Sam is reeling. Bobby is burying himself under a mountain of ancient books, tomes, and maps of every kind- topographical, climate, time zone, state maps for half a dozen states, federal maps from as current as last year to ones that look to Sam to have been printed in the early nineteen hundreds. And Dean is drinking. Ever since the three of them had returned to Bobby's from their demon hunt, from trapping Castiel and forcing him to finally confess to what the hell he had been doing this past year, two days ago, Dean hadn't been further than a foot from a bottle of some kind. Beer, whisky, rum… any and all kinds of alcohol seem to suffice at the moment, and neither Bobby nor Sam have had the energy or the inclination to try and stem Dean's seemingly unquenchable thirst. Hell, Bobby has also seemed to acquire a seemingly bottomless whisky glass, tucked just beside one of the heavy, dusty looking books he is pouring over currently. But Sam… Sam is pretty sure anything he tries to drink would just come right back up. Ever since Cas confessed that he was the one who raised Sam from the Cage, and he wouldn't give a straight answer to Sam demanding to know if that had been on purpose, Sam's stomach has been twisting itself in and out of tight, aching knots of nausea. Guilty people often redirect from tough questions, by asking questions of their own. Just like Cas did, Sam thinks to himself, pain and guilt flaring inside of him. Pain at the idea that Cas, the same Cas Sam had gone to Hell for, who fought side-by-side with the Winchesters, who rebelled against Heaven for them, could have purposefully set Sam loose on the world, without a soul to guide him, to inhibit his worst impulses. And guilt, for even thinking Cas would be capable of doing that in the first place. Cas was Sam's friend, his family. Surely… surely, Cas didn't actually know he was letting a soulless version of Sam out of the cage. Right? He couldn't have known. And yet… is that so far out of the realm of possibility? Compared to everything else Cas has done this year? Making a deal with Crowley, lying to Sam and Dean about it, tricking Sam and Dean into thinking Crowley was dead in order to protect Crowley, letting Crowley use them as his personal flying monkeys… all in the name of the greater good, of course. All of it to stop Raphael from re-starting the Apocalypse. So Cas says. And there is the guilt again, rising it's ugly head inside Sam once more, because there was a time where Sam would have believed Cas when he said that, no questions asked. Now… now how is Sam supposed to trust anything Cas says? All that time… a year of running loose with nobody but Samuel to guide him on what was right or wrong, months of posing a danger to Dean, to Bobby, to everyone within arm's reach of Sam, of searching for answers and not understanding, and Cas had lied, over and over again, about everything. How Sam got back, what was wrong with him, why he was even brought back in the first place. Was it because Cas was trying to save Sam from Lucifer? Or was it so he and Crowley could have a weapon, a soulless droid to send out to hunt monsters and alpha's for them, no questions asked? Sam just doesn't know, and it kills him to think that his friend, his brother in so many ways, could have used him like that. The way Lucifer did, and Lilith, and Ruby, and Azazel and even his own father. A soldier, to be whipped into shape and manipulated and ordered around and controlled. Feeling tears spring to his eyes, Sam leaps to his feet from where he had been sitting on Bobby's old, worn couch, his breathing start to speed up as his heart starts to race and Sam recognizes the first warning signs of an imminent panic attack. So do Dean and Bobby, it seems, as they both look up at Sam's sudden movement.
"Sammy?" Dean asks, a slight slur to his otherwise concerned, worried voice and he struggles to straighten up from where he has been slouching in a chair at Bobby's dining room table, to be closer to the beer stocked fridge.
"Son, you okay?" Bobby asks, and he at least is much more sober, straightening up with ease from his research, his voice gruff with concern of his own. Sam trembles, shaking his head as he fights back the rising bile in his throat, and before either his brother or his surrogate father can say another word, Sam darts across the living room turned library and into the hall, throwing up the door to Bobby's first floor bathroom and flinging himself down in front of the toilet. He just barely makes it in time before he starts retching, his stomach struggling to find something to dispel from his system. A struggle made harder thanks to Sam's utter lack of appetite or even thirst over the last few days. Still, it cramps forcefully, painfully, until Sam manages to spit up stomach bile, coughing and hugging his midsection as he does so. Heavy boots on the wooden floor signal two sets of footprints following him and he feels Dean's and Bobby's presence leaning over him, but it is Dean's hand Sam feels on his back, rubbing soothing circles through Sam's flannel as Sam struggles to breathe through his heaving and retching.
"Take it easy Sammy." Dean murmurs, and there is no slur to his words anymore, no wavering in Dean's solid, steady presence by Sam's side. Sam almost smiles, because somethings never change, and one of those things is just how fast Dean can sober up when Sam is sick or hurt. "Just breathe. That's it… let it out." Finally, finally, the knot in Sam's stomach eases, and the cramping muscles relax, and Sam sits back, taking deep, heavy breaths. Sam glances up to see Bobby move away, while Dean looks down with a soft, patient smile, though it doesn't reach his heavy, guarded eyes. Sam closes his eyes, leaning back against the tub, as Bobby's footsteps return and he looks up again to see Bobby offering him a glass of water.
"Thanks." Sam says, his voice rough and ragged from the vomiting spell, and he reaches a shaky hand out, taking the glass and quickly draining half of it in one gulp.
"Easy." Bobby warns. "Don't want that coming back up."
"What happened?" Dean asks gently, as Sam continues to sip at the water, but much slower now, Bobby's warning hitting home. The last thing he wants is a repeat performance. "Are you feeling sick?" Dean raises a hand to check Sam's forehead for any sign of fever, but Sam gently bats it away.
"No. Not… not really. I was just… thinking." Sam says slowly, grimacing as he remembers the spiraling panic that had flared so suddenly in him, giving his body the reason it had been looking for over the last two days to rebel finally. "About… about Cas. And.. what he said." Dean pales next to him, and Bobby grimaces, both exchanging a quick look. Without another word, Bobby backs away and Dean stands, offering his hand to Sam. Sam takes it, letting his big brother pull him back to his feet, before steering him back towards the couch. Sam takes the same seat he has been claiming all day, fully expecting Bobby to return to his research, and Dean to his drinking, but to his surprise Bobby leans up against a bookshelf across from them, and Dean sits right next to Sam, their legs brushing against each other's, Dean's silent way of showing support.
"What were you thinking about?" Bobby asks, folding his arms across his chest. Sam just shakes his head.
"Just… why would he do this?" Sam asks. "Why would he do any of this? Why wasn't he just honest? We could have helped him… we would have helped him."
"He's an angel Sam." Dean says bitterly. "And angels are dicks." Sam can hear the hurt in Dean's voice, the pain. Cas' betrayal has broken something in him, and Sam doesn't know how to even begin to fix it. He had tried so hard to believe in Cas, to keep the faith… just to have the carpet ripped out from under him. Sam looks at his hands, twisting them anxiously. Who was he kidding? Dean wasn't the only one broken in some way by what Cas has done, what he had said… or, failed to say. Maybe… maybe, even after all this time, Sam was still just the Boy with the Demon Blood to Cas. Maybe he had just read more into his relationship with Cas than what had really been there. Maybe he saw brotherhood, friendship, where Cas only saw an alliance. After all, Sam wasn't the righteous man, and he wasn't the hero that Bobby was. Maybe Sam should have seen this coming. With Lucifer gone, maybe Sam was expendable to Cas now. Maybe that was why he was brought back, to do the dirty work for Cas and Crowley, so Dean and Bobby wouldn't have to, since they were the real heroes, the ones who deserved to live their lives properly after the horrors of the Apocalypse. And Sam hates that he is even thinking any of this to begin with, but he just can't stop the thoughts from spiraling. At least until Bobby clears his throat, shifting his eyes around the room awkwardly before they land back on Sam.
"Was… was that all?" Bobby asks hesitantly. "You sure you weren't… remembering, things?" Sam frowns in confusion but understanding hits him at the same time it does Dean, who sits up even straighter, looking seriously at Dean with a glare that demands an honest response.
"No, no Bobby, I promise." Sam hurries to reassure them both. "There was no Hell, nothing from this last year… it was just… I guess everything Cas said is just starting to hit me, but I am good, I promise."
"Cas wouldn't do or say anything to risk bringing down Sam's wall." Dean says, and Sam pretends not to hear the undercurrent of doubt, and hesitation that his brother is trying to mask with false confidence. Because Sam knows how desperately Dean is trying to hold onto even a sliver of their friend still being somewhere in the angel, despite the evidence pointing towards his backslide into single-minded self-righteousness that seems to be the default setting for divine beings. Sam now shifts slightly, brushing his leg against Dean's to offer the same support Dean gave to him. "I mean, sure, Cas has made some… questionable choices, but he wouldn't do that to us. Not when he knows better than anyone what that would do."
"Maybe not on purpose." Bobby says reluctantly. "But we all know that Sam's wall isn't exactly the most stable thing in the world… bringing up Sam's time in Hell, admitting he was the one to pull Sam out, that was… reckless, of him."
"He was just flustered." Sam says quickly. "Dean is right, Cas would never hurt me like that. Everything he has done this year has been to try and protect us, even if it didn't end up working, or we didn't realize it at the time. Yeah, he might be going about things the wrong way, but he isn't evil. He's just trying to win his war." Bobby still looks doubtful, and even Sam isn't entirely convinced by what he is saying, but Dean at least looks mollified, a little, so Sam will take the win where he can get it. And Sam knows that, at the very least, what he said about Cas not being evil is true. He isn't a bad guy. But Cas is getting desperate, and he feels like his back is up against the wall, and he is alone. Sam knows from experience just how dangerous that can make someone, especially someone clinging to the idea that what they are doing is right, is for the greater good.
"Right." Dean says, nodding, and standing up. Sam, for half a second, expects Dean to head back to his spot in the kitchen and to resume his attempts to drown himself in alcohol, but Dean just paces slightly away, before turning back to face Sam and Bobby. "Just trying to win his war. But to do that, he's trying to crack Purgatory open to get to the souls, right? That's what he and Crowley are after?" "Far as we can tell." Bobby confirms.
"Any ideas yet on how they plan to do that?" Sam asks, trying to shake off his desolation and darkening thoughts. They don't have time for Sam to have a meltdown, or a panic attack, not right now. Dean and Bobby need Sam pulling his weight if they want any chance at stopping Cas before he does something he will regret. So, stowing his baggage by roughly shoving his anger, betrayal and sadness at Cas' actions into the far, far recesses of his mind to deal with later, Sam instead focuses his energy attention on doing what he has been trained to do for years. Hunting. And right now, that means research, which is an area Sam has always exceeded in, where he can prove his worth to Dean and Bobby. Feeling the faint trickling's of adrenaline, and even excitement at having a new puzzle to solve, Sam focuses his whole being and attention on the other two hunters.
"No." Bobby moves over to his desk and Sam and Dean follow, frowning down at the scattered maps and notes and books.
"Your friend Dr. Visyak couldn't tell you anything?" Sam asks. Bobby shakes his head.
"More like wouldn't." Bobby admits. "She definitely knows how to crack open Purgatory, but she wasn't spilling. Seemed to think it was too dangerous for us mere mortals to know."
"Can't argue with her on that one, really." Sam mutters.
"Yeah, but it would help us know how to stop Cas and Crowley if we knew what they had to do in the first place." Dean points out.
"Well, opening a door to someplace like Purgatory would take some pretty powerful mojo right?" Sam points out. "Usually magic like that needs to be done in a very exact, precise way. The right ingredients, the right timing, the right place… it can't just be done on any regular Friday night, right?" Bobby and Dean look at Sam, curious, open-minded expressions on their face, so, encouraged, Sam continues. "So maybe if we can't find out what Cas and Crowley need to open the door, ingredient wise, we can at least figure out when, or where they might try to open it. Bobby, what do you have here on witchcraft? Maybe something in the lore will help us."
"Look at that, Geek Boy to the rescue." Dean teases, though there is a hint of pride in his voice to, and Sam can't help the small smile he gives at Dean's praise. Making Dean proud is something Sam hasn't felt like he's been able to do for a while. Since he raised Lucifer, at least, so even just this small victory feels incredible. Bobby shuffles around the boys, going to the stacks and piles of books littering his library, and he starts pulling out handfuls of books, passing them to Sam and Dean, and while Sam immediately takes his place back on the couch, starting to read through the works, Dean lets out a long suffering sigh. "Or not…"
"Shut up, you idjit. Reading won't kill ya." Bobby grumbles, taking his own pile of books back to his seat. Mumbling unflattering words under his breath, Dean takes his pile of books and plops down next to Sam, all three men becoming engrossed in their research. Sam glances at his companions, smiling slightly, as he notices that, now that they have something to work on, something to do, neither of the older men seem inclined to drown their misery anymore. It seems like finally moving again, working towards stopping Cas and Crowley has, at least temporarily, sobered them up and Sam is nothing but grateful. Maybe he should let himself fall apart more often, if it leads to breakthrough ideas and breaks for his brother's and Bobby's poor livers. Hours pass in comfortable, companionable silence, although the seriousness of the research, and the weight of the consequences that are at stake never really departs from the room, showing in the tension in Dean's shoulders, and his grip on his books, and the disappointment in Bobby's expression every time he looks skyward. Sam tries his best to ignore the small slips in composure from both men, knowing they value their privacy and prefer to maintain their images of stoic, composed, unshakeable hunters. But still, it is reassuring to know that Sam isn't alone in his feelings, that, once again, he is feeling the same thing as everyone else in the room. From what little he remembers of his time soulless, Sam is certain he will never take the ability to empathize or be empathized with for granted ever again. Finally though, Sam sits up straighter, his eyes quickly re-reading the last passage of his current book.
"I think I got something." Sam announces, a small, smug smile curling up his lips, the way it always does when he successfully finds what he is looking for. Both Bobby and Dean look up immediately, but as Sam lifts his eyes to look over at them, a soft flutter of wings fill Bobby's library. In an instant, all three hunters are on their feet, a shotgun in Bobby's hand, a handgun in Dean's, and Ruby's demon knife in Sam, the guns both aimed at the new arrival, Sam's knife raised in self-defense in a move that is instinctive and automatic. Castiel looks back at the three men, his face a careful, neutral expression as he takes in the hunters and the weapons that would be all but useless against him. Dean and Sam step subtly towards each other, Dean half a step in front of Sam, and Cas' eyes flick over them, catching the protective position Dean has taken. The angel's eyes then move over the books scattered around, the chaos of maps and quickly taken notes and discarded tomes.
"Cas." Dean breaks the silence first, and the angel meets Dean's gaze calmly.
"Dean. Sam. Bobby." Castiel nods at each of them in turn, politely, as if he didn't just upend their entire last year the last time they were all face to face. "I see you are all still conspiring against me."
"No." Sam says immediately. Cas looks at him, a slight frown tilting his mouth down, his eyebrows pinching together as Sam looks back at him. "Cas, we aren't conspiring against you."
"So all of this…" Cas gestures towards the research. "Isn't to find a way to prevent me from finding Purgatory?"
"No, you idiot, it's too stop Crowley." Dean says angrily.
"Dean…" Bobby and Sam both say quietly, but Dean steps forward anyways, ignoring them.
"You don't even see it, do you?" Dean demands. "How completely off the rails you are? Purgatory, Cas? The land of monsters? What are you thinking? How could this possibly end any way other than bad? Apocalyptic bad, even?"
"I don't have to explain myself to you, Dean." Cas says, his eyes flashing and his voice becoming hard, and ice cold. Bobby and Sam exchange glances as Dean recoils slightly in surprise. For the first time in a long time, Cas looks… angelic. "I've tried, you won't listen. You, all of you, seem to have decided I am in the wrong, so why should I bother trying to make you see anymore?"
"Cas…" Sam tries, stepping forward, but freezing as Cas turns his harsh gaze on him. Sam isn't sure what expression crosses his face, but Cas seems to hesitate, and some of the hardness of his expression softens. Once again, he looks like the man that has become their family. Their friend who took on the apocalypse by their side. He looks tired, and weary and there is a glimmer of desperation when he speaks.
"Sam. Bobby. Dean. Please. I am begging you. Stand down." Cas pleads. "Let me do what I need to, let me defeat Raphael for good. Let me protect what you gave your life for, Sam." Sam jolts at that, surprise filling him as both Dean and Bobby react, Bobby moving around the table to stand by Sam's side as Dean strides towards Cas, grabbing the angel by his lapels.
"Is that what you think you are doing?" Dean demands sharply. "What the hell does Sam's dying have to do with anything?"
"Dean." Bobby warns, as Sam feels the beginnings of a migraine, as images of his swan dive start to fill his head, unwanted, but drawn up by Cas' casual reminder. Stull Cemetery, Lucifer, somehow burning hot and freezing cold all at once, all consuming, all encompassing, holding him bound and gagged in his own mind as he fights tooth and nail to get free, to get control, to save Dean from his own fists. Dean, broken and bleeding in the grass, Cas exploded to atoms, Bobby dead on the ground. Michael, hostile, and arrogant, glaring at him with determination to see him dead. And then falling. Falling into blackness, into coldness and emptiness, with an agonizing rage ripping through his entire body, Lucifer's screams shattering his eardrums, his bones breaking apart, the force of wind as he falls into the pit shredding his skin-
"Sam!" Something hard hits his face and Sam blinks, Bobby's library coming back into focus as he is pulled forcefully from his spiraling thoughts. The room appears to be shaking, although after a moment Sam realizes that it is just him, trembling violently from the onslaught of memories. Dean is in his face, gripping Sam's cheeks tightly, and too late Sam realizes that Dean had slapped him. "Sammy, come back. Focus, please. Don't follow the memories, don't scratch the wall." His brother's desperate pleas start to register and Sam blinks hard, clenching his fists as he struggles to re-orient himself. Sam focuses on his brother, and, seeing it, Dean smiles encouragingly, some of the panic in his eyes dying out as he starts to breathe deeply, in and out, in slow, even movements. Taking the cue, Sam tries to mimic Dean, and slowly, he starts to calm down out of the near-hyperventilating state he hadn't even noticed he had been in. "Good. There we go Sammy, just like that." Dean gently pats Sam's cheek, and Sam reaches out, gripping his brother's shirt, using the contact with his brother to ground him until his heart slows down and his breathing is back to normal. Dean gives Sam a searching look, and Sam nods encouragingly, before Dean lets go of him and Sam slowly drops the hand from Dean's flannel, as Dean turns back to Cas. Bobby squeezes Sam's shoulder, stepping closer as Dean gestures towards Sam. "You see that Cas? See what reminding Sam of… of that, does to him? Why the hell would you toss that in his face?" Dean asks coldly.
"I am sorry, that was not my intention." Cas says, and Sam hears the genuine concern in his voice. When Cas meets Sam's gaze, Sam searches his eyes and sees sadness, sympathy, and… that desperation again. "I don't wish to hurt you Sam, I promise. I know what your sacrifice has cost you, what risks it still poses, but don't you see? That is exactly why I am trying to defeat Raphael, why I need to see this deal with Crowley through. After everything you gave up Sam, after what all of you have been through… none of it will mean anything if Raphael wins. He will find a way to free Michael and Lucifer, and you three will be the ones most heavily punished for derailing the grand plan. Defeating him is the only way to keep the freedom you fought for."
"Okay, fine." Dean says. "We get that, Cas, we do. But this isn't the way. Dealing with Crowley? Lying to us, using us? Tapping into a gaping hellmouth full of monsters for a powerup? Cas, please, you gotta see that this isn't the right way to do things." Cas sighs heavily, and his eyes harden once again. Sam's heart starts beat faster again as he realizes Cas is completely unmoved by Dean's argument.
"This is your last chance." Cas says firmly, and the angelic mask hides their friend away again, leaving only the solid, unmoving Angel of the Lord in his place, grim-faced and determined, with power radiating off of him. "Stand down. Agree to let me deal with Raphael, and to not interfere with my plan. I won't ask again."
"Well good." Dean snarls. "Cause I think you already know the answer." The lights in the library flicker and a forceful wind blows through the library, scattering the books and the maps and even flinging the bottles of beer and glass of whisky off of their surfaces as Cas sighs. Sam flinches and raises his knife as both Dean and Bobby shift warily, all three men focused on the angel.
"I wish I didn't have to do this, but you forced my hand." Cas says solemnly, raising a hand and snapping. There are two more soft fluttering sounds, and two other angels appear in the room, one each in front of Dean and Bobby. One, a female, is short and thin, with long black hair, her vessel's eyes a sharp, cold green. The other tall and broad, a male with military cropped brown hair and dark brown eyes, just as harsh and cold as his companion's. Before any of the hunters can react, the angels strike, the female grabbing Dean and throwing him clear into the kitchen, sending him crashing over the kitchen table, and his body rolling across the hard linoleum floor. The male angel does the same to Bobby, grabbing him and throwing him into his desk. Bobby slams into the piles of research materials, rolling off the opposite end and pushing his chair backwards as he collapses into a heap, his books falling on top of him. At the same moment, Cas flicks his wrist, and Sam's knife is ripped from his hands, flying into the hallway far out of his reach. Unable to stand there and do nothing while his family is attacked, Sam leaps at the only unengaged angel, lunging for Cas, but before he gets more than a step, the other two angels are on him, each grabbing an arm and twisting it painfully behind his back. Not enough to break, or even dislocate anything, but enough to hurt, and keep his arms well and truly trapped behind him. With one swift kick to the back of his knee, again not enough to do any real damage, but enough to be effective, Sam drops to the floor, the two angels holding his arms also now holding him in place, each placing a foot on his legs to keep him from rising back to his feet.
"Sammy!" Dean yells, and Sam looks over to see his brother forcing himself to his feet, staggering slightly and unconsciously grabbing at his side. Sam grimaces. That toss was nasty, Sam would be surprised if Dean hadn't bruised his ribs, if not broken them all together. Opposite him, with many grunts and loud cursing, Bobby is also starting to pull himself to his feet, as Cas walks over towards the angels holding Sam down. Cautiously, Dean and Bobby move quickly to stand opposite Cas and Sam, wary eyes monitoring Cas' every movement. Sam struggles against the angels' grips, tugging relentlessly to try and free his arms, but their angelic strength gives them iron-like grips and Sam realizes he would have an easier time breaking free if they were made of stone. Cas places a hand on Sam's head, gripping his hair tight enough to hold without ripping it out, and gently pulls his head back so he is looking up at Dean and Bobby. "Let him go Cas." Dean pleads.
"Rest assured, Dean, Bobby, I will return Sam." Cas says, in a voice that is maybe meant to be reassuring but only comes across as condescending.
"Return Sam from where?" Bobby growls angrily.
"But only if you stand down." Cas continues as if Bobby hadn't spoken.
"Cas don't do this!" Dean yells, his eyes wide with the same panic and fear that Sam can feel starting to creep through his system, the angels tightening their grips on his arms as Sam looks anxiously at his brother, and Dean steps forward automatically, the fierce desire to protect his little brother shining out of his expression, practically radiating off of him like an aura.
"Be thankful for my mercy, Dean. I could have broken his wall." Cas says coldly, and both Dean and Bobby flinch, as Sam lets out a soft whimper, the sound escaping him as his fear sky rockets. "Instead, as long as you behave, I will return him in one piece." Sam gives Dean one last horrified look, before he hears the beating of the wings of the three angels, and Bobby's living room disappears from around him. Almost instantly it is replaced with a large, open room. There are two stories of open space with dirty, grimy linoleum floors, white, bare tiled walls, an exposed roof crisscrossing with wooden beams and metal pipes and vents, high windows near the roof that are nearly as dirty as the floor, large metal stairs leading up to a small balcony with what, from Sam can tell in his very quick glance around, is the only entrance in and out of the room, and a couple of old, rusted metal tables scattered around that Sam doesn't even want to begin to guess at the purposes for. Some things are just better left unknown, in his experience. Sam takes all of this in as quickly as he can, his father having trained him since he was a kid to notice details, and memorize them rapidly, in case he ever finds himself in… well, a situation like this. Unknown terrain, hostile forces, clear disadvantage. Any little thing can help you, all you need to do is know it's there, his dad always said. Unfortunately for Sam, either Cas got lucky and picked the barest possible place to land, or this room was recently cleaned and decluttered of anything that might become a weapon in the hunter's hand. Sure, knowing where the exit is helpful, but the empty tables, the too high windows, the even more out of reach vents, and the lack of anything on the floor, be it screws, or tools, or hell, even splinters leaves him with very little in the way of options, especially as Sam spots a hook fused into the wall on the opposite side of the room from the stairs, and attached to the hook, two sets of chains, each ending in a pair of sturdy look leather cuffs. Sam feels his stomach drop as he realizes they are for him, Castiel confirming the thought a moment later. "Secure him, but don't hurt him." Cas releases Sam's hair and the angels drag Sam towards the restraints. Sam kicks and struggles, trying to rip his arms free, but they simply hold tighter, spinning him around to slam his back against the wall. Stunned, and slightly breathless, Sam can only watch as the male angel fastens one set of the leather cuffs tightly around his wrists, cinching them together behind his back, as the female angel attaches the second set of cuffs to his ankles, binding them together just as tightly. Within seconds, Sam is secured hand and foot to the wall, and left sitting on the floor as the angels straighten and back away. Cas watches everything happen silently, hands tucked into his jacket's pockets.
"Cas." Sam pleads, looking towards the angel as he finally finds his voice again, his heart racing with anxiety as he struggles to process what the hell just happened. He tugs on his cuffs, trying to slip free, or weaken them, but they hold, unyielding. "Cas don't do this."
"I'm sorry Sam." Cas says simply. And he sounds genuine. Sam studies the angel, and he sees something like regret in his eyes, but before Sam can say anything else, can even begin to try pleading for Cas to let him go, before Sam can do anything except stare at Cas, confused, and hurt, shocked, there is a flutter of wings, and all three angels disappear, leaving Sam alone in the empty, dirty room, chained to the wall.