Chapter 4

Castiel stood on the back porch, senses peeled against the encroaching night. A full moon hung in the sky, washing the vista in a soft white aura. Ryn and Elijah had gone inside the backdoor, and Castiel could hear their slightly muffled voices from within.

"Are you sure you don't want help looking?" Ryn asked.

"I'm fine."

There was a creak of a door and then silence. Castiel cast one last look around the woodland and went inside. Ryn was standing in a small kitchen, expression pinched. She glanced over at his entrance.

"Elijah went down to the basement," she informed him quietly.

"You just have to give him time," he said. "He was held captive and tortured for years; it's understandable he'd have trouble trusting anyone."

"I know. I just wish there was more I could do."

Castiel nodded in understanding. He knew all too well how difficult it was to try helping someone who didn't necessarily want it. Who might be afraid to accept it. "You're doing what you can."

Ryn's lips thinned. "I haven't asked him who did it. If they're still alive. It's possible he killed them all in a resurrection, and that's how he escaped at all."

Yes, that did seem the most likely explanation.

"One issue at a time," Castiel said. "First we help fix his resurrections, and then we can address some of the other ramifications of his captivity."

Ryn let out a long breath, and nodded just as her phone started ringing. She hurriedly fished it out and answered. "Amy? What is it?"

"He's coming back!" their daughter's harried voice carried over the speaker.

Castiel stiffened. Ryn spun toward the door set in the back of the kitchen and yanked it open.

"Elijah, we need to go!"

"I need more time!"

She shot a frantic look at Castiel, and he dropped his angel blade into his hand.

"Sam, Dean," he called. "Get ready."

In the adjoining living room, Dean quickly covered the recently painted devil's trap with the rug. Ryn darted in to grab her katana from the weapons duffel before returning to the kitchen. Sam crouched down by the front door with the demon blade in hand, and Dean took up position in the kitchen doorway, gun aimed and ready. As they all fell silent in preparation, a high-pitched, lilting whistle began to echo from down the road. Castiel centered himself as the sound drew closer, followed by heavy footsteps coming up the steps. The door creaked open.

A gunshot cracked the air and cut off the whistling. But the demon didn't stagger or even cry out. In fact, when Castiel peeked around the archway, the demon calmly set his fishing pole against the wall and turned toward Dean.

"You mind explainin' why you broke into my house?" he said.

Dean fired a second time, again with no result.

"I know it wasn't just to ruin the evening catch," the demon continued, and kicked the rug over, revealing the devil's trap. "Hunters." He actually chuckled.

Dean squeezed the trigger and fired several more times, each bullet ripping through flesh and muscle, but the demon kept stalking toward him, heedless of the devil's trap—which also appeared to have no effect on him.

Sam jumped up from behind and drove the demon blade into his side. The demon elbowed him in the face, throwing him back into the wall. Then he gripped the hilt and pulled the blade out, the barest slivers of orange sparks emitting from the wound.

"Well," the demon crooned. "That didn't work."

Castiel didn't have time to wonder why it hadn't worked, why any of it hadn't worked. All he knew was that the Winchesters' weapons appeared to be useless, so he surged out from the kitchen, angel blade raised. The demon's gaze instantly snapped toward him, eyes flashing with a sneer.

"Angel."

He threw an elbow at Dean's face and bulldozed past him, tackling Castiel head on and driving him backward into the cupboards with such force that Castiel's feet left the ground before impact, and he crashed to the floor in a shower of glass. He lay there dazed for a moment, struggling to shake it off.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Sam and Dean make a move to come help, but the demon waved his hand, and the door suddenly slid shut in their faces. They pounded at it with frantic shouts.

There was a small screech of steel as Ryn drew her katana.

The demon turned toward her and made a humming sound in the back of his throat. "Hiya, sweetheart."

Ryn thrust her blade toward him, but he dodged and slammed his head into hers, knocking her back against the sink. Castiel pushed himself up and tackled the demon from the side, attempting to get a blow in with his blade. The demon caught his arm mid strike and used his own momentum to swing him around into Ryn. They caught themselves on the counter, yet before they could regain their balance, the demon shot out both hands, and a concussive whomp of power slammed into them and sent them both sailing backward through the window.

The door to the kitchen wasn't budging, so Sam and Dean ran out the front in order to go around back from the outside. They barely made it onto the porch before Amy was running up toward them.

"We have a problem!"

"Yeah, we know," Sam said, heart pounding. Their weapons hadn't worked. How the hell hadn't their weapons worked? They hadn't come across a demon this strong since Abaddon!

Amy shook her head and pointed back the way she'd come. "No, demons incoming."

Sure enough, two mooks dressed in suits were striding toward them with murderous intent. Crap, how had Sam and Dean missed those during the reconnaissance earlier?

"Alright." He tapped Dean on the shoulder urgently. "Get to Cas and Ryn. We got this. Go!"

Dean didn't need to be told twice, and went vaulting over the side of the porch railing.

Sam gripped the demon blade—and hoped it'd work on these two. "You ready?"

Amy drew her angel blade and stood shoulder to shoulder with him as the demons charged up the steps. The female meatsuit went for Amy, plowing straight into her and shoving her back into the house. The angel blade clattered to the floorboards.

Sam stabbed his knife toward the male demon coming at him, but brute force caught his arm midair and held it at bay.

"Winchester," the demon sneered.

Sam gritted his teeth and struggled to break free. To the side, Amy raised her knee and delivered a front kick right into the female demon's stomach, doubling her over with a grunt. She then dove for her blade, but the demon was on top of her before she could grab it.

Sam grappled with the other demon, muscles trembling under the strain of keeping himself upright and not having his knife turned against him. The demon growled and wrenched him to the side, tossing him right through the porch railing. He landed in a pile of broken wood in the garden, but luckily with demon knife still in hand.

His attacker leaped at him, and Sam surged upright and thrust the blade between the demon's ribs. There was a scream and spritzing orange light.

Sam jerked his gaze back up to the porch where the female demon was bearing down on Amy, the angel dirk trapped between them and tip waffling between pointing at the demon—and pointing at Amy.

Sam's heart leaped into his throat. "No!"

Castiel dragged himself across the lawn toward where Ryn was laying dazed in the grass. His entire body was zinging with pain, micro spasms attacking his muscles, particularly in one leg where he'd landed at a bad angle. He'd lost his angel blade in the fall and had no idea where it went, leaving him unable to defend himself as the demon stalked after him, like a lion toying with its prey. Castiel grunted as he pulled himself along on his arms and stomach.

"Been a long time since I've seen an angel," the demon leered. He inhaled deeply, hungrily. "Yeah."

Castiel rolled over in time to see him reach up behind his head. The air shimmered as a spear materialized out of thin air.

The demon turned it over in his hands, silver tip aimed down and glinting in the moonlight. "Ah, but not long enough."

Castiel could do nothing as the demon jabbed the spear down and pierced his side. He cried out under the vicious crack of agony, a burning like being stabbed with dry ice. The moment the spear was wrenched back out, Castiel flipped over and continued trying to crawl away.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?" the demon teased, and then laughed. "Come on," he growled.

Castiel choked on a pained cry as searing fire ripped through him. Shock was shutting down part of his brain, because all he could think was he needed to get away. But this demon was unlike any he'd ever encountered.

Castiel started to collapse in the grass, glacial numbness attacking his limbs. His breaths were coming in sharp, short pants that made his vision blur. But he saw Ryn staggering to her feet and lunging to snatch up her katana from the ground. In an eye blink, flames whooshed up the blade and lit through her eyes. The demon paused in his stalking of Castiel to regard her.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Ryn leaped toward him, flaming sword slashing through the air to meet the spear. The two weapons collided with a clang. Then they broke apart and Ryn was swinging again. The demon danced aside and wielded his spear like a staff, blocking and parrying each attack Ryn threw at him. Almost like he was playing with her, too.

She spun under his swing and slashed at his exposed side, but he twisted away in time. Some of the amusement left his eyes, though, and he swung his spear around, striking once, twice, and finally shoving his entire body weight behind a blow that knocked Ryn off her feet and sent her crashing to the ground with a small cry. Her katana flew from her hand, its flames extinguishing.

The demon sneered and twirled his spear, angling the tip toward her. Castiel clenched his fists and tried to get up, to do something.

There was a sudden revving of an engine and familiar roar, and out of nowhere it seemed, the Impala came charging in like an onyx steed, ramming into the demon and sending him flying. Dean scrambled out of the car and ran to Castiel as Ryn pushed herself up and followed.

Dean's eyes widened as he reached for Castiel's arm. "Cas- shit."

"Where is he?" Castiel desperately asked as he was hauled to his feet. He frantically cast his gaze around, one leg buckling.

"I don't know," Dean said, barely looking and instead focusing on keeping Castiel from collapsing again.

No, they couldn't be caught unawares; the demon was too strong. Castiel grunted and tried to support himself, but he couldn't. His legs weren't responding. Hot blood was pumping out of his stomach and soaking his shirt, and something felt like it was shredding his insides where he'd been stabbed.

"Come on," Dean urged, slinging Castiel's arm over his shoulder.

Ryn ducked in on Castiel's other side to help brace him. There was no sign of the demon, but they apparently weren't going to wait around to see if he'd come back, and together she and Dean turned toward the nearby field, dragging Castiel into it. He tried to bite down on sounds of pain, but they still managed to tear their way out of his throat with each agonizing step.

"Where's Sam?" Ryn gasped out between harried breaths as they staggered across uneven soil, avoiding ruts and roots by the light of the moon.

"Some other demons crashed the party," Dean grunted. "He and Amy are taking care of them."

Castiel felt a thrill of fear. What if the demons were just like the first one? They needed to go back and help. But he could already tell he was fading fast. There was a throbbing in his belly and hitch in his lungs as his vessel stuttered to keep going. And his grace…was sputtering too.

A whole new terror filled Castiel at that.

There was a rickety barn up ahead, and Dean veered toward it. Castiel let out a strangled grunt as molten fire erupted in his side again.

"Hang on," Dean muttered, and kicked the barn door open.

Castiel choked on another pained sound as he was practically carried inside and deposited heavily on a ratty couch. The puff of sawdust in his face made him grimace, but not as much as the sheer agony in his side.

Ryn crouched down next to him, frantic eyes scanning his injuries. "Why aren't you healing?"

"I tried," he struggled to get out. "Something's wrong." He strained to raise his head enough to look down at his stomach, and picked at the hem of his shirt to lift it. But he couldn't see much through the dark blood still gushing between the jagged fissures in his flesh.

Ryn cursed in Russian and hastily shrugged out of her jacket. "Lift him," she directed to Dean.

Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulders and leaned him forward enough for Ryn to slip the jacket behind him. Castiel couldn't hold back a cry at the movement. His fingers, slick with blood, were shaking too much to grasp anything, and Dean easily moved them away from the wound as Ryn secured the makeshift tourniquet. Castiel gritted his teeth and choked as the fire exploded anew.

"I know, I'm sorry," Ryn said. But she tied the sleeves into a second knot and yanked them tight. Castiel's senses whited out for a few seconds.

They were recalled by a vibrating sound buzzing in the barn.

Dean dug his phone out of his pocket. "Sam."

Castiel's vision was starting to fade, and Ryn's worried face blurred before him, her mouth moving soundlessly. And then everything went dark.