who stood a little further apart, the three of them forming an oblique triangle. For a long minute, no one spoke.

Then Castiel squared his shoulders. "What have you done?"

"These bodies?" Cain glanced around at the graves, shrugging mildly. "Just cleaning up a mess I made a long time ago."

Castiel frowned. "Cain, I know what you were. But you'd resisted for so long." And maybe he sounded a little desperate when he said it, but he knew how hard it was for Dean to bear the Mark, and how the Winchester had been secretly holding onto the hope that he could control it, just like Cain had all this time. For Cain to succumb now…what hope would there be for Dean if Ryn's attempt to cure him didn't work?

Cain's expression darkened. "What can I say? I got the taste back." He took a few steps toward Castiel. "With Abaddon's army gunning for me, I had to take up arms again. And I liked how it felt."

"Those were demons. These…" Castiel trailed off, horrified and repulsed by what they were standing in the midst of.

Cain crouched down and picked up a stuffed teddy bear matted with mud. He sighed, studying it. "Humans. Eh, the Mark thirsts for all kinds."

Castiel gritted his teeth. "This is a massacre."

"Yes," Cain said with relish. "And soon it will be a genocide." He straightened, and tossed the stuffed animal aside as he started moving closer again. "My children, my whole poisoned issue." Cain canted his head to look up through the trees, tone softening with a musing cadence. "A lot of them out there right now—killers, fighters, thieves." He paused, shrugging his brows as he added, "Some more peaceful than others. But they still carry it—the disease. If the Mark wants blood, I'll give it mine."

"You'll kill them all?" Castiel asked incredulously, stepping forward. "You are Adam and Eve's firstborn. Your descendants are Legion."

Cain appeared unconcerned. "At most, I'm culling…one in ten."

"Of everyone."

"I've got time." Cain paused, tilting his chin up thoughtfully. "How's Dean, by the way? I hear he did good, took Abaddon down."

A lump formed in Castiel's throat, and he glanced at Ryn. Her stance was tense as she guardedly watched the exchange.

Cain's brows lifted with understanding. "He's not well."

Castiel swallowed hard. "Even with the First Blade hidden…Dean is losing his fight against the Mark," he reluctantly admitted. "If we don't find a cure—"

"There is no cure," Cain interrupted. "I'm living proof of that."

Castiel tensed. What would Cain say if he knew a potential one was standing only a few yards away?

"But don't worry about Dean," Cain continued. "I'll get to him. In due time."

Castiel slipped his angel blade from his coat sleeve into his hand. That was not going to happen.

Cain's gaze drifted down nonchalantly at the weapon, then back up. "You're not on my list, Castiel." He started to half turn, but then paused, and a small gleam ignited in his eyes. "Though…I do enjoy a good bloodletting."

In barely the space of a breath, Cain whipped out a large serrated knife from the inside of his coat and lunged at Castiel, who brought his blade up just in time to block the blow. Iron and steel collided with a discordant clang, and the impact rattled down through Castiel's forearm. The whites of Cain's eyes were nearly bulging with madness as he bore down on Castiel, forcing the angel to stagger back a step. Castiel should have known he wasn't strong enough to take on the original Knight of Hell. Even with a full load of grace, the Knights' power, bestowed by Lucifer himself, rivaled that of angels.

Ryn charged up behind Cain and bashed a tree branch into his back. The three-inch thick piece of wood snapped in half, but the strike upset Cain's balance, and Castiel was able to push himself out of the blade lock. Cain whirled and flicked his wrist, lifting Ryn off the ground and tossing her several feet away.

Castiel darted in to slice his blade at Cain's chest, but the man was faster. He twisted out of reach, pivoting all the way around and slamming the handle of his knife into the side of Castiel's head. Black spots burst across his vision, and he was unable to see the second blow directed at his ribs. The punch hit with a cracking force, bringing Castiel to his knees. Next came a searing score across his chest, quickly followed by a subsequent slash down the other side.

Gasping in pain, Castiel tried to raise his weapon in defense, but it was suddenly wrenched from his grip. He heard a metallic clatter as it hit the ground several feet away. Castiel struggled to regain his feet, yet before he could, he felt a boot pressed against his chest that shoved him hard to the ground. Cain loomed over him.

"You know, I'm honestly torn between swatting you like a fly, or letting you go so Dean can do it later. And he will." Cain twirled his knife, the jagged teeth glistening with bright red. "He won't be able to resist the call of the Mark forever. Someday, and soon I'll wager, he'll drive an angel blade into your heart and glory in the feel of your blood pumping out over his hands. Though, I imagine it'll hurt something fierce, afterward."

Castiel shook his head in denial, grunting as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. No, Dean was stronger than that, he was… The memory of Randy and those other thugs Dean had slaughtered flashed through Castiel's mind. Dean had lost control. And maybe those men hadn't exactly been innocent, but they were human; they hadn't deserved what Dean did to them…

"Cain!"

Castiel blinked as Ryn snatched up his angel blade.

Cain slowly turned to face her, expression at first dubiously amused. But then his eyes narrowed for a scrutinizing moment before widening. "Aderyn. Well, isn't this an intriguing turn of events. I didn't even recognize you."

"I haven't changed."

Cain roved his gaze up and down her again. "I'd say you have. Joining up with a B-Team angel? And you used to be such a neutral party."

Ryn took a single sidestep toward Castiel. "So did you, last I'd heard."

"One can't run from his true self forever." His expression hardened with suspicion. "What are you doing here, Aderyn?"

"At the moment—warning you to back off." She lifted her chin defiantly, and the angel blade burst into flames. An orange aura began to halo her figure, and her eyes shone with fire as well. Castiel almost thought he could see flickers of silhouetted wings arching up behind her.

Cain's knuckles whitened around the grip of his knife, yet for a long moment they simply stared each other down. In the next instant, Cain had vanished.

Ryn held the flaming blade a moment longer, perhaps to make sure he was truly gone, and then she extinguished the fire and sprinted toward Castiel, dropping down beside him. Her brows knitted together as she took in his injuries.

"Can you stand?"

Castiel could tell by the tightness in her voice that she wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He didn't feel differently. "Yes."

Castiel pulled himself up with a pained grunt, his cracked ribs screaming their protest. His vision blurred for a moment, and he blinked rapidly to clear it. Unfortunately, that only made him more dizzy. A wet stickiness coated the whole left side of his face, and every breath sent fire through his chest.

Ryn took his arm and slung it over her shoulder. "Come on."

He let her guide him out of the field and away from the brutal massacre that portended Dean's future, either as the next victim—or the next grave digger.


Ryn kept throwing glances over her shoulder as she and Castiel made their way back to the car. Cain could take her in a fight, but she didn't think he was willing to test his mettle against hers just yet. And of the two of them, she was currently holding one of the only few weapons that could kill her—permanently.

She cast a worried look at Castiel as he staggered out of the underbrush and onto the road. She knew Cain, as a Knight of Hell, had the strength to match an angel's, but she'd seen Castiel fight before, and what happened back there was not what she'd expected.

Castiel caught himself on the roof of the Continental, bowing his head as his chest heaved with labored breaths.

Ryn tried to duck in and get a look underneath his arms; there were still bloody tears in his clothes. And flesh. "Why isn't your vessel healing?" She hadn't seen any special sigil work on Cain's knife. He'd been hunting humans, after all, and didn't need it.

Castiel lifted blue eyes clouded with pain, and for a split moment, Ryn saw beyond their depths to the angel's grace swirling within. She nearly reeled back in shock. She hadn't recognized him when he'd first come to her cabin, but had dismissed it as a natural byproduct of time and change.

This, however, was something entirely different. Castiel's grace was in tatters. Where it had once ebbed and pulsed in a brilliant array of indigo, azure, and silver like the aurora borealis in the north, this grace was a mottled knot of dull blue and sleet. There were pieces of Castiel, his spirit, but the once divine light churned like a poisonous cancer eating away at him.

"What's wrong with your grace?" she demanded.

Castiel dropped his gaze. "It's…not mine."

Ryn's brows rose sharply. "What does that mean?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "My grace was taken from me. Cut out and used as an ingredient in that spell that cast the angels from Heaven. I was human for a bit, until…" He let out a strained breath, either due to emotion or his injuries, Ryn wasn't sure. "I was forced to steal another angel's grace to survive."

Ryn didn't even know where to start with that. And she thought hearing about how that angel Naomi had scrubbed Castiel's mind blank was the worst he'd gone through. No wonder he was…changed.

She narrowed her eyes. "It's making you sick."

Castiel's shoulders drooped. "It's burning out. And when it does, I'll go with it."

A thrill of fear shot through her. "How long?"

Castiel managed to give her a sympathetic look. "Long enough to save Dean."

"Is that all you care about?" she said, unable to keep the bite from her tone. The Castiel she'd known had a kind and giving heart, but this dogged determination to the point of self-destruction was a different side to him altogether. But then, Ryn didn't really know him anymore, did she?

Castiel's face pinched with pain. "I have to save him. You don't understand, I've done so much wrong, I need to do this right." He started to sway, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Ryn reached out to brace his shoulder. "Alright, fine. Do you have first aid supplies in the trunk?" She didn't want to get into an argument with him bleeding all over the side of the road. And she didn't want to be here when Cain returned.

Castiel frowned. "I will heal."

"Oh yeah, when?"

His mouth pressed into a tight line.

"That's what I thought." Ryn stuck her hand in his pocket and fished out the keys herself.

Castiel let out a heavy sigh. "You sound like Dean."

"Well, then maybe I'll like the guy." She popped the trunk and tossed aside a few raggedy blankets before she found a small duffel containing bandages. Upon further thought, she snatched up some towels as well and slammed the trunk. "Get in the car."

Castiel took a stumbling step toward the driver's door.

Ryn hurried back over and gripped his elbow. "Other side."

He blinked at her, and the blood painting the side of his face was just wrong.

Ryn let out an exasperated noise. "You are not driving like this."

She steered him around to the passenger side. He was becoming oddly pliant, likely due to shock, another thing that screamed its wrongness in Ryn's mind. She eased him into the front seat, crouching down to get a look at the wounds. They were still bleeding, albeit sluggishly, so she probably didn't have to worry about him losing a pint or more of blood. But granules of grace were dribbling out as though through a sieve. Which took going to a hospital off the table of options.

Ryn dumped the angel blade and supplies on the floor at Castiel's feet, save one towel which she pressed to the side of his head. "Hold that there." Then she slammed the door shut and sprinted around to the driver's side where she slipped in behind the wheel.

"Do you even know how to drive?" Castiel asked.

Ryn didn't dignify that with a response. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, and Ryn veered the behemoth car off the shoulder to head as far away from Bogg's marsh as she could get. Only once they were a safe distance away would she stop to tend Castiel's wounds. Unless he was correct and they were healed by then.

She wasn't holding her breath on that.

Ryn sped down the highway for eight miles before she finally pulled off at a wooded rest stop. Castiel had been quiet and gradually listing against the window, so she deemed his injuries a priority over getting farther away from Cain's playground.

Ryn parked in the back of the lot under a large maple and turned the engine off. Rather than getting out of the car, she reached across Castiel to grab the duffel from near his feet. Drawing her legs up to kneel on the seat, she gently took his wrist and pulled the towel away from his face. "Let me see."

He blinked dazedly, but grimaced when she tilted his head back to get a better angle.

"Okay, this one looks worse than it is. Keep pressure on it, though, while I check the others." She leaned down and started undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Cain called you Aderyn," Castiel said quietly.

"Ryn for short," she replied, frowning at the crisscrossed slashes up and down his chest. Were he human, she would have said it needed stitches, but maybe cleaned and bandaged would be good enough to help his failing grace along. In any case, he didn't seem to have needle and thread in the bag.

"It means 'bird,'" he mumbled.

Ryn closed her eyes for a brief moment. It still boggled her mind that he didn't remember. The passing millennia may have blunted the memories and emotions for Ryn, but she'd never forgotten. It wasn't even as though she and Castiel had planned to remain friends after they parted ways in Egypt. She'd just…always thought in the back of her mind that should she see him again, someday…it wouldn't be like this.

Ryn found a bottle of water and poured some of it onto a piece of gauze so she could clean away the blood. Castiel sucked in a sharp breath when she brushed over the lacerations, even though she tried to be gentle.

"How did you know about the grace?" he asked.

A lump gathered in her throat. "It's not how I remembered it."

His brow furrowed, even as his eyes started drooping to half-mast and the hand holding the towel dropped to his side. "My true form burns eyes out."

Against her better judgment, Ryn lifted a hand and tenderly brushed a lock of matted hair away from his forehead. "I'm already made of fire," she whispered.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, pupils dilating with a surge of fear. "What Cain said can't come true. I have to save Dean before it comes true."

Ryn forced back a sigh. "I know." Castiel's devotion to the Winchesters was abundantly clear. She returned to cleaning the gashes, and he lashed out to grab her wrist.

"You saved my life back there, repaid whatever debt you thought you owed me."

It took her a moment to realize why he was so distraught—he thought she no longer had cause to help him. Ryn shook her head sadly, and gently pried his fingers from her arm. It didn't take much effort.

"You were never a debt to me, Castiel."

His eyelids fluttered futilely as he sank further against the window.

Ryn touched his forehead again. "Just rest. I'll stand watch."

"I wish I could remember you," he murmured, already succumbing to exhaustion.

Ryn's heart clenched as he finally sagged into complete unconsciousness. He sounded so lost, so vulnerable. In many ways nothing like the angel she knew, and yet…in many ways just the same. Innocent, curious, kind and open-hearted. But there was also a brokenness to him now, as though the years had aged him the way it did mortals, with heart-shattering burdens and turmoils.

Ryn roved her gaze over his battered and beaten form—both vessel and spirit—and mourned for him.