Sam isn't sure when exactly he slipped into unconsciousness, but when he blinks himself awake, soft sunlight is pouring in through his window, the shadows of the bars dancing on the wall opposite the glass. Sam is curled up on his side, tucked under the blanket which is pulled up tightly under his chin. Something hard is wrapped around his one leg, slightly cooler than his skin, and a weird sensation is wrapped around each wrist and ankle. As the sleep slowly clears from Sam's mind, the memories of last night come crashing back in and he sits up rapidly, his blanket pooling around his waist. He looks at his arms to see the leather cuffs still sitting exactly where the angels had put them. He rips the blanket off of his legs to see the matching set on his ankles, and the chain that is attached to the left cuff wrapped around his leg. Sam glances quickly around the small room, though nothing else has changed from last night. Taking a slow, deep breath, and running a hand through his hair, Sam tries hard not to panic again. Yes, he might be trapped, but he isn't hurt. Dean isn't here, which means he has a rescue team coming for him. Sam refuses to consider the possibility that Dean might be captured himself or injured or… no. Nope. Not going down that road. Dean is fine, pissed probably, but physically okay, and he is coming for Sam. Sam just has to be patient, and hopefully not dig himself into a deeper hole than he is already in. So, figuring he might as well take advantage of the privacy while he has it, Sam untangles the chain from his leg and stands up, stretching out fully to ease some of the soreness and stiffness of his awkward sleeping position. Although, though it was far from the most restful sleep Sam has ever gotten, between the two small bed and the chain and cuffs, Sam realizes with a self-deprecating snort, it is also far from the worst ever sleep he has had, especially being in captivity. And how messed up is his life that he actually has a scale of the kind of rest he has been able to get while being held hostage by something or someone? Shaking his head, Sam stumbles his way over to the bathroom to take a piss, before turning to the sink, turning the tap all the way to make it as hot as possible while he washes his hands, soaking a rag once he is done and washing his face with it to wipe away the night's sweat. Normally he prefers to take a shower in the morning, preferably after a jog or a run to wake up fully, but since neither of those were options at the moment, he would make do. After washing up, and brushing his teeth, Sam grabs one of the sets of clothes, which had been kicked off of the bed sometime during the night, intending to change into something fresh. Might as well keep himself as strong and ready to go as possible, since Dean could burst in at any moment. If Sam was right, and Cas is going to use the blood moon to open a door to Purgatory, then Sam is guessing he is being kept somewhere in Bootbock Kansas, where the power of the eclipse will be strongest for harnessing for magic and spells. A slight pang hits Sam as he realizes this whole thing is definitely going to ruin his surprise for Dean, but Sam easily puts it aside. Right now he has to worry about the fate of the world, not a ruined night off for him and his brother. Besides, Dean hadn't known about it, so it isn't like he can be disappointed by their stargazing trip being cancelled. At least there is that. Refocusing his thoughts, Sam tries to visualize a map in his head, trying to judge the distance it would take to get here from Sioux Falls, seeing as they wouldn't be flying Air Angel, as Dean would put it. Sam would guess anywhere from six to eight hours tops, assuming they drove straight through. Although, Sam realizes anxiously, that is assuming they would know where to look for Sam. Cas had snatched him before he could tell Dean and Bobby about his theory on the blood moon, and the likelihood of Cas and Crowley using it. Of course, in telling them, he would have had to spoil his surprise for Dean, but that hadn't mattered in the moment. And it definitely didn't matter now. Sam didn't have his phone on him when he was taken, and he highly doubts his right to a phone call would be respected here. So even if he wanted to, and he really, really does, he has no way to tell Dean where he is being held. But, at the very least, Bobby and Dean are both way smarter than Sam. They would have noticed which book he had been reading, and Bobby had known what Sam was planning. They would be able to piece it together, assuming Cas left them alone after he had been taken. And Sam was assuming that, because there was no other acceptable possibility. Sam absentmindedly changes his shirts while he is lost in thought, but when he goes to take his jeans off, he remembers a small complication. The cuff on his ankle. Frowning, Sam glances at the door, remembering what Cas said about asking the angels for anything he needed, but he recoils at the idea of asking the angels to unchain him so he can change pants. It may be an innocent enough request, but there is something incredibly vulnerable about getting changed, and the last thing he wants to do is involve his captors in the process in any way. So he sighs, putting the clean jeans back on his bed and picking up the rest of the clothes off the floor, tossing them beside the jeans before he moves over to the table, studying the books. He has just picked up a well-loved copy of Macbeth, barely even starting to thumb through it, before something invisible jerks his wrists together. Startled, Sam drops the book and tries to back away, stumbling in his surprise as he realizes whatever force has grabbed him only seems to be affecting his wrists. He trips, landing on his ass as his arms are held out in front of him, and the chain dangling from one cuff attaches itself to the lock on the other, binding his wrists together once more. Sam tugs at the cuffs experimentally but once more they are as inescapable as they were last night, though at least this time they are bound in front of him, leaving him feeling slightly more secure and less vulnerable than he had been with them bound behind him. Sam barely has time to blink, to realize what has happened, before he hears a key turning in a lock nearby and he looks towards the door to his room, the metal squealing slightly as it is pulled open. Castiel walks into the room, a tray in his hands, closely followed by Crowley with nothing but his smug face and radiating sense of attitude and arrogance. Sam catches a brief glimpse of two unfamiliar faces outside in what looks like a normal, industrial hallway. Some kind of warehouse then, Sam thinks to himself, putting together the very few clues he has to his location. Most likely an abandoned one, and he is probably being held in the old administrative wing. And, judging by the view from his window, third floor at least. Looking at the two people in the hall, he can tell at once the angel, Esther Sam thinks, is woman with short, curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, her face impassive and rigidly controlled, her stance military straight. The other woman, leaning lazily against the wall with jet black hair and green eyes, must be the demon Crowley assigned to guard him. She catches Sam's eye and winks, smirking. Quickly, Sam turns his attention back to Cas.
"Good morning Sam." Cas says, a tentative smile on his face as he spots Sam, though he pauses, tilting his head. "Why are you on the ground? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Sam says gruffly, glaring at Crowley as he chuckles, and pushing himself quickly to his feet. "Can I help you with something?" He asks Crowley rudely. The King of Hell scoffs.
"Now, now Moose, no need for hostility. I just wanted to see how you are adjusting." Crowley says, his stern tone ruined by the sadistic grin on his face.
"Fabulously." Sam bites off. Cas frowns, glancing at Crowley before looking at Sam apologetically.
"I brought you some food, Sam. I thought you might be getting hungry." He says, gesturing to his tray. Sam glances at the angel, taking a deep voice and making an effort to soften his voice, and his expression. Infuriating and isolating Cas won't do anything to help himself.
"Thanks, Cas." Sam says softly. "That's great."
"Oh sure, the angel gets manners." Crowley mutters, sounding irritated. "All I get is sass and ingratitude."
"I told you already you weren't welcome in here." Cas scowls at the demon. "It isn't Sam's fault you chose not to listen to me."
"Careful Cas." Crowley is still smirking, but there is a subtle shift in his tone, it becoming quieter, but more dangerous. "If my feelings get hurt anymore, I am apt to become much less charitable than I have been thus far. My tongue might decide to loosen on certain secrets." Sam looks at the demon, confused and curious, and Cas looks downright furious. Crowley, meanwhile, looks extremely satisfied and turns to Sam. "As for you Moose, don't get too distressed. You won't be a damsel much longer. We have everything we need on our end in place, now we just need the right timing. And to dispose of a body, but that is simple enough." Sam watches a brief flare of grief, anger and guilt cross Cas' face and he frowns, worry starting to eat at him. Who did they kill? Does this have anything to do with the 'guest' that Crowley had mentioned last night? They had both referred to them as a "her" and a "she". Who had she been, and why was she dead now? Sam remembers the detached professionalism Cas had adopted last night, the coolness of someone about to do a probably horrible thing for what they think is a good cause, and he wonders just how much this mysterious person suffered at Cas and Crowley's hands before she was put out of her misery.
"You've seen Sam for yourself, Crowley." Cas says, trying to brush past Crowley's comment, and Sam frowns even more. Whatever is going on with the angel, Sam has an uncomfortable feeling that he is fast approaching the point of no return. Sam has to act now, quickly, if he wants to stop his friend from making the same kind of Lilith-killing mistake he made. "As you can see, bound like you requested."
"For what I settled for." Crowley corrects him, eyeing Sam with a nasty gleam in his eyes. "What I requested was a lot more fun. For me, anyways" Sam scowls, gritting his teeth as Cas steps protectively between him and Crowley.
"This is as much as you are getting." Cas says sternly. "Now leave. Sam needs to eat, and he won't do it with you around."
"Fine, fine. I need to go make sure our blood donation is keeping anyways, before we dump the body." Crowley departs the room with one more sneer at Sam, and Cas slams the door behind him, exhaling sharply in frustration, before he turns back to Sam, setting the tray of food on the table.
"I am sorry about him." Cas apologizes. Sam forces himself to smile weakly.
"Not your fault… demons are temperamental." Sam says carefully. Cas smiles drily.
"I would say you have no idea, but I believe you understand that better than anyone else. I have a new sense of empathy for you dealing with Ruby for so long, Sam." Cas admits. Ruby. What a perfect segue… Sam just has to handle it perfectly. The last thing he wants is for Cas to shut down, to shut him out. So, letting it go for the moment, Sam starts smaller.
"Do you… do you think you can, uh… take these off?" Sam asks, raising his hands. "Just while I eat. I appreciate you bringing me something, I don't want it to go to waste." Not to mention Sam can't risk getting fatigued from hunger, he needs strength right now, and as much mental clarity has he can get. He just has to trust that Cas won't resort to poisoning or drugging him. Cas looks at the cuffs regretfully.
"I can't, Sam. I am sorry. Crowley was adamant that if you are to remain here, you need to be bound when one of us is with you. Not unwarrantedly, he seems to think you may try to overpower one of us in an attempt to escape. Or to stop our efforts to open Purgatory." Sam frowns.
"Crowley isn't even here, Cas. And I wouldn't try to hurt you." Sam says. Cas smiles sadly.
"I know Sam. But Arelle, the demon he posted, can hear us, and she will report back to him if I set you free before I leave. And, if you are alright with it, I was hoping to stay for a while. To… explain things. I want you to understand why I am doing this. If you will agree to hear me out, that is. I know your brother has already dismissed anything I have to say, so I understand if you have as well…"
"No, Cas, I haven't dismissed you. Not at all." Sam hurries to reassure his friend. "I am sorry if I came off like I had, but… Cas, man, you have to see this from my perspective. You lied to us, used us, hid critical information from us and left us hanging more than once… than you just dump everything on us only when we force you to? And you kidnap me out of the blue, to strong arm Dean and Bobby into following your orders? Please, I want you to help me understand. I want you to explain it to me." Cas studies Sam, and Sam does his best to look as sincere as possible, which isn't hard. He really does want to understand, and he wants Cas to open up to him. If Dean had done that for Sam, maybe… well, maybe things would have been different. Something almost like relief, and gratitude, crosses Cas' face.
"Then please, sit. Eat, and I will do my best." Cas says, gesturing to the chair, before moving to sit on the bed, which makes Sam think of one more small thing to maybe help build that trust with Cas.
"Wait, uh, first things first, Cas…" Sam hesitates, blushing lightly, but forcing himself to continue despite his embarrassment. "I, uh… was trying to change earlier, but uh…" Sam shakes his leg, the chain rattling from the cuff and Cas' eyes flicker to it, confusion in his eyes before the understanding hits.
"Oh." His eyes widen and he immediately crouches, uncuffing the chain from the cuff before standing and offering Sam the same set of jeans he had picked up earlier, and a clean pair of boxers. "I am sorry, Sam, I didn't think… if you change quickly, it should be fine… would you like me to turn away?" Sam nods gratefully, and Cas turns his back on Sam. Moving quickly, Sam kicks off his boots, strips off his bottom layers and replaces them as fast as humanly possible with cuffed hands, and puts his boots back on.
"Thanks Cas." Sam says, and Cas takes the cue, turning back around and fastening the chain back to his ankle cuff. Sam stays still, not fighting like he wants to, or grabbing the angel trying to shake some sense into him, but letting Cas do what he has to. Cas stands up, smiling at Sam, and Sam tries to return it, before sitting at his table. Cas sits on Sam's bed, and Sam lifts the lid off the tray, smiling softly. Peanut butter and jam sandwiches sit on a plate, cut into triangles with the crusts cut off, exactly the way Dean used to do for him. A bottle of water stands beside the food, with a small slice of apple pie.
"Dean told me once that this was your favorite food as a child." Cas says, hesitant and Sam thinks he even sounds a little bit nervous. "He told me he would make it for you if you were ever sad or scared. And I know pie makes Dean happy, so I thought you might like some to. I was going to bring you a beer, but I thought you would prefer water, to keep your mind clear and focused." Sam looks up to see that, yes, Cas looks nervous. Sam smiles, a broader, more genuine smile than before. He doesn't bother telling Cas that he doesn't share his brother's obsession with pie, and he definitely doesn't tell him that the reason Sam loved PB and J so much was because often it was the only food they had available as kids, when money ran tight, or out altogether. Dean made it when Sam was sick or scared because it was usually the only food he could scrape together while keeping an eye on Sam. Sam loved it so much, not because of what it was, but because it came from Dean, it was evidence of Dean loving, and taking care of Sam. But none of that matters, because, in his own way, Sam can see that Cas is trying to take care of him as well.
"Thank you Castiel." Sam says gratefully, pouring as much emotion into his voice as he can. The nervousness in the angel's face disappears, and a warmth that has been missing recently from Cas appears. For the first time in a long time, Cas looks like the angel who Sam had befriended and fought beside. Fought for.
"You are very welcome Sam." Cas replies, with warmth and kindness in his voice. And then, with a deep breath, his eyes harden slightly. "I suppose I should start at the beginning… I will try to keep away from anything that might be triggering for you Sam, but-" Cas suddenly leaps to his feet mid-sentence, his eyes widening.
"Cas?" Sam asks anxiously, leaning forward. Before the angel can respond, the building starts to shake, a loud, low rumbling noise emitting from somewhere deep in the building. Fear and fury mingle on Cas' expression, just as the screaming and yelling starts. Sam leaps to his feet, confused as a sudden high pitched, screeching noise starts echoing through the room. Gasping in pain and doubling over, Sam raises his hands to try and cover his ears, barely managing to with them currently bound the way they are. And, oddly enough, as the pitch increases, and pain scorches its way through his eardrums, Sam begins to pick up the faintest hint of… words? They sound like words, but they aren't in any language Sam knows… wait. Maybe they are, because a moment later he realizes he can in fact understand what is being said, if 'being said' really actually describes what is happening.
"Find the blood. Bring it to me." Every syllable trembles with power and authority, and Sam isn't altogether shocked to find something wet starting to leak from his ears at the intensity and… strength behind the sentences. When he pulls his hands back from his ears, as the high, ringing pitch dissipates as quickly as it started, the red on his hands confirms his theory that his ears had started to bleed. And then terror courses through Sam, because he knows, with every cell in his body, that he just heard Enochian. And, he understood it. Cas looks sharply at Sam, and Sam meets his gaze anxiously, reading the suspicion and worry there.
"What blood, Cas?" Sam asks weakly, the pain in his head not lessening now that the source of it is gone. If anything, the ache is only building, growing stronger until it feels like Sam's head is being sliced open. Unable to bear it, Sam falls to his knees, trying to hold his head in his hands. Still, Sam forces his eyes up to Cas' grim, anxious expression as Sam's question confirms what Cas must have been suspecting. Before Cas can answer, another force rocks through their building and the entire room around them shakes with it. Sam cries out as he is jarred, throwing his hands out to catch himself as he tilts dangerously forward.
"I'll explain when I get back." Cas says sharply.
"No, wait, Cas!" Sam yells, but it is too late. With a flap of his wings, Cas is gone, leaving Sam still trapped in his room, still chained to the bed, still uselessly bound and unable to defend himself, even if his brain wasn't currently spontaneously combusting into absolute agony. Ice cold fear and dread, both new and… old, remembered, washes through Sam and he swears he can actually feel the cracking of his wall, like the Enochian words had been a battering ram striking at the foundation of it. Glimpses of darkness, of freezing air and scorching flames slip through Sam's mind and he struggles to push them back, to not see. Groaning, Sam digs his hands into the carpet, shaking his head desperately to ground himself in the present. He can't look to closely, he can't acknowledge the horrors starting to escape into his consciousness. The ghost of pain floods his system, tingling through his limbs, soaking into his muscles. Cutting, slicing, pounding pain. The agony in his head only gets worse, changing from a burning pain to a crushing one, as if his skull is collapsing in on itself. "No." Sam gasps. This can't be happening. His wall can't be falling, not now. He needs to stop Cas and Crowley, he needs to hold himself together for Dean. Dean has fought so hard to keep Sam safe from his memories, he can't let Dean down now. More screams echo around Sam, though he can't tell if they were coming from the floor below him, down the hall, or right outside the door. Curses and swears join the calamity, and Sam whimpers, rubbing his forehead to try and ease his torment even slightly, his entire body starting to shudder as his heart races and his breathing becomes heavy and labored. "Focus, Sam." He tells himself angrily. Desperately, He can't fall to pieces, not now. And then, finally, he hears a fluttering sound and curses from right outside the door. Sam grabs onto the noises like a life preserver, clinging to the distraction as if it is the only thing that stands between him and death. Maybe it is. There is the briefest sound of a scuffle, of grunts and screams before the thudding of what Sam knows from experience can only come from bodies collapsing. And then his door is being blasted open, so hard the metal flies inwards, slamming into the desk. Only instinct and years of training allows Sam to move quick enough to roll out of the way of danger, as the wooden desk behind him shatters into pieces, food and books being sent flying from the force of the door collapsing onto the furniture. Blinking hard to focus and tuning out the sheer agony flooding through his body with a healthy dose of adrenaline to help him, Sam turns back towards the door, to see two beings step into the space. Angels, Sam guesses immediately, but not friendly angels. If you can call Cas' followers friendly. Past them, Sam sees the corpses of the angel and the demon that Cas and Crowley had posted to guard him. Sam forces his eyes back to the new threat, sitting back on his heels, not yet ready to return to his feet as dizziness and nausea and pain sweep through him, but refusing to bow before the newcomers. Both angels, or at least their vessels, are female. One is wearing a light grey suit, a silver angel blade in her hand, with bronze hair pulled tightly into a bun and blue-grey eyes peering smugly, but cautiously around the small space. She seems to be standing slightly behind the other, as if in deference to them. So, the lackey then. Sam turns his attention to the higher ranking angel. Wearing the vessel of a pretty, dark skinned woman with short black hair framing a calm, focused face, with dark eyes peering out directly at Sam, he can't help but feel like this angel is different. All angels radiate divinity and strength, but there is a power and presence and authority just in being to this angel that Sam has only seen in three other angels before. And once again terror threatens to overwhelm him. It courses through him, driving his heart rate even higher and he has to struggle to remember to breathe. "Raphael." Sam whispers. He, or she, or they give him the smallest of smiles, though their eyes remain detached, neutral.
"Sam Winchester." Raphael replies. "I've been looking for you." Sam frowns, confused and pissed. That makes four for four archangels wanting to mess with Sam, and he was getting sick of it.
"Well you found me. Congratulations. Want a medal?" Sam spits out, the fury and the fear making him reckless, but he can't find it in himself to care. Thanks to Cas, Sam is trapped. He couldn't fight his way out against a human enemy at the moment, let alone two angels, one of whom is an archangel. Raphael's tiny smile disappears.
"I see your time with my brothers hasn't improved your manners." They say coolly, before looking at the other angel. "Take him." Sam scrambles backwards as the angel moves forward to obey, stashing away her angel blade in the process, but of course there is nowhere for him to go. With a wave of the angel's hand, the chains holding him to the bed snap apart and she bends down, grabbing his arm with a grip like iron, dragging him to his feet. Before Sam can do anything more then weakly try to pull himself free, the wind rushes around him and in a second he is standing out in the fresh air. He blinks against the sudden harsh light of the sun, raising his eyes to cover them while he tries to adjust to his new surroundings. The sound of a city hit his ears, and as he starts to regain his vision, he sees that he is standing on a hill, overlooking a small industrial park . The hill, made of gravel and stones more than tufts of grass, spills steeply down towards the parking lot of one warehouse in particular, blocked off by a fence about a quarter of the way down. Sam can hear the sounds of a highway somewhere close by, the sounds of traffic carrying over the open space, and he can see the other factories and warehouses in the park surrounded by cars, and roads filled with people driving to and from their jobs. Around the building that Sam can only assume had held him, he sees a couple of bodies laying next to the entrances, and more angels in grey suits guarding the entrances, waiting for the angels and demons from inside that are trying to flee. Angels and demons on both sides fall in the ensuing battles. Thanks to John Winchester's intensive and extensive training, Sam is able to pick up on all of these details in a few seconds, gathering everything of importance and filtering out the rest, before he turns to the angel holding him. He drops, startling the angel who clearly wasn't expecting resistance, and he sweeps out her legs, catching her off guard. Even as she falls, he is leaping back up and taking off down the road that leads to this vantage point. He is expecting her next move, to use her wings to appear ahead of him in an attempt to head him off, so when she does exactly that, he is already diving towards the side, ready to sprint around her. What he hadn't counted on was for her to have reinforcements, and instead of diving into open space, he plows straight into another angel, which of course feels like slamming into a solid marble statue. No doubt bruised to hell, Sam crumples to the ground, dazed, even as a third angel appears behind him, these two new comers both in male vessels and both not hesitating to grab Sam's feet and haul him back to his feet, only tightening their grip once he is solidly planted on his feet again. Another set of rustling wings announced Raphael's return, and Sam, despite the futility of it, struggles against his new captors, trying to rip his way free of their restraining hands. Raphael raises an eyebrow at the female.
"He was uncooperative." She explains.
"That is to be expected, Naomi. He is wild and insolent, like Lucifer." Raphael says dismissively. Sam scowls at the comparison, even as a new kind of fear trickles through him. He knows the name Naomi. She had been one of the angels that he and Bobby had managed to find some lore on during their research, none of it good, especially for him. Raphael strides away from them, peering over at the warehouse, and Naomi moves to his right hand side, the other two manhandling Sam to turn to face the same direction.
"Is Castiel dead?" One of the males holding Sam asks, and a jolt of dread goes through him. No, no, Cas can't be dead.
"No." Raphael says, and Sam has to fight back the sigh of relief. "He will be dealt with soon enough, but not yet. As long as Barthalomew accomplishes his goal of retrieving the beast's blood, he will no longer pose enough of a threat to warrant immediate extermination. Besides, we have what we came for." Dread and panic start to replace Sam's fear and anger as the archangel speaks. What does he mean, beast's blood? Is that the blood he was speaking of when the invasion began? And why is he suddenly after Sam? The last time they had met, Raphael had threatened to kill him and Dean. Hadn't he? To be honest, the memory was sort of confusing, considering he and Dean had been thrown into and then roughly retrieved from Bizarro World, where they were tv actors who apparently never spoke to each other. Not that it mattered. Not once has it ever worked out in Sam's favor when an archangel wanted something from him. "Oh. Isn't this a surprise." Something like glee enters Raphael's voice and he glances back at Sam. Immediately wariness grips Sam, followed by utter horror as he hears what Raphael must have picked up earlier with his superior angel hearing. An old, comforting rumbling that is as familiar to Sam as his own name fills the empty air. Sam's eyes dart to the parking lot as a beautiful black car speeds into it, drifting around a corner. Thought too far away to make out any details, Sam knows in his bones who the two figures are that leap out of the car the moment it is parked. He opens his mouth to scream, not even knowing if his voice will carry from this far away, but before he has a chance, Raphael throws out his hand. And even though the sky is completely clear, with not even a whisp of white to cover the deep blue, the hairs on Sam's skin rise, as a thick scent of ozone fills the air, followed by an unnerving, anxiety inducing crackle. And then the largest, brightest bolt of lightning Sam has ever seen strikes from the stormless atmosphere, crashing directly into the middle of the warehouse. The white of the blast is so bright Sam squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head, but it is all encompassing, utterly blinding Sam. The force is so strong that even as far away as they are on this precipice, the ground rumbles and Sam would for sure have stumbled, if not fallen entirely, if not for the angels bracing him on either side. Heat washes over Sam's skin, uncomfortable and static-y, raising every single hair on his entire body, although not quite enough to burn or even singe him at this distance. Not that Sam cares all that much about himself at the moment. Blinking hard to clear the whiteness and the starbursts from his eyes, Sam struggles to get his vision back, as he hears soft chuckling from the archangel nearby. Finally his sight clears and Sam immediately takes in the now burning building, that is half collapsing as he watches, angels and demons crawling from the destroyed building like ants. Cas will be fine, Sam tells himself anxiously. It takes more than lightning to hurt an angel. Assuming that Raphael's lightning was the same as natural bolts that is. But there is a more pressing issue, and Sam's eyes move immediately to the two bodies laying on the ground near the impala. No, not bodies, Sam tells himself forcefully. People. The two people. The two most important people in Sam's life. The two people who seem to have been thrown back by the blast wave. Get up, Sam pleads silently as he stares at them. Get up, please get up. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Dean and Bobby start to move, and Sam can't hide the sigh of relief this time, he can't help but feel the crushing weight of potential grief lift off of his shoulders. Thankfully, the angels holding him seem too distracted to care about him at the moment.
"Our own angels were in there." One of the men says hesitantly. Raphael shrugs.
"They had enough time to complete the mission by now. Besides, assuming they can handle Castiel and his rebels, they should be fine. The important thing is this mess should keep Castiel and that cockroach King of Hell busy for a while." Raphael says ruthlessly, his eyes flickering to the parking lot. "And the other Winchester as well." He spins back towards Sam, who swallows nervously as the angel approaches him. Part of Sam is anxious, wondering if Dean will think Sam got caught up in that blast, and what he might do if he does. But the rest of Sam can only feel a horrible sense of dread for what is about to happen to him as Raphael stops only a few feet from his face. "I think it is time for you and I to have a chat, Samuel. Bring him." He orders. And once again, for what Sam sincerely hopes is the very last time in his life, Sam is spirited away on Angel Air, leaving the warehouse, and more importantly his family, behind.