Castiel wasn't sure what had happened.

One moment he had been tracking down something on his own, he had heard through angel radio of something in Ohio that had been making angels disappear, and while he knew he shouldn't go alone, he hadn't wanted to bother Sam or Dean, he knew how they felt about any case involving angels.

Maybe he should have asked someone though, because next thing he knew he was at a warehouse. Enochian cuffs tight around his wrists and ankles, his nose aches with sharp scents of sulfur and gunpowder, grease and human waste. He felt oddly sore and weak.

And it took him a moment to realize two things.

One.

He was locked.

That's where the soreness came from.

He.

Was.

Locked.

In the vessel .

If he focused hard enough he could feel the sting of the brand on his back, could feel an uncomfortable weight on his grace that pushed his true form against the ethereal plane.

Two.

His wings are out.

Physical .

And that shouldn't be possible. He bites down the rising panic as he cranes his neck in an attempt to look behind him, but with the angle his arms are chained as, it is near impossible to look. He twitches his wings and spreads them out.

The confirmation that his wings are out of the ethereal plane makes his chest constrict and panic seize him. He couldn't tuck them back in, couldn't hide them. And this was wrong. Wrong . His wings should never leave the ethereal plane. It shouldn't- this shouldn't-this is wrong.

He bristles and tugs at the chains. He wasn't quite sure of what had happened, but he was sure of one thing.

He had to get out of here. Now .

The Enochian sigils on the walls don't sit well with him nor does the fact that he is locked and with his wings out which he tries to ignore for the time being, right now panicking wouldn't help at all. He couldn't panic, no matter what, panic wouldn't help at all. He should focus. Focus. Focus .

The sound of doors opening makes him look up.

A woman walks in, she looks human, but she doesn't feel human, or like any other creature he knew.

He tenses at that.

An unknown being with Enochian spells was never a good mix.

"You're awake." She voices as a form of greeting. There's an odd glee in her gaze.

"What do you want?"

"That's a good question. You'll see soon enough." She said, pulling a strange blade out from under her sleeve, he tenses at that, even more so as she circles him until she is standing right behind him. He tucks his wings closer to him. Anxious.

Would she kill him? No. She wouldn't have bothered kidnapping him if that was the case, then what-

"Did you know? An angel's wings can make humans immortal and be used for outstanding spells?"

That single statement along with the feeling of the sharp blade dragging across the bone of his wings make the world stop. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant... right? That wasn't- no .

"No!" He tugs at the chains with newfound strength and tries to avoid the inevitable.

But it's no use for the blade is brought down without mercy.

The impact of the blade lodging itself into the bone tears a scream right out of Castiel. His true voice leaking out and making the windows explode into a million pieces. Thunder splits the skies outside, lightning striking down somewhere.

But the witch doesn't react.

The blade is ripped out of the bone before being brought back down.

Castiel screams and a tree is set on fire somewhere, lightning striking down as the clouds swirl in rage above the skies, wind bursting the doors open. He cries and screams. Desperately trying to break free.

He can feel it drilling into the bone, tendrils being burnt off. It hurts it hurts it hurts. It felt like he would go insane. Wings flapping as light and blood sprayed everywhere, he felt nauseous and light and faint AND SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP!

He is drooling. Or is it blood? He isn't sure. His head hurts. His chest hurts. He can't focus. His grace is screaming. The universe is screaming.

Another hit hits a nerve that makes him see white.

"Stop! Stop! It hurts!" He screamed in pure, unrelenting agony, his true voice laced with enochian as he pleads, he tries to pull away from the pain. He was wailing in despair. The blade went down again and this time it got caught halfway down his left wing as it finally sank into the bone.

Castiel screamed.

His voice blasting his vessel's vocal cords into nothingness as blood spluttered out. He tugged on the chains fervently as thunder roared above. Fire fire fire he was fucking burning in the pits of Hell . Melting. Fire fire fire . Grace burst out of his mouth as his back twisted with a scream.

Castiel's body convulsed and he twisted so hard bone broke somewhere, bloodied tears streamed down his face. His lungs burnt. Please let him die die die die die die please someone make him fucking die. He just wants to die, Father please just let him die die die die die. Die.

There's screaming somewhere, noise and just so much screaming, it makes him choke in a sob. But he can't move, can't focus. It hurts. Father just kill him. It feels like he will die, he just wants to die. Please someone just kill him.

Someone stands before him, but he has no strength for anything, he faintly feels someone grab his face, more shouting, he can swear someone is calling his name. But that's the last he knows of it before the world goes completely black.

~

The call came from Mom at around 2 am, Sam had still been awake, reading through a book regarding skinwalkers.

And while at first he hadn't wanted to pick up the call, ignoring a text message was easier than a phone call. He couldn't just not pick up.

Thus, he had picked her call. And she had told him to get Dean and drive to the British Men of Letters' headquarters. Quick. The urgency in her tone alone had been enough to get him to wake Dean up, and it wasn't until both brothers were on the road that Sam put the phone on speaker.

"Mom, why do we need to go to the British Men of Letters' headquarters? What's going on?"

"We were hunting down a witch. She's been on the British Men of Letters' radar for a few years, but she's always managed to escape. She captures other… creatures and takes certain things from them that helps her enhance her abilities… We managed to track her down and…"

Sam and Dean felt their stomach twist, a bad feeling creeping in. Even more so at her shuddering breath.

"Mom… what happened?"

"It's Castiel."

The name alone froze them both, and for a moment, both forgot how to even breathe.

Of all possible things, that was the last name Sam and Dean expected to hear.

"Is he-?"

"He's alive." She was quick to assure Dean, his hands were tight on the steering wheel, jaw set tight. "But Dean… what she did to him… what she almost did to him… they did everything they could to help him, but even they don't know with certainty how some aspects of angels work."

"Mom, what did she do?" Sam asks, needing to know, mom said it was a witch who took things from others to use them. Was it his grace? No, an almost didn't exist whenever dealing with grace. So what? His blood?

"... She tried to cut his wings off."

Dean almost hit the brakes.

Almost.

"What do you mean- they are not-" What was she talking about? Angels' true forms couldn't be perceived by just about anyone, that included their wings.

"It's alright, she didn't. I– we got there on time, she was only starting when we got there, she only hurt one of them. But he's healing very slowly, and… he hasn't really woken up or moved since we got him."

Neither of the brothers spoke, anger burning deep, worry, frustration, guilt. They should have known something was up when Cas just went up and left, leaving nothing but a note to not worry and that he would be back in a few days.

And now… they didn't even know angels could make wings corporeal. Who the hell even thought about cutting their wings off? That was so wrong on so many levels, and God, what if no one had found him? What if that witch had managed to mutilate him? Would he have died? Bleed to death? And none of them would have been the wiser. Even now he had been hurt and none of them had known.

It angered Dean the sole idea of Cas being with the Brits when he was so vulnerable, he had seen how Ketch had looked at him, had heard how he had called him. He didn't want Cas anywhere near those assholes, at least he hoped mom was keeping an eye on him until they got there.

~

Ketch was waiting outside for them upon arrival.

"Where is he?" Dean demands to know, Ketch smiles, grating on Dean's nerves, but he bites the insults, he will play nice only until he has Cas.

"This way." The brit said, turning around and starting to walk away, prompting the brothers to follow him. The lights were flickering inside, a familiar, metallic high pitched ring in the air.

"I thought he wasn't awake." Sam exclaims, frowning in suspicion, mom hadn't picked up when he called her to tell her they were close.

"He woke up a few minutes ago. We haven't been able to get close since then, despite the deplorable state of his wings his skill with them is outstanding. They are fascinating. I have never seen anything like it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"He's using the good one as a weapon to keep people away, apparently, they are much different than the ones we have come across in the past, it's as if the feathers themselves have become knives."

Sam and Dean felt their stomach churn at Ketch's tone, as if he were speaking about some sort of fascinating project and not a living being.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know what kind of angel he is, right?"

"I have no idea." Dean states, not missing a beat, like fuck he's telling these people anything about Cas. Yet, what he said… "Where's our mother?"

"She's with him, he won't let her get close, but at least she seems to keep him from tearing the place down." Well, that at least would explain why she didn't pick up. They had also not thought about it, about how Cas must be feeling right now, waking up in an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers in who knows what amount of pain.

The brothers were brought to a stop infront of a door.

"They are in there. I wouldn't make sudden moves or noises if I were you." And with that, Ketch was gone.

Sam and Dean shared a look before both turned their phones off. Neither knew what to expect upon opening the door, but it was certainly not a dim lighted room, the only light being that from a flickering light, the place looked like some sort of lab, no wonder Cas had freaked out. Also looked completely wrecked, medical supplies scattered all over the floor alongside glass and bandages.

There were also deep gashes across the floor and walls, table cleanly chopped in half.

Cas… the brothers spotted him standing in the farthest corner of the room, he was pressed against the wall, as if he couldn't quite keep himself standing, and he had very corporeal wings, bony and with frayed, black feathers , gaze fixated on their mother, she was sitting on the floor across from him at a safe distance, though even so one of his wings kept an extra barrier between them.

His attention snapped to them almost immediately, and there was not a single trace of recognition there, just an unfamiliar sharpness, eyes glowing dangerously as the feathers sharpened. Oh, if looks could kill.

"It's alright." Mom is quick to speak as she notices them, holding her hands up and drawing Castiel's attention back to her. "You are alright, no one here means you any harm, you are safe, I promise." He tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at her for a moment before the glow disappears once again.

Cas watches her intently as she stands up, hands still up and movements slow. As she turned her back on him, his attention fell on them, and they also got to see Mom had a slash right across her face, dry blood covering her cheek and staining her shirt.

"Mom? Are you-?"

"I'm alright, it's not his fault." She's quick to assure. "He doesn't quite seem to recognize me, but it seems like some part of him trusts me since he let me get that close. Mick believes he might be stuck in some sort of dissociative state and that he might get better once he's somewhere much more familiar." She speaks.

To be honest? Mary couldn't shake the images off her mind just yet, when she had gone over to check on the witch's latest catch she had mildly wondered what could possibly have wings, sure, broken and frayed, but wings .

She hadn't expected it to be Castiel , and it had taken her many threats and screams to finally get Ketch to agree to help him. Had stood by in a corner of the room watching the doctors (scientists?) work to make sure they wouldn't pull any funny business.

When he woke up… that had been heart wrenching, because while he had been attacking, there had been nothing but terror in his gaze, and ancient being or not, to Mary, he had become one of her boys, and she would be damned if she wasn't to at least try to comfort him.

It had taken time, and she did get a slash across her face for moving too fast. But he had finally stopped attacking everything and everyone. Was much calmer than when he first woke up.

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean glanced at Cas at Mom's words, he was staring at them like a wounded animal waiting for the slightest sign of threat to lash out. The lack of recognition in his gaze just serving to puncture straight through their heart.

"How are we supposed to take him home?" Sam wonders out loud, because Cas doesn't seem willing to move at all.

Dean frowns, this before taking a step forward, raising his hands in surrender as Cas glowers at him, the few feathers on his good wing bristle, but he doesn't move. And those wings look anything but like the shadows he had seen at the barn all those years ago. The bone is scarred over, feathers frayed, bent or flat out snapped in half, and he mildly wonders if those still hurt. He never even stopped to think what it meant when Cas said angels lost their wings in the fall.

He comes to a stop on the same spot Mom had been sitting at, Cas is still staring at him, alert. And Dean can see the other wing, bandages that go around his stomach, chest and shoulder, keeping the wing pressed against his back, and there's dry blood on him. It makes his stomach churn, because Cas could have died or whatever was it that happened to an angel who got their wings cut off.

And Dean wouldn't have known.

"Hey, Cas, buddy, what do you say we go home? To the bunker, I bet your room would be much more comfortable to be in than here." He states, the angel narrows his eyes at him, but that's all he does, he doesn't move, doesn't so much as twitch.

Dean risks another step forward, hands still open and up in surrender. Yet, the angel tenses, eyes flashing blue, but since he doesn't make any move to attack, Dean takes another step.

"I mean you no harm, I would never hurt you, we… we are your family, and we have come to take you home, you will be safe there, no one will bother you and you won't have to worry about any of the pricks here." Dean said slowly, he had passed his barrier long ago, Cas could very much decapitate him from behind if he wanted.

But he didn't move, in fact, he was now crouching more than standing, and oh, he was shaking, fingers gripping onto the wall so hard they had actually gone through the wall.

Dean stops right infront of him, and he hates how Cas looks up at him as if expecting an attack, eyes still very much glowing and expression completely devoid of any recognition. He kneels before him, hesitantly reaching out towards him, it's not until Dean rests his hand on Cas' shoulder that the angel reacts with more than just a stare, he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes widening, and just like that the glow from his eyes snuffs out and his wing pulls away immediately.

And for a blessed moment, recognition flashes across his face. Though there's doubt too.

"Dean..?" He asks, hesitant, as if he wasn't quite sure about his own statement, Dean's grasp on his shoulder tightens.

"Yes, it's me, buddy. Are you-"

"I can't hear you."

Dean's voice caught in his throat. What?

"When she… when she tried to cut it off, it disrupted my link to the vessel. It's like I'm caught in between planes, I'm… it's too loud, and I can't see your soul, I'm… angels don't see faces, and when I was human… I couldn't really remember faces, but people's voices were easy to remember, but I can't hear anyone now and I'm…" He scowled, frustration clear on his face. "I recognized your soul when you touched me." He turns to look at Dean's hand.

And oh shit. How… Dean never even entertained the idea that angels might perceive the world on a whole different level, but again, angels could see that which others wouldn't, like wards, or reapers, or souls apparently. And he said when he was human- shit. Cas had seemed hesitant when Gadreel had resurrected him, like he hadn't been quite sure he was getting the names right.

And Dean had kicked him out. Yet, what he said… would it get better once he healed? Or was it permanent? Cas' gaze wandered behind him, settling on the two other people in the room, recognition seeming to dawn on him.

"I'm sorry." He said, guilt thick in his voice as he stared at the cut across Mary's cheek.

Mary waved her hand dismissively, hoping to convey how she didn't hold it against him.

"Let's go home." Dean states before wincing, reminding himself Cas couldn't, in fact, hear him. Instead, he grabbed the angel's arm and stood up, tugging on it and pointing at the door. Cas didn't seem to quite understand, but he at least seemed to get that they would be leaving.

Sam quickly went over to them as Cas stumbled, they both carefully yet firmly grabbed a hold of him, mindful of not accidentally touching his wings.

"Let's get out of here." Dean said, Sam couldn't agree more.

Thankfully, no one tried to intercept them on their way out, Sam and Dean having to grip Cas tighter as the angel seemed to grow weaker and weaker. Dean has zero idea how they even managed to fit him in the backseat. Mom climbing into the backseat with him, his head resting on her lap. Dean was quite sure if his wings were healthy they would certainly not have fit in the impala.

Dean was quick to get in the driver's seat and Sam shotgun. He sped out of there and didn't allow himself to relax until the Brit's headquarters were at a considerable distance. Just then did he relax.

"How is he?" He asks Mom.

"He seems… to be sleeping." Mary says, she was quite sure she heard once that Castiel didn't sleep. But here he was, asleep. She glanced at his back, thick bandages covered the base. The light leaking through the window made the dark feathers shimmer, revealing them to be a rather deep shade of blue rather than the black she had thought.

The drive is rather quiet…

"Did Mick say anything else?" Sam breaks through the silence, he might not trust the British Men of Letters, but Mick seemed somewhat… decent, or at least better than Ketch.

"Not really, they said that his grace is incredibly weak and that by extension that's why he wasn't healing fast. They don't know much about their wings, but Ketch seemed rather confident that their wings are intricately connected to them, something about how even pulling a feather gets a very strong reaction."

Sam and Dean stiffened at that.

"They didn't do anything to him, I stayed." Mary adds as she notices Sam's expression. She didn't fully trust the British Men of Letters, and she certainly didn't trust them enough to leave them alone with Castiel, a very not human being.

Sure, she hadn't trusted Castiel at first either, angel or not he had been… not human. It had been hard to get used to, even when she heard him say once he was a far cry from what he once was, he still certainly exuded an incredibly unsettling aura, she couldn't imagine how he had been at his prime.

But she had gotten to know him, and before she knew it, he had become another one of her boys, sure, he was older than she could ever possibly imagine, but he was still one of her boys.

Whether he liked it or not.