A/N: Thank you guests for the reviews! And to Guest Melissa, I'm glad you decided to take a leap and continue past Ch. 4. =) Don't worry, the story's almost over, just one more chapter after this.

Chapter 8

Castiel stared at the concrete floor, watching ripples of water run and wash away the blood stains. Wasn't it supposed to be the opposite? That blood washed away one's sins? Castiel wished absolution could come so easily for him, but he was under no illusions. It didn't matter that everything he had done had been in pursuit of an ideal he thought to be right. First by obeying Heaven's orders, then by standing with Dean Winchester and supporting humanity's right to freewill. But what had it been for in the end?

Cold water splashed his pants when the demon hosing down the floor sprayed too close, but Castiel paid him no mind. He didn't fear the demon disobeying Lucifer's command to leave him alone, and so he simply focused on the water slurping toward a drain in the corner, his thoughts running as wildly as the waves. Castiel would never join Lucifer, no matter what, but he couldn't ignore the truth of the Devil's words to him. Where was God? Did their father truly not care about what was happening? About what Heaven had become in his name? If God didn't care, what was Castiel fighting for?

The Winchesters, he realized. Why he'd chosen them over his own family, Castiel couldn't quite wrap his head around, but there it was. He would defend them to his dying breath. Even if they despised him. Still, the crushing weight of knowing that he'd been abandoned by everyone he ever cared about was like a physical vice squeezing his ribs. The pain made it difficult for him to draw breath, particularly with the chains wrapped around his chest. Weariness dragged him down, and he found himself wishing Lucifer would just get it over with and put Castiel out of his misery.

When the air whomped and a concussive force reverberated through the ground, he barely noticed. The demon dropped the hose with a clatter, however, and bolted from the alcove, leaving the water to continue gushing from the nozzle and slosh against Castiel's shoes. Shouts went up outside, and Castiel finally lifted his head. Demons were running past, yelling about an attack. Another explosion punctuated the declaration.

Castiel straightened. Could Heaven be making a move? But the only reason they would do that was if Michael had… No, Castiel refused to believe Dean had said yes to the archangel. He wouldn't do that. But…if he believed Sam was lost forever, if he feared the younger Winchester would succumb to the Devil's influence, then Dean might do the unthinkable.

Castiel wished his grace wasn't locked down so tight; he desperately wanted to know what was happening, if angels truly were laying siege to the building. If so, and they found him like this…well, he wouldn't have to watch the world be destroyed. It would be a mercy, really, if they made it quick. His heart lurched with a new fear—what if it was Michael who found him? What if the archangel walked through that opening wearing Dean's face? For some reason, Castiel couldn't bear the thought of Dean's hand being the one to execute him. Even if it wasn't truly the Winchester, Lucifer's words echoed as a taunt in his mind; knowing what Castiel had done to Sam, Dean would have every right to kill him. And why did that fill him with more anguish than the idea of one of his actual siblings doing it?

Castiel tugged uselessly against the manacles. At the very least, he wanted to make sure Sam was spared. The young man hadn't said yes to Lucifer yet; there was no reason for the angels to kill him. But it had been a long time since angels had exercised mercy.

Scuffling sounded from outside. "He's in there!" someone shouted.

Castiel tensed, prepared to meet his doom in whatever form it came. His hopes plummeted when Dean Winchester swept through the archway, one hand fisted in a demon's shirt collar, the other holding the Colt to the shorter man's head. Righteous fury smoldered in green irises, casting a glimpse of something volatile underneath. An archangel's wrath was absolute. Castiel braced for Michael's attention to narrow on him, pulse fluttering erratically in his throat. Dread quickly morphed into confusion, however, as Sam strode in behind Dean, and Castiel found himself holding his breath. But, if the boys were together, that would mean…

"See? Your angel's right there." The demon gestured frantically, eyes wide with fear. He already sported a split cheekbone and bloody lip.

Dean's eyes quickly moved from his captive to take in Castiel's appearance, and there was no angelic burn in them, only the pure essence of Dean—raw determination and reckless bravado. The hunter's eyes darkened on Castiel, and for a second, the angel was afraid Dean already knew, that Sam had told him of Castiel's transgressions. But the cold voice Dean spoke with next didn't seem to be directed at him.

"Sam?" he queried with just the right inflection that Castiel had come to recognize as holding hidden meaning, which only another Winchester seemed to be able to understand.

Without a word, Sam stepped up behind the captive and rammed the demon killing knife into his heart. A strangled cry gurgled in his throat, amber flashes illuminating the demonic skeleton within. Dean let the man drop to the ground to splash in the standing water. Then he and Sam sloshed through the puddle toward Castiel.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asked, gaze roving over him once more before narrowing on Castiel's neck where the thin slice from the angel blade dully ached.

Castiel could only stare, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Both Winchesters, alive, unharmed, not possessed by one of his brothers, and apparently looking for him. It defied all logic.

"Why are you here?" he blurted.

"We're getting you out," Dean replied with a 'well duh' tone. But something like hurt flashed in Sam's eyes, which sent a pang through Castiel's heart. So the slim chance that Lucifer had been lying was wrong. Sam felt betrayed. And Dean obviously didn't know. If he did, they wouldn't be here.

"You should go," Castiel said hoarsely. "While there's still time."

"No," Sam interjected with a steeliness Castiel had only ever heard when the young man had been ardently defending his brother. Surprise caused him to look up and meet the Winchester's eyes, only this time the anguish in Sam's face held something more than blame, something Castiel couldn't decipher. Sam's jaw stiffened and he nodded with a promise. "Not without you."

Castiel blinked in bewilderment, feeling ashamed that he had ever doubted the purity of Sam Winchester's heart. Even after everything, he wouldn't take revenge. Not by cruelly leaving him here.

Dean tugged at the shackle on Castiel's right wrist. "Don't suppose they left the key just lying around?"

"I imagine Lucifer has it. But my angel blade is in the corner, and might be strong enough to break the chains at least." He thrust his chin the general direction, and Sam turned to go retrieve it. When he came back, he frowned at the drops of dried blood on the tip, then at Castiel's neck.

"Did Lucifer…?"

"Demons," Castiel clarified, and rolled his shoulder awkwardly. "Actually, they…would have done worse if Lucifer hadn't intervened. He had commanded I wasn't to be harmed."

Dean snorted under his breath. "Let's not go thanking the Devil for small kindnesses."

Sam winced at that, for some reason, but quickly shook it off and inserted the angel blade into a link between the cuffs and chains.

Dean eyed the ones across Castiel's chest with an intensity as though he could melt them off with his gaze. "These binding sigils?"

"My name. I'm…powerless under them."

"Okay, just give us a minute."

Castiel wanted to argue they might not have that long, that the boys should just go. Yet another part of him didn't really want to be left weak and vulnerable to the machinations of his brother once Lucifer discovered Sam had escaped. Though the success of that remained to be seen.

With a crack, Sam managed to snap one of the chain links, and Castiel's left arm dropped free. He attempted to shake feeling back into it while Sam passed Dean the blade to tackle the other manacle. Another wrench, and Castiel could move both hands again, though the sudden blood flow back into his fingers ignited dozens of bee-like stings in his digits. He gritted his teeth as his coat sleeves brushed over raw and jagged flesh. He caught Sam's pinched expression trained on his wrists, and quickly looked away.

Dean worked the angel sword on the lock holding the chains across Castiel's torso, and in another moment, they fell away. Castiel's grace flared in the sudden release, and the pain in his hands and neck eased slightly. He was still weak from his captivity, but no longer helpless.

"We should go," he said.

"Can you zap us out of here?" Dean asked.

Castiel's brow furrowed in concentration, and he tentatively tested his wings. With his grace locked down by the sigiled chains, he hadn't had a chance to heal them from the brush with holy fire, and the singed feathers quivered under the slightest extension. He could probably make it a short distance—though it'd be agonizing—but not with passengers.

"No," he said regretfully. He couldn't bring himself to meet their gazes; the Winchesters had risked their lives to free him, and he couldn't even pay them back to make it worth their while.

"If you need a minute…" Dean offered with a wary glance over his shoulder.

Castiel shook his head. "My wings are…slightly damaged."

Dean shot him a startled look then, and Sam suddenly looked ill.

"From the demons?" the younger Winchester asked, and the horror in his voice oddly touched Castiel. After everything, why did Sam still seem to care about him? Maybe Lucifer was wrong about the young man.

"No. They're burned."

Sam sucked in a small breath, and this time Dean's complexion took on a green tinge. The older Winchester cleared his throat. "Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way." Dean handed Castiel the angel blade, then raised the Colt and started toward the arch. The space immediately outside was clear, and Dean nodded for them to go left. "Crowley's distraction was on the other side of the plant," he explained, and Castiel was surprised to hear the Crossroads demon had been involved in this escape plan. "But I haven't heard any explosions in a while, so he's probably flown the coop already. Let's hope no one comes back yet."

Dean's hope proved false as they rounded a steam generator and came face to face with two demons. Dean whipped the Colt up to fire, but the closest demon managed to grab his arm and wrench it sideways. Sam leaped in to help his brother, brandishing the demon killing knife.

Castiel surged toward the second demon, shoving both palms into his chest and propelling him back into a piece of machinery. His back collided with a pipe, which buckled under the impact, and steam spewed forth from one end, catching the demon across the cheek. He howled and jerked away, shooting his hands up to cover his face. Castiel planted one hand over the demon's head, summoning forth the power to smite the vile creature from existence. Only nothing happened.

Castiel gaped in stupefaction. He felt his grace push with the need to obey, yet the power to banish evil came from Heaven, and Castiel was cut off.

The demon lashed out, trapping Castiel's sword arm between his elbow and hip. Through blistering red skin, the demon leered and arched an arm back to deliver a heavy blow. But then Sam darted in and stabbed the demon, who fell lax in Castiel's arms.

Dean stumbled over, looking no more worse for wear; the other demon lay crumpled on the floor a few feet away. "Dude, what the hell?"

Castiel's mouth thinned into a tight line. "It seems I…can't smite demons anymore." The knowledge and admission rankled him; he had lost more than he'd thought. Again.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, but didn't comment further. Instead, the three of them continued making their way to the exit. They almost made it too, but then Castiel staggered to a stop as an all too familiar presence filled the space ahead of them. "Wait—"

Dean glanced over his shoulder, just as Lucifer stepped into their path. Sam skidded to a halt, and Dean barreled into him because of it. Both brothers teetered as they fought to regain balance, and then they were inching backward. The Devil's forbidding bearing seemed to billow out much further than the mere size of his vessel, like some invisible, malevolent mantle.

"Well, I must say this is somewhat of a surprise." Lucifer's eyes narrowed on Dean, annoyance flashing across his mottling face.

Castiel twirled his angel blade upright and put himself between the Winchesters and archangel. Lucifer was blocking the door, but Castiel only needed to keep him busy so the boys could escape.

Lucifer roved his gaze over the angel blade in mild amusement. "So I take it you won't be accepting my gracious offer?"

Castiel lifted his chin. "I found my third option."

"You mean death."

As it was always meant to be. Castiel had died once already. Either his being brought back was a mistake, or to fulfill this purpose once more. He was a soldier, fighting for goodness and humanity. No one could take that from him, not Lucifer, not his family. It was a sacrifice worth making. "So be it."

"Cas…" Dean said in warning, but cut off as a silver angel sword appeared in Lucifer's hand.

"Sam, Dean, run." Castiel launched himself at Lucifer, and the clang of celestial blades rang out in a series of discordant screeches. Lucifer parried the first thrust, and swiped at Castiel's abdomen. Castiel ducked under the archangel's swing and spun around to slash at Lucifer's back. The archangel, however, had full use of his wings, and disappeared in a fluttering rush, only to reappear a few feet behind Castiel, who barely felt the tingle of power materialize at his back in time to pivot away.

"What do you hope to accomplish here, Castiel?" Lucifer said. "Even if you escape, I'll find Sam again eventually." He lunged, and this time his blade arced across Castiel's arm, leaving behind a gash of pulsing grace and splatter of blood.

Castiel gritted his teeth and danced out of the way. His arm burned from the divine alloy cutting down to his true form, but he ignored it. He'd managed to get Lucifer on his other side now, leaving the exit wide open for the Winchesters. But one glance told Castiel they were still there.

"Dean," he growled. "Get Sam out of here."

Dean stood frozen, one hand clutching Sam's elbow and looking torn, whereas Sam had a defiant gleam in his eyes.

"Well," Lucifer drawled. "Isn't this touching. Maybe they want to watch you die. And isn't that why you're willing to sacrifice yourself like this? Trying to atone for your sins, Castiel?"

"Cas, what he told you before isn't true!" Sam shouted, distracting him. How was that relevant? And how could the younger Winchester even know the nature of his 'conversations' with Lucifer. Besides, his brother hadn't really lied. Why wouldn't the boys just go?

Lucifer's lips curled upward. "Or maybe Sam wants to stay."

Castiel brandished his blade. Lucifer slashed in response, and Castiel feinted left, willingly taking another slice across his ribs so he could twist and swipe at Lucifer. The tip of his blade scored along the archangel's cheek, drawing a thin line of bright blue mixed with red.

Lucifer staggered back in shock, and slowly lifted two fingers to the split skin. They came away smeared with crimson. Molten fury erupted in his eyes, and with a flap of invisible wings, he flew forward in a whoosh of power and feathers. White-hot lightning speared Castiel's chest as Lucifer's sword plunged through coat, flesh, and muscle. Castiel barely raised his own blade in time to catch the hilt before the archangel's weapon could pierce all the way down to his heart. The blades grated along each other, trembling with the force of resistance.

"Cas!" one of the brothers shouted, but Castiel couldn't tell which. His ears were roaring from the rush of blood, and the fire in his chest threatened to burn him out in an explosive punch if that sword gained even half an inch.

Lucifer reached up his other hand to pinch the back of Castiel's neck. "Your rejection grieves me, brother, as much as what I'm about to do does."

Stars burst across Castiel's vision, blurred by the flare of power wafting from the archangel mere inches from his face. Please go, he silently pleaded to Sam and Dean. His arm quivered, rapidly losing strength. All he had to do was let go, and it would all be over.

A thunderous report cracked the air, and Lucifer jerked. The pressure trying to plunge the blade completely into Castiel's chest lifted, letting him slip off. Stumbling under a wave of dizziness, Castiel nevertheless took that split moment to slide his own sword up and out. Lucifer's blade flew from his fingers and clattered across the floor.

Lucifer clutched his shoulder, and just to the side stood Dean, Colt raised and smoking in his hand. The Devil's face twisted with barely concealed wrath. "Ow. Haven't we already covered this, boys?" He straightened, and the bullet hole in his flesh gradually melded back together. With a flick of his wrist, Castiel felt a force slam into his chest and toss him back against the machinery. He grunted at the impact, wings flaring painfully as they tried to catch his fall when he hit the concrete.

"You know what, Dean," Lucifer spoke, deceptively calm. "It seems you are the common obstacle to all my plans…"

A/N: Think I can pull another Hail Mary out of my hat? ;)