Chapter 1: For You, I'd Brave the Deepest Hell
Chapter Text
"I'm going after Sam, Dean. If it's in my power, I'll bring him back."
Castiel flew through the thick quagmire of Hell, the noxious fumes of the fiery bog threatening to overpower his senses. Despite the grace shielding his wings, his angelic essence offering protection from the evil surrounding him, Castiel nearly faltered. He'd thought going in only far enough to rescue Dean had been bad; this was much, much worse.
But he had promised, and he had to keep going. The angel knew how lucky he was to have made it this far so easily. Hell had been thrown into chaos with Lucifer's return to the Cage. The only reason the demons hadn't found him yet was because they were already in such an uproar that they probably wouldn't have noticed God himself descending through their ranks.
Even still, it would be a miracle to make it all the way to the Cage and back unchallenged.
"I'm coming, Sam," Castiel muttered out loud, eyes narrowing as he navigated around a plume of reddish-yellow heat erupting from the soggy ground like a molten cloud. The farther down the circles of Hell he flew, the fewer demons he had to avoid. It had been some time since he'd seen the last one, and the angel suspected he must surely be getting close.
The sooner he got there, the better. It had already been a full day, up on Earth, since the battle in Stull Cemetery. A full day since Sam had willingly hurled himself into the abyss, destroying himself in order to save the world. Though Castiel had known that this had been the plan, actually witnessing the event had made a lasting impression on him that changed everything.
How wrong the angels had been about Sam Winchester. Any quiet doubts that Castiel could have possibly held onto about the young man had been soundly eliminated.
"He- he actually did it?" he'd asked an utterly broken Dean. The hunter had only nodded, not looking up from his ninth or tenth drink. Castiel wasn't sure which was worse: the berserk, mindless, raging Dean, or this broken, silent, ruined one. So far, the hunter had manifested both in the wake of his brother's death.
Sam Winchester, Castiel thought with a shake of his head as he flew faster through the depths. Not the boy with the demon blood; rather, the boy who loved the broken, wretched world enough to save them all. The boy who'd been offered unlimited power and immortality, but who'd turned it down in favor of his brother, his friends, and his people—most of whom would never even know his name, let alone what he had done for them.
It was a kind of selflessness and bravery that shook Castiel, simply because the angels had never believed that mere humans were capable of it.
And Dean… Dean, who had spent his life chasing nightmares, never getting to enjoy the same life of safety that he fought to give others. Dean Winchester, the righteous man who had resisted Hell for forty years. The man who gave, and gave, and gave, but never took a thing. The man who had stood nose to nose with the Devil, knowing that he would find nothing but death, just so that his brother wouldn't die alone.
The Winchesters only reaffirmed Castiel's steadfast belief that these people were worth fighting for… that they were not, in fact, a failed experiment.
And Castiel could not – would not – allow Sam to suffer for eternity at Lucifer's hands as payment for the single most amazing act of sacrifice of the age.
The air was starting to get thicker now, smoke and ash combining in festering waves of searing heat. Castiel narrowed his eyes, trying to pierce the growing darkness. Surely he was nearly there. The angel had been flying for what felt like days, and that made him fear for Sam. Time worked differently here; it would be only a day and a half in Earth time, but down here, the human had been trapped with Lucifer for six months already.
In spite of his promise to Dean, Castiel was deeply and terribly afraid that he was already too late.
Now he was nearing the heart of Hell itself, lower than the lowest circle. Quite different from the fiery marshes, the Pit was nothing but a vast space of swirling black so thick that it burned Castiel's eyes and clogged his mind. It was vapor and evil manifested, and there was no need to fly through it… it dragged him down on its own, and very soon the angel would be at the epicenter of everything dark and terrible in Creation.
The Cage, where Sam had been doomed to spend eternity.
"He's my baby brother, Cas. I was supposed to save him. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You HEAR me?! It WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!"
"No, it wasn't. He doesn't deserve this. …..Dean, I- I think I can reach him."
"…What?"
He'd been returned with stronger powers than ever, after all. What reason could there possibly be for that, if not to give him the strength to reach the Cage in the first place? As a lower angel, Castiel doubted he could have made it this far. But as a seraph…
Finally, Castiel slowed to a halt as he reached his target at long last, staring up at the pulsating, crackling dome with dread in his heart. The ethereal streaks of turbulent, energy that formed the Cage emanated a brilliant, white-hot glow, offering some illumination in the otherwise pitch-black of the bowels of Creation. From the outside, Castiel could have walked a circle around the entire dome in less than a minute, but he knew it would be another matter entirely once he stepped through. The Cage wasn't a physical prison so much as the boundaries to an empty world for Lucifer alone. It might have been as small as a single room or as large as all of Heaven; in the end, it didn't matter.
Again, Castiel faltered, feeling millennia of evil, rage, and insanity seeping out of that Cage to poison Hell with more noxious fumes. Even facing down Michael or Raphael had not been this terrifying. If Lucifer caught him, it was highly unlikely that he would be merciful enough to give him another quick death.
Squaring his shoulders, Castiel reached a tentative hand towards the dome. He could feel the power it generated, the barrier which held the mighty Lucifer bound. Getting in would be nothing; he merely had to step through.
Getting out was something he didn't want to think about just yet, for the Cage required a toll that the angel had neglected to mention to Dean.
He could not hesitate any longer. Sam had been alone with Lucifer and Michael for too long already, the perfect target for their wrath besides each other. With narrowed eyes and quaking heart, Castiel shoved his way through the dome, even knowing that this was the point of no return.
The interior of the Cage was nothing like what he expected.
The darkness seemed appropriate, his surroundings lit by nothing but the continuous flashes overhead from the energy forming the domed ceiling. Castiel kept waiting to hear thunder to accompany the eternal lightning, but none ever came. In the strobing light, the angel could see trees, and that confused him. Surely nothing could be growing down here. They were everywhere: trees, bushes, too dark to get a good look at, but he was most certainly surrounded by plant life.
On closer inspection, Castiel realized that the trees didn't simply appear dark due to the intermittent lighting; they were actually black, and the leaves were shriveled and cracked. The angel backed away with repulsion from one plant that had at first appeared to be flowering with red roses… in reality, the flowers were dripping with blood, leaving ominous pools on the ground beneath them.
Even the Cage floor was crawling with shadows, rather than grass. They couldn't have all been cast from the trees and bushes, because even in between the flashing lightning from the dome high overhead, Castiel saw the blackness moving beneath his feet, tangible to the point of solidity.
Castiel crept through the Cage as silently as possible, tense and ready for an attack. The angel blade in his hand was really more for his own comfort than for any practical use. If he ran into Lucifer, it would be worthless anyway, but the soldier felt better with his weapon drawn. But how was he going to find Sam?
The powerful presence of evil in this place was so oppressive that it pricked the corners of Castiel's eyes and even the staunch warrior felt an overwhelming desire to flee.
Of course, it was far too late for that, and Castiel forced his feet onward, blade tight in a white-knuckled grip. Sam. He had to focus on Sam.
He'd have to go to the center of the Cage, the angel decided. Lucifer wouldn't want Sam anywhere close to the border of his domain. The barrier was never designed to trap a human, so Sam could technically walk right out. The problem was, he had jumped into the Pit, body and soul, which meant his physical shell would still have been stuck wandering the basement of Hell with no way out.
Though, that problem was academic anyway, as Lucifer would certainly be keeping a firm hold of Sam to prevent him escaping.
Castiel continued on his trek, swallowing back his revulsion of the shadows that curled towards him as he stepped through them, navigating around the trees. Physical tendrils of the strange darkness snagged at his feet, starting to curl up his legs if he held still for too long. It bothered him that he'd heard nothing so far. How large was the Cage interior? Did it truly extend for eternity? He was alone, ghosting through a sea of shadow.
"Sam," Castiel whispered, feeling desperation start to tug. The angel wanted only to get out as fast as possible, back to the light. He could almost feel his grace shriveling back from this terrible nightmare. "Please, give me some idea of where you are…"
How far had he come from the border of the Cage? Castiel risked a look over his shoulder, and wished that he hadn't. He was utterly surrounded by the black trees and flowers of blood, and the chilling flashes of light. The angel was certain he'd walked far enough that he should have made it straight through to the far wall by now, which meant the inside was certainly larger than the outside.
Finding their way out again would be as hard as finding Sam was turning out to be.
Wait. The angel stiffened, freezing in place as he felt a slight shift in the air around him. The shadows were pulling away slightly, less thick in this direction. He thought he could see a clearing in the trees ahead, so Castiel turned his feet in that direction, creeping along as silently as possible.
If he was very lucky, he'd find Sam unguarded, and perhaps Lucifer wouldn't even know he was there until they had escaped.
A soft cry tore from the angel's throat as he finally caught a glimpse of a shape farther ahead through the branches. Though Sam was still warded against his senses, he was the only source of light or goodness in the entire Cage, and Castiel was drawn towards him like a moth to flame.
"Sam!" he called hoarsely, rushing forward into a hollow as he saw – unbelievably – that his human friend was unguarded. Perhaps Lucifer was elsewhere, fighting with Michael. If so, this window of opportunity might not last long.
Castiel broke through the tree line and flew to Sam's side, then came to a dead stop with horror in his eyes.
Sam Winchester was curled on his side on the dark floor of the massive prison, unmoving. His clothes were in tatters, barely clinging to his wasted form. The poor human was shivering uncontrollably, the only sign that he was alive at all, and while the blood and bruises were bad enough, it was his eyes that nearly drove Castiel to his knees.
There was nothing. Nothing at all. Not even fear, not even despair. Those were the eyes of a dead man, stripped of all humanity, all self, all sanity. Castiel's stomach turned, and his heart quaked; was he too late?
Sam shifted then, and Castiel gasped with surprise and hope. Had the human realized he was there? "Sam, it's me. It's Castiel. I've come to get you out."
Though, he wasn't sure yet how he would do so. The angel frowned, registering now that the shadows weren't truly lessened here, but rather they had condensed and tightened into solid coils that wrapped around Sam's wrists, binding them behind him. When Castiel tentatively reached out to touch the shadow restraints, they felt smooth and cold, like metal made purely of darkness.
"Hold on, Sam," he urged quietly, not certain if the hunter could hear him or not.
"You're… off… your game…"
Castiel straightened back up, eyes darting back to his friend. The hunter wasn't looking at him, staring listlessly ahead. "Sam?"
A shudder ripped through the human, and he tried to shrink away from Castiel. The angel's heart faltered in his chest as he felt Sam cringe at his touch. His friend's words were ragged and dry, like he had used up all his voice already… probably screaming, by the looks of things.
"You were… just… Cas… last time. Right after… Dean. I-It's… Bobby's turn… Remember?"
Castiel knew he should have expected this – had expected this, even – but he was momentarily overcome as the implication settled in. Lucifer was using the forms of all the people Sam cared about to torture him, which could only amplify the pain he was obviously receiving. The angel felt his throat constricting, and he clawed his way through the despair looming over him.
"It's really me, Sam," he assured his friend gruffly. "It's Castiel. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to save you."
Quickly, he turned his attention back to freeing Sam. The shadows which wrapped the hunter's wrists were emanating from the rest of the surrounding tendrils that spread across the ground, effectively chaining Sam to the floor. With no other ideas, Castiel raised his blade, striking the shadow as hard as he could.
It was useless. The angel held back a cry as his arm was jarred painfully at the impact, but nothing could silence the resounding clang that seemed to echo off every shriveled tree, every dying leaf. Castiel's fear multiplied; he'd just informed Lucifer that he was there.
Cursing, the angel tried once more, determined, but once again the blade refused to make even a dent in what should have been mere vapor. How was this possible? What were the shadows even made of?
"There's no point," Sam whispered, hollow and faded. For a second, Castiel almost thought his friend was becoming aware of the escape attempt in progress, until he finished, "I know it's you, Lucifer. The real Cas… is dead. You… you used my hand… you made me kill him…"
Of course. Sam didn't know Castiel had been brought back. The angel sighed in frustration and fury at Lucifer, before stowing his blade back in his sleeve and simply gathering the hunter up in his arms. If he couldn't cut the strange bonds, he would use his restored power to pull Sam free. The human weighed nothing, cradled against him without attempting to help or escape his grasp. His bound hands hung behind him, as Castiel grabbed the solid darkness and flew backwards with every bit of strength he had in the hopes of at least severing the shadow connecting Sam to the ground.
Nothing.
"What is this?" Castiel demanded desperately, knowing with a foreboding certainty that he was almost out of time. "Sam, I will get you free, I just-"
The angel broke off, ice touching his heart as the bottom of his stomach dropped. The shadows… they were whispering.
They were saying his name.
"Castiel… is that YOU, Castiel?"
…Oh no.
The warrior looked down, inhaling with panic as he saw the tendrils of black fog he'd been standing in start to weave around his feet, sliding up his ankles. "No!" he gasped, jerking one leg free and then the other. "Sam-"
"Castiel… hello, brother."
In his arms, Sam frowned, the first bit of clarity returning to his haunted eyes, as he looked up at the angel. His cracked lips parted, then he hesitantly murmured, "Cas?"
It took everything the angel had to keep the cloud of panic from paralyzing him completely. "Yes, it's me," he whispered, pulling his legs free again from the insistent shadows. "Can you-"
He cut off with a cry as Sam was suddenly jerked away from him too ferociously for him to keep a grip on his friend. Sam was slammed onto the floor of the clearing, making him groan with pain. The coils around his wrists separated to yank his hands apart, fastening them to the ground by his head. From all around Castiel, the shadows were suddenly lashing up towards him, too fast to be fended off. They wrapped the angel's arms and legs before he could reach his blade, tightening in a crushing grip with his hands pinned to his sides.
He was trapped, bound in an instant.
"Castiel," the darkness whispered, Lucifer's voice surrounding them now. Castiel bit back a shout of alarm as he was hoisted off the ground completely, suspended by the living shadows that circled his feet, torso, and shoulders.
And then, Lucifer was standing before him, back in his original form. An insane smile lit the devil's face as he reached out and stroked the terrified angel's head.
"Oh, now… this is going to be fun."
Chapter 2: Through Torture, Pain, and Agony
Notes:
Warnings, guys. Creepy Lucifer. Potential for implications here, but nothing explicit stated.
Chapter Text
Castiel struggled with all his might, trying to propel himself away from his fallen brother, but the bonds that kept him pinioned were unbearably strong. The angel hung in the air, unable to even kick out at Lucifer with his feet ensnared as they were. Lucifer was smiling, seeming to find his attempts to escape amusing.
"Lucifer," Castiel gasped out, halting his squirming as he realized it was doing no good at all. He raised his chin, demanding, "You will release Sam Winchester immediately."
He'd been going for a strong, bold tone, but that was difficult to accomplish when his voice was shaking like this. The idea of making demands when he was overpowered and bound was ludicrous. Castiel could see the flash of hilarity in Lucifer's eyes, before the archangel let out a dramatic gasp and clasped his hands together.
"Alright, you win," Lucifer mocked him, pretending to be frightened. "Please, don't hurt me…"
The archangel laughed, beckoning; the strange shadows that wrapped Castiel like tentacles dragged him closer down, tipping him towards Lucifer. The angel couldn't help but try to recoil, tilting his face away from Lucifer's with an expression of fear that he couldn't hide.
"What did you expect was going to happen?" Lucifer asked, voice smooth and cold as snakeskin. His hand reached out and caught Castiel's chin, too strong for the angel to resist. Lucifer pulled Castiel's gaze back towards him so that they were inches apart, the same icy smile still on his face. "You thought you'd waltz in here and try to take what was mine? You thought… what, I'd just give him to you? Oh, Castiel…"
"Sam- Sam doesn't belong here-" Castiel tried, tears pricking at his eyes as Lucifer's thumb grazed up and down his cheek. The Devil's smile widened, but in the strobe light of the domed sky, Castiel could see it was filled with ravenous insanity and rage behind a facade of calm and control.
"Sam belongs to me," he whispered with a sibilant purr. "He gave me permission. He's my vessel, mine to keep as I please. And it pleases me to keep him here."
"Cas…"
Both Castiel and Lucifer looked back to where Sam lay on the ground. His fingers were starting to curl in, muscles on his arms straining a bit now to fight the bonds that connected him to the dark ground. The archangel laughed, letting go of Castiel's face so that he could step over to Sam instead, gazing down at him with interest.
"I must say, I'm glad you're here, Castiel," he said. "It looks like Sam is showing some signs of life again. And just when I thought I was going to have to leave him alone for a year or so until he decided to be more fun."
Castiel didn't say anything, though he furtively resumed his struggles to free himself from the shadowy tentacles. This was not going according to plan. This was much worse than being trapped by Lucifer in the holy oil at Carthage. Back then, Lucifer still had a bigger goal, a mission that he could try to persuade Castiel to join.
Now, the masks had come off, and there was nothing Lucifer could gain from him, and that was bad.
"Lucifer-"
"But you know, I have to ask, Castiel," the Devil went on with an air of pleasantness. His eyes turned back to the captive angel, who had to hold back a gulp of fear at the expression on Lucifer's face. "Why are you here? Not just here in the Cage… why are you alive? I killed you myself."
The angel glared at his older brother, trying to regain even the smallest bit of control, and his mouth tightened. He didn't have to answer that. Lucifer only raised an eyebrow, then gazed down at Sam once again, twirling a finger. Castiel's eyes shot to his trapped friend, then he gasped as he saw a tendril of darkness rise from the ground and flop over Sam's throat, coiling and constricting. A ragged gasp tore from the young hunter, a helpless spluttering as he tried to thrash against his bonds, his airway cut off by Lucifer's evil.
"Stop!" Castiel demanded with another useless squirm. "Lucifer, stop it! I was revived. I don't know how, but I- I think it was God. I was sent back right after Sam jumped into-"
"Yes, thank you, I remember that part." Lucifer's expression had turned black, and Castiel swallowed. "So. I rebel and get thrown into a Cage for eternity. You rebel and are rewarded. And… promoted, if I'm not mistaken." His eyes pierced the imprisoned angel, apparently sensing his increased stores of grace—still not a match for the archangel's.
Castiel didn't reply to that; there was nothing he could say that would alleviate his brother's mad fury, but Sam gasped and coughed, heaving in air once again as his head lolled to the side. Lucifer waved his hand carelessly and Castiel felt his arms flailing as he was dropped to the ground on his knees, the solid shadows coiling to loop around his wrists and ankles instead.
"No!" Castiel growled, trying to fight, without much success. They were dragging him backwards, flinging him against an enormous boulder that stood on the edge of the clearing. The angel winced against the harsh rock at his back, breathing hard as the shadows stretched his limbs, holding him down.
It wasn't quite tall enough for him to stand up straight. Instead, Castiel found himself pinned in a slight, uncomfortable backbend with hands outspread, offering his unprotected chest to Lucifer to run him through if he chose. The exposure made Castiel fight all the more furiously to free himself, but the tendrils' grip on him was unshakeable.
"I'm glad you're here," Lucifer repeated with a smile, stalking over to the boulder and standing over the helpless angel. "Another pupil for today's class."
There was no mistaking the evil intent radiating from the Devil, and Castiel fell still as his brother's hand caressed his face.
"Lucifer, you don't have to do this-"
"Shh…" Lucifer's thumb pressed delicately against the angel's lips, silencing him even as the Devil's malevolent smile intensified. The juxtaposition of gentleness and cruelty was somehow so much more terrible than violence alone would have been, and Castiel had to hold back a dry sob. He felt something toying with the hem of his coat sleeve, then jerked with surprise as something cold slithered up his arm under his shirt.
His blade… Castiel shook his head, eyes pleading, but Lucifer ignored this as the wisp of darkness curled around the weapon stowed in Castiel's sleeve and began to draw it forth. It wasn't that Castiel feared death; but if this escape attempt failed, there would be no one left who would brave the Cage to free Sam.
"Today's lecture," Lucifer whispered, leaning over Castiel, eyes burning with wrath, "is about what happens to those who get in my way."
This was it. Castiel was about to die. His eyes tilted to the right, watching as his angel blade was pulled free of his sleeve, the strange black snake of shadow curling through the air to deposit the sword into Lucifer's waiting hand.
And yet, the strike didn't come. Lucifer wasn't even wielding the blade, only holding it loosely. "And," the Devil spoke up now, Cheshire smile turning towards his other prisoner sprawled on the ground, "since Sam here has already received this lecture, perhaps he'd like to be the guest instructor today."
"Wh-what?" a weak voice spoke. Sam's head tilted up; a flash of lightning from the sky illuminated his face to reveal a look of horror so devastating that Castiel felt his heart breaking. Surely Lucifer would not be this cruel.
That hope was short-lived, though, as Sam was dragged up like a marionette, shadow ropes attached to his limbs and forcing his feet to walk towards them, extending his hand as the hunter began to panic.
"No!" Sam cried out, coming to life as he tried to twist away. "Lucifer, no, please! Please, not again!"
"Enjoy," Lucifer replied with a shrug, placing the angel blade in Sam's hand. "I know I will."
More shadows surged up from the ground, wrapping Sam's hand in darkness, curling his fist around the weapon's hilt. Castiel watched with mounting terror and sadness as his young friend was moved closer towards him, controlled by the tendrils that held him prisoner. "Sam," he whispered, shaking his head as his useless struggles ceased. "I'm sorry."
"Please! Lucifer, don't, don't do this! I- I can't-"
It's alright, Sam, Castiel thought, meeting the hunter's tear-streaked eyes. He sagged against the boulder he was bound to, as Sam's arm was forced into the air, blade held over the angel's exposed form.
"Cas…" Sam whispered, voice breaking. Then he struck, and Castiel felt himself explode in death.
Castiel awoke to the sound of muffled sobs and crooning whispers, and the sensation of being cold. He opened his eyes in confusion, disoriented at first by the darkness all around. A flash of lightning from high above brought his attention to the sky, and the weakened angel struggled to lift his head. The lightning… the ceiling of the Cage… he was still in the Cage? But- but he'd been killed.
Everything hurt, and it certainly felt like he'd died. By now, he should certainly know. Looking around, the angel's questioning gaze landed on Sam and Lucifer, and he froze with horror.
Sam was bound between two trees just inside the clearing of the dark garden, still held by those same chains of solidified darkness that wrapped all the way down his arms and around his chest. He was sagging with his head bowed, held up only by his bonds as he seemed unable to support his own weight, and Castiel could see the young man's body trembling. Sam was standing in pools of blood; the angel realized with dismay that it probably all belonged to the hunter, though there was far too much for Sam to have lost it all at once. Unless Lucifer had been healing him as he went, just to make it last longer…
"There, there," a soothing voice whispered. The Devil was circling Sam, fingers dancing over his prisoner in a healing touch, a horrifying air of familiarity in his movements. "Next time, perhaps you won't fight me, and there will be no need for this punishment."
Castiel shuddered at the word, hoping against hope that the punishment wasn't because of him. But, though Sam had resisted, he had struck the killing blow, the angel was sure of it.
"Castiel," Lucifer called over his shoulder, making the angel freeze. "You're back with us again."
The black surface of the floor began to shift under Castiel as tentacles of shadow twisted up into the air. His heart sank as they flew down to wrap around his shoulders and torso once again, binding him tight. There was no point in resisting as the shadows pulled him up to a slumped kneeling position, arms trapped behind him. A hand caught his chin, once again pulling his gaze up to the gleaming eyes of Lucifer.
"I… I don't understand…" the angel murmured. His brother laughed and shook his head.
"Oh, Castiel… did you think escape from the Cage could be so easily achieved, just by dying? Death doesn't work here. Would you care to guess how many times Sam has died so far?"
From between the two trees, Sam let out a soft whimper. Castiel could see the reaction it brought from Lucifer, could see that the Devil was pleased. For that, he felt actual hatred for his brother.
"Oh yes," Lucifer said easily, tilting his head back towards the human. Snakes of darkness began to slither up the inside of Sam's calves, up his thighs as the hunter groaned in revulsion. Tears dripped down Sam's cheeks and Castiel felt a chill. Lucifer smiled wider. "Bunk buddy and I have been having all kinds of fun."
"And Michael?" Castiel demanded, partly to draw Lucifer's attention away from Sam, partly because he was starting to get nervous over the eldest archangel's conspicuous absence thus far. "Where's he been, while you've been having fun?"
Did he have John's other son, Adam, trapped somewhere else in the Cage? Had they agreed to take their aggression out on the humans instead of each other? Or could he and Sam be expecting a visit from him before long?
"Michael," Lucifer spat out. The shadows released Sam, dropping him to the ground and dragging him out of the way. The hunter lay still and silent on his back, hands pinned to the floor just over his head again, and black restraints across his ankles, but hopefully no longer a target at the moment.
"He's here, isn't he?" Castiel asked, tensing as the Devil grabbed him by the nape of his trench coat and jerked him upright, shoving him towards the two trees that Sam had just been tied between. The angel winced as his feet splashed into the pool of Sam's blood. Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the shadows unwound themselves from Castiel swiftly, sliding down his arms instead to grab his wrists and pull his limbs apart, suspended between the two blackened trees as Sam had been held.
Lucifer shrugged. "In a manner of speaking. He'll be back before too long." A nasty smile crossed his face, as he added, "But it takes a bit longer to put an archangel back together. I kill him whenever he's reassembled. Honestly, he doesn't even put up a fight."
At least there wouldn't be two archangels wreaking their vengeance on them, but Castiel still felt a shudder deep within him to imagine Michael being repeatedly killed, over and over. He wanted to know more, perhaps keep Lucifer talking, but the Devil had walked behind him now. Castiel swallowed.
"Sam's very happy you're here," a voice whispered into his ear, making the angel jump. He felt a hand at his throat, gently starting to work the knot of his tie free. "He's glad that I have you instead of him for a while. He's grateful that he gets a break while you take his punishment."
"No," Sam groaned from the ground, still sounding on the verge of unconsciousness. "No… don't. Don't hurt him…"
"Sam, I need you to be quiet now. It's Castiel's turn, you'll just have to wait."
"Why don't you just let Sam go?" Castiel asked without much hope, inhaling sharply as he felt something on the back of his neck, heated breath that gave him goosebumps of dread.
"Mmm… no."
"Please, please just leave him alone," Sam whispered; Castiel could hear how broken he was, and his heart clenched with sorrow for having taken so long to get there. He should have flown after them right away, and spared his young friend from all of this.
Behind him, Lucifer sighed. "I asked you nicely, Sam. Now I'm going to have to shut you up myself."
"No! No-" Sam's voice was broken off, and Castiel watched in helpless dismay as the shadows crept up Sam's body, the solid tendril slipping past his lips to stuff into his mouth. At first, Castiel was afraid the human would choke on them, watching Sam's eyes widen and glisten with tears. He was still trying to cry out, muffled now as the insidious shadows kept crawling up and in, then wrapped once around his head to secure the gag in place.
"Much better," Lucifer said, before turning his attention back to Castiel. "Where were we…"
Again, Castiel felt Lucifer's face far too close to him, nuzzling against his neck, and the angel tried to shrug free. "What are you doing?" he asked gruffly. It didn't hurt, but it confused him, and the proximity was uncomfortable and alarming.
"Enjoying what's mine."
"I'm not yours!"
"Oh, you're not?" There was a chuckle of amusement from behind him, then Lucifer's hand shot up to Castiel's face, grabbing his chin and wrenching his head to the side. "You see this?" the Devil asked, forcing the angel to take in a wide, panoramic view. "This Cage was built for me, you see? My kingdom, as it were. This, and everything in it, is mine. You waltzed right in, bold as brass," he said, tipping Castiel's face back so that the angel was gazing over his shoulder at his brother. Lucifer's eyes were cold, as his thumb began caressing Castiel's cheek once again, lightly grazing his lips. The insane smile flashed in the lightning of the Cage sky. "So yes, Castiel… you belong to me."
"Stop that," the lesser angel growled, feeling his breaths start to quicken in panic. He doubted these gentle touches were an act of kindness. "I don't like it."
With a low rumble of laughter, Lucifer leaned in closer to Castiel's ear. The angel shuddered as his brother whispered,
"I don't care."
There was a light shink of metal, and Castiel's angel blade appeared in front of his face, Lucifer delicately tracing it around Castiel's left eye as he walked back around the trapped angel. Now Castiel could feel himself hyperventilating, breaths ragged and terrified as he heard Sam's muffled pleas from the ground.
"I'm going to kill you again," Lucifer hissed, cruelty icy in his voice as he slid the sharp blade down to Castiel's stomach, popping off the buttons of his shirt one at a time. Each one made the angel flinch with fear, the metal frigid on his bare skin. Lucifer pushed the shirt and coat aside, Castiel's naked torso a blank canvas to carve into. "But slowly. We're going to give Sam a good, long break, Castiel."
The angel swallowed, wishing he could hide his fear, the dark pit in his stomach deeper than all of Hell. His body trembled, giving him away, and his voice was shaking. "Lucifer…"
"Shhh," Lucifer crooned as before, their faces inches apart as he pressed the flat of the blade against Castiel's mouth. The Devil's free hand gently raked through the angel's hair, and once again the conjunction of tenderness and depravity chilled Castiel's soul and flooded his eyes with helpless tears. "Don't talk, my dear, dear little brother… Class is still in session. Let me tell you all the ways you're going to die."
Dean paced Bobby's living room, wearing the exact same line back and forth from one dusty bookshelf to the grimy window and back. His brow was furrowed, eyes latched onto the cleared space in the center of the room where Cas had disappeared from. Any second now, the angel would flap back in with Sam in tow.
Any second now.
"Dean, would you please sit down?" Bobby demanded yet again, but the younger hunter only turned a sharp about-face and stalked back towards the window.
"What's taking so long?" he grumbled. "Cas said he'd be back right away. Where the hell are they?"
"It's only been-"
"Six hours and almost twenty minutes!" Dean shouted, slamming a hand into the wall beside the window, before tracking right back for the book case with fire in his steps. "Damn it, Bobby, that's over a month down there! A friggin' month, he should have been back by now!"
Dean swore, glaring at the crackling radio so ferociously that it was a miracle the thing didn't explode. Bobby was still insisting on keeping an ear to the ground to make sure there were no demons leaping out of the woodworks, but Dean was about ready to chuck the thing out the window. A month, trapped with Lucifer—and that wasn't counting the six that Sam would have spent on his own.
"What if Lucifer caught him?" the anxious hunter snapped, turning to Bobby in the hopes of getting some kind of reassurance. "Maybe…"
He trailed off, because he couldn't say the words. Maybe Cas shouldn't have gone in after Sam. But how could he even think it? How could Dean even think that it would be better to leave his brother in the Pit? And yet, how could he have sent his best friend in after him, just to be caught and tortured right along with Sam? If Dean had known that the Devil would capture Cas, he wouldn't have allowed the warrior angel to even try. But… he was glad Cas had suggested it.
Shit, what kind of person was he?
"I need a drink," Dean grumbled, heading towards the kitchen, only to have Bobby jump to his feet and block the doorway with a warning glare.
"You're cut off, remember?" the grizzled hunter said. "Forget it."
"Bobby… I'm about two seconds from ripping a hole in the wall. Give me a drink!"
Bobby only shook his head. "Nope."
"Why not!?"
Instead of caving into his rage—as though Bobby Singer had ever caved to anything in his life—the older hunter gave him a look of exasperation and snapped back, "Because you were at the bar flirting with a coat rack, Dean."
Growling in frustration, Dean spun back around, as Bobby finished, "Cas and I had to pull your drunk ass out. Now look, Sam's gonna need you when he gets back, so's Cas. They're gonna need you sober, so you ain't getting within ten feet of a bottle until then, got it?"
Okay, so he'd lost control a little, that first night without Sam. But damn it, if he didn't do something, Dean was going to lose a hell of a lot more than that. The hunter shook his head. "Something's gone wrong. I know it. I should have gone, too."
"Oh, great plan, that way Lucifer could have had all three of you idjits. You heard Cas, he said he couldn't have carried both of you out, or you know I woulda been jumping right in with ya."
Yeah, and why couldn't the angel carry more than one person out of Hell? Wasn't he supposed to be stronger now, restored grace and all? Something was just wrong with all of this, and Dean had had enough. His baby brother and his best friend needed him, and he couldn't keep sitting on his thumb, waiting around.
"I'll be back," he snapped, grabbing his keys and storming out the door before Bobby could stop him.
If something had happened to Cas, it was his fault for not stopping the angel. If something happened to Sammy, it was still his fault, for not letting the angel go sooner, for agreeing to Sam's stupid plan in the first place. Sure, the world had been saved, but now it was a world without Sammy or the one decent angel in the whole damn bunch… and what the hell kind of world was that?
Jumping into the Impala, Dean started his baby up and sent her tearing down the road in search of the first crossroads he could find. His eyes narrowed with cold determination.
He was getting Sam and Cas back… one way or another.
Chapter 3: I'll Face the Devil By Your Side
Notes:
More creepiness in store here, but the worst is over. Continue to tread carefully if Lucifer ickiness is a trigger for you, but there's no slashy things
Chapter Text
Being killed was disorienting, and Castiel was no longer certain how long he and Sam had been in Lucifer's clutches. Measuring time meant little to an angel even under the best conditions, and so Castiel wasn't the best judge of it. Both he and Sam had been killed in so many different ways by now, and even with his grace to restore him back to health, the angel was starting to lose his spirit and his fight.
The worst was having to watch the horrific things that Lucifer did to Sam, just to be cruel, just because Sam had dared to stand up the Devil. Though Castiel took a share in the punishment, it was the human who suffered the majority of Lucifer's wrath while the angel was helpless to intervene, held back by his brother's far superior power.
At the moment, Sam was lying on the darkened floor, nothing but a single circle around his ankle to bind him to the ground. His hands were free, but a blindfold of shadow covered his eyes—Lucifer's way of giving the young man visions to torment him when he was bored of the physical abuse.
Sam was currently writhing on the floor, broken and cracked voice crying out without end, alternating between Dean's name and Castiel's.
Castiel looked away, fighting back nausea at the barbarity. He was kneeling, sitting back on his heels by the large boulder in the clearing of the Garden. Though the warrior angel wasn’t bound at the moment, Lucifer was seated on a ledge of the same boulder, one hand resting on Castiel's head to prevent him from moving to help Sam. It irked the angel, but it was better than being chained on the rock or between the two shriveled trees that he'd quickly come to hate.
"Dean!" Sam moaned, curling up into a ball, the picture of brokenness. "Dean, I- I'm so sorry…"
Castiel closed his eyes, shifting with the restless desire to jump in and stop this, but Lucifer chuckled, restraining hand not moving.
"He's experiencing what would have happened if I'd won," the archangel informed his prisoner, as casual as though he were discussing the weather. "You should see what we would do with you and his beloved Dean."
The angel didn't respond. He could easily imagine; it would have been exactly like this, except Lucifer would be wearing Sam's body, and Dean would be the one beside him being tortured. This was one of Lucifer's favorite new games, and Sam would be a wreck by the time the Devil released him from the hallucination.
"Would you like to see, dear brother?" Lucifer asked, fingers gently brushing Castiel's hair. Though the touch made him shudder, the angel didn't try to pull away anymore; that tended to make things worse. It sickened him that he'd stopped fighting, but he couldn't have released Sam from the vision even if he managed to break free from the Devil. Besides, he had to save his energy for the moment Lucifer let his guard down. They might only get one chance to escape.
"No," Castiel muttered, keeping his eyes closed. "I know what it looks like."
"You don't even want a little peek at what 'Sam' does to big brother Dean? It's unholy."
Castiel felt a tremble of fury race through his body, as Sam cried out again in anguished guilt for something that wasn't even really happening.
"You're a monster," Castiel growled, finally shifting in an attempt to put some space between himself and Lucifer. The hand tightened in his hair, slamming him back against the boulder hard enough for even the steadfast angel to gasp in pain.
"Me?" asked Lucifer, sliding off the boulder so he could stand over Castiel, who didn't dare try to get up with his brother still holding him down with a firm grip. "Oh, no. You throw that word around as though you're better than me, but I've got news for you, Castiel… I've killed very few in my lifetime, compared to you."
"Only because there are others to do your dirty work-" Castiel cut off with a soft cry, breathing fast and heavy as his own angel blade drew a red line of blood down his cheek.
"Your hands are dripping with blood," Lucifer hissed, menacing eyes boring into Castiel as he held the blade aloft in clear threat. "Every death I caused was necessary, for a purpose of my choosing, for something I believed in. What did you kill for? Acting on orders without question, without thought, for nothing that mattered to you. I see the murders on your soul, the blood soaking the ground from your hand. Side by side, Castiel, the ones I've killed form a pile, while yours form a mountain."
"I…" The warrior's protest died on his lips, and his eyes burned. It was true, he'd killed so many, believing they were orders from God… of course it had only been Michael and Raphael, and those human lives were on his hands. But…
"But what?" Lucifer asked with a mocking smile, drawing Castiel's horrified eyes. "Yes, I hear your mind. I know your thoughts, just like I know your intentions to escape with Sam. How noble of you, willing to sacrifice it all."
Castiel licked dry lips, doubly afraid now. Lucifer had known all along? How were they ever going to escape?
"You're not going to escape, dear brother," the Devil replied to his thought with a laugh. "And even if you did, what would you do? I can see that you know what it would cost to leave. It makes me sick that you would even consider lowering yourself to such a degree. You disgust me. You think your beloved Dean would take you back, after that? No. There would be no place for you, in Heaven or on Earth, if you left here now. Oh, he would be grateful, of course, for the return of his brother, but in the end… you'll be useless. Meaningless. The angels will hunt you down, and the humans will cast you out."
Another sinister laugh filled the Cage, as Castiel tried to drown out the words. His eyes fell closed, until Lucifer gave him a harsh shake to get his attention.
"Dean doesn't know, does he? How many human lives were lost because of you? Certainly not, or he'd hunt you like the other monsters."
"I'm not a monster," Castiel whispered, though his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.
"Oh, but you are," Lucifer replied in a low croon, as he took a step backwards so that Castiel had to shift forward on his knees. "Let me show you, brother." Finally, the hand released Castiel, an air of anticipation and delight filling the Devil's words. "You are every bit the monster that I am. Let me show you every ounce of pain you have caused others in your lifetime, and you tell me who is the monster."
There was no warning, no time to prepare. Screams ripped through the dark garden as Castiel fell to the ground, hands clutching his head as he thrashed and writhed in the shadows. He was on fire, burning alive, but not like how Lucifer had burned him to death before. This time, the fire that flooded his body and soul was accompanied by the howls and cries of every single life he himself had taken, and his pain was their pain, returned to him.
It was the worst agony and the worst torture Castiel had suffered yet, because this was what he had done.
Male, female, all ages and all races, these were the humans he had murdered or allowed to die on the order of his superiors, and that was a torment the good-hearted angel couldn't bear.
He was dying again… Even for a seraph, this was too much pain, and the voices that screamed to him for mercy that he hadn't shown was destroying him from the inside out.
Somewhere in the dim background, there was uproarious laughter; he thought he heard Lucifer telling him that he would burn these voices into Castiel's ears so that he would hear them forever, but the angel was already succumbing to blissful death, however brief that would be.
The angel woke yet again, huddled in a tight ball on the ground with the uncomfortable feeling of blood dripping down his cheeks from his tortured ears. For the first time, he felt utterly defeated. So much pain that he had caused in his lifetime… so much senseless death. Lucifer, evil though he was, had been right in calling Castiel the monster. Perhaps the angel deserved this new torture that Lucifer had used on him, killing him so many times in such rapid succession that he was even more disoriented.
This time when he returned to life, there was no immediate onslaught of agony and screams from his own victims, though the angel trembled and tensed on the black floor, waiting. When no attack came, and he heard no sound from either Lucifer or Sam, Castiel peeled his eyes open with difficulty.
At some point in between his several recent deaths, Lucifer must have decided Sam had had enough for a while, for the blindfold had been removed, ending the vision. Castiel's heart lurched with panic as he caught sight of Sam's face in the flash of the continuous lightning. It was the same deadened, empty gaze as when the angel had first found him.
"Sam…" Castiel croaked, reaching a feeble hand towards his friend. The hunter's eyes flicked in his vague direction, but didn't move otherwise from where he still lay on the ground. "Sam… it wasn't real… Dean's safe…"
"Ah, Castiel, welcome back," Lucifer cut over him, sounding smug. Castiel's head tipped back, only now seeing his brother standing over him. A flash of light illuminated the Devil, his eyes lit with insane, feral glee, as he growled, "Now that you're both alive again, I thought we could really have some fun-"
Castiel never found out what sort of "fun" Lucifer had planned, though he was certain it wouldn't be the sort Dean liked, with pie and alcohol and some kind of public embarrassment that he called "karaoke". From high above, there was a sudden low growl of echoing thunder, cutting the Devil off as he and his two prisoners looked up at the strobing energy lighting the Cage ceiling.
"Michael came back much quicker this time. I'll have to go take care of that," Lucifer informed them with a shrug and a cold smile. "Sam, save your energy… you're going to need it when I get back."
With an ominous chuckle, the Devil flew off, while Sam curled in on himself with a shudder of despair. Castiel, however, felt his heart leap in his chest. Lucifer hadn't tied him up before leaving this time. It looked like Sam was still chained by one ankle, but if the angel could move fast enough… he would prefer Sam safe on Earth with a foot missing than trapped here forever. Castiel might even have time to heal him before exiting the Cage…
Lurching forward, Castiel scrambled to get his feet under him, eyes locked on the unmoving Sam, but either Lucifer had heard his thoughts, or the shadows had a mind of their own. Tendrils of darkness slashed up through the air, cutting off his path. Serpentine, they circled around and then flew towards the angel.
The shadows formed lethal barbs in midair, piercing the soldier with white hot flashes of pain, and once again, the agonized screams filled the Cage. Castiel felt something hard hit him from behind, before realizing that he had struck the boulder.
With sharp, quick breaths, Castiel painfully twisted his head first one way, then the other, taking in the sight of his own arms pinned to the rock by the spear-like shadows that arched from the floor. More of the darkness nailed his outstretched legs to the ground, as blood and glowing grace mixed to ooze out from around a dozen wounds.
"Nice try, Castiel," a voice laughed from the shadows themselves, as the angel's face crumpled with a soft, agonized sob. So much for escape. Oh, Heaven, it hurt, burning with the ferocity of an archangel's blade, and his body couldn't heal around the puncturing barbs while they were still in place… but he couldn't pull free because they were still attached to the shadowy mass covering the ground.
"Cas…"
The angel looked up, to see Sam dragging himself over, barely inching along the garden floor. The human still looked lost, but there was a sense of determination as well. The black restraint around his ankle gave him just enough slack to crawl up to the boulder, slumping against it beside Castiel.
"Hang on," Sam murmured, eyes half closing as his shaky hands fumbled to tear a strip off of the already tattered remnants of his plaid shirt. Castiel blinked in surprise, momentarily distracted from the agony, as his friend started dabbing at the gleaming blood seeping out around the blackness.
Tortured beyond the human capacity for pain, emotionally traumatized in the most horrific ways, with the threat of something unspeakable waiting for him when Lucifer returned, and yet Sam's first course of action was to drag himself over to the angel to offer the little comfort he could. It did no good, of course, but Castiel's heart clenched with the simple hope that such an action brought.
"Sam," he said, flinching with a gasp as a stab of pain raced up his arm. "Of all the mistakes I've ever made… believing you were an abomination was the biggest."
Sam paused, looking up at the angel blearily, before shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."
"It does. We were blind. I was blind. You're nothing like they said."
"Hold still, Cas. I'm trying to get the bleeding stopped."
They lapsed into silence for a moment, before Sam murmured, "Why would you do it, Cas? Why would you come in after me? You had to know what would happen if Lucifer caught you."
The angel watched him work, still wincing against the pain, but he shrugged as best as he could. "Why did you jump?"
Sam caught his eye for a second, then returned to his work. "Dean's safe," he explained in a hoarse whisper as his face softened. "The world is safe. It's worth it."
"It's worth it," the angel repeated, leaning back against the rock and staring up at the flashing sky. If only his angel brethren could hear Sam's words. Would it change their minds about humanity? Would they finally see what Castiel marveled at in humankind? "And that's why I came after you."
That was why he would pay the toll, as soon as they managed to escape. That was why he would choose Dean and Sam and the broken world, every single time.
"I- I'm not," Sam whispered. Castiel's eyes sought him once more, and the angel managed a weak smile.
"You are," he countered. "You're my… my friend."
The word came out hesitantly, for Castiel had never actually used it before, and he wasn't sure if he was overstepping some invisible boundary. He and the Winchesters had worked together, certainly, but perhaps that merely made them comrades, allies. And yet, the kinship he felt for them, after all they'd been through together, felt deeper than that.
To his tired relief, Sam returned the smile, reddened eyes half-closing again in exhaustion as he murmured, "You're family… Cas…"
"Family…" Castiel's heart burned, but this time it wasn't from pain or fear. Though the angel could hardly believe what Sam had said, recalling Lucifer's cruel reminder of how many lives he'd taken, it was still enough hope to restore his dwindling strength.
Beside him, Sam slumped back, giving in to the blissful unconsciousness that would be the last reprieve he had for a while, once Lucifer returned. Castiel sighed in frustration that both his hands were spiked to the rock; if he could reach Sam, he could have at least healed whatever physical injuries remained, returning the same gesture of comfort.
Family. Could he have actually meant that, or was Sam merely delirious with pain?
A tremendous crack of thunder that shook the entire Cage made Castiel try to jerk upright, eliciting another agonized groan as the black spikes refused to budge. The angel had never heard anything like that; his stomach dropped as he wondered in a panic if perhaps Michael was putting up a fight at last. If so, he and Sam were in deep trouble.
"Sam-" Castiel croaked, but another thunderous boom flattened him back down on the boulder, eyes wide with shock at the pure power he felt coursing through the air. A mighty wind was picking up, though there was no source, and then, quite suddenly, the shadowy floor flickered… and then died.
The black, solidified darkness that had nailed him down vanished, leaving Castiel to collapse onto his side as his body immediately finished the healing process. His head whipped this way and that, not understanding what was going on. The surrounding trees, indeed the entire Cage, was still as dark as ever, but the evil shadows were gone.
"Lucifer," Castiel murmured, eyes widening. "The shadows were part of him…"
Which meant, if they had died…
"Sam!" the angel gasped as he grabbed his friend. "We have to go! We have to go now!"
But though Castiel could heal the physical wounds, Sam's mind and soul were so abused that he refused to wake, more than to give a soft groan and roll over on the blank, dark ground. There was no time, Castiel would just have to carry him to the edge of the Cage—though how he would find the way was beyond him. But Michael was coming, and he had to act immediately.
"So... you are here, Castiel."
He was too late.
Dean wiped the dirt from his hands as he stood up from the center of the crossroads, his eyes already narrowed in preparation. This might be a long shot, but it was the only one he had.
"Well, well. Dean Winchester," an accented voice grumbled, and the hunter felt a rush of satisfaction that it was the voice he'd actually been hoping to hear for a change. "Missed me already, did you? That really touches me in all my happy places."
Ignoring this, the hunter stepped towards the crossroad demon, jaw set and expression grim. Crowley only raised his eyebrows, not backing away or looking intimidated. "I want to make a deal," Dean told him with no room for argument in his voice. Crowley's eyebrows rose even higher.
"A deal. The answer's no, Squirrel."
"I haven't even told you what-"
"Let me guess," the demon interrupted him. He clasped his hands behind his back, looking up ruminatively. "Moose jumped into the Pit, as per the plan, and now you've had a change of heart and want him back. Can't do it. And before you waste your time, no demon in their right mind is going anywhere near that Cage. Moose is gone, Squirrel. Move on."
"Cas went after him."
This seemed to give Crowley pause, an expression of surprise flitting across his otherwise schooled face, but he quickly returned to his normal superior, snarky expression. "I see. Well, good luck with that. If that's all-"
"He hasn't come back yet. I need you to go help him."
Crowley scoffed. "What do I bloody look like? Lassie? Go help little Castiel who fell down the well? The only reason I helped you stuff Lucifer back in his box is because it saved my skin. I'm not coming anywhere near this one."
Raising his chin, expression tight, Dean took a deep breath, then replied, "I can make it worth it… with my soul."
It would put them exactly where they'd been when this whole mess had started, of course. The idea of going back to Hell was almost more than he could stand… the only worse fate would be to know that Sam was there instead. If Crowley could pull his brother and Cas out of the Cage, then it was worth it. He was prepared.
Crowley, however, didn't seem to be. The demon only laughed, shaking his head and shooting Dean a sardonic look. "No deal. As much as the idea of you in eternal torment makes me all quivery inside, you'd find some way to muck Hell up for me. Let the angels deal with you when you die, and see how they like it."
It had never occurred to Dean that the offer might actually be refused, and he gaped at the demon now. "I'm offering my soul!"
"And I'm turning it down. You'll have to sweeten the pot a lot more than that if you think I'm going to even consider going down there."
Dean didn't miss the hungry gleam in Crowley's eye, and his guard instantly went up. "Yeah? What'd you have in mind?" he asked, suspicious through long experience.
"Well, you see," the demon said with relish, taking on an unassuming air that didn't fool the hunter. "Thanks to you boys and your motley crew, Hell no longer has a king, and… I want it."
Blinking, Dean felt his jaw drop. "You're joking, right? How am I supposed to give you Hell?"
"You? I can get it on my own, you twat!" Crowley retorted with deeply affronted expression. "But I've seen what happens to the demons who underestimate you, so I'll put this in small words for you: leave me alone."
No sound could be heard but the crickets in the background. Dean stood in the dark, staring at Crowley in tight disbelief. He should have expected this. "Let me get this straight," he growled, taking a menacing step towards the demon. "You want us to give you free rein of the Earth?"
"No," Crowley countered, for all the world like Dean was being deliberately dense. "I want free rein of Hell. I don't want the Earth, you can keep it. And yes, we'll still be in the business of making deals, same as before, and everything goes back to normal, the way it was. I could just have you killed, but I'm a businessman. I'd rather make a deal. You promise not to come after me, and I'll see what I can do about your oh-so-noble brother and your feathery sidekick."
The hunter glared at Crowley for a long moment, weighing his options. Giving himself up for Sammy and Cas was one thing; giving up countless humans was harder. Sam wouldn't approve. Of course, he wouldn't have approved of Dean selling his soul, either. But what Sammy didn't know couldn't hurt him.
"Even if I agree to this," Dean said, still cautious, "Even if we don't hunt you down, we're still gonna gank any demon we come across."
Crowley mulled over this, then shrugged carelessly. "Separates the wheat from the chaff for me, fair enough."
"And you'll go into the Cage and-"
"Into the Cage?! Are you out of your pea-sized mind? I said I'd help, I never said I'd make the same mistake those morons made. Into the Cage." Crowley snorted and shook his head, while Dean had to hold himself back to keep from attacking.
"Then how the hell are you going to help them? Look, just go in-"
"Just go in, he says, very brilliant. And how am I supposed to bloody get back out again, eh?"
"You-" Dean broke off, a chill leaving him frozen. He'd assumed they'd get back out the same way they'd gotten in… For a moment, he and Crowley could just stare at each other, each looking confused, until the demon's face lit into a wide smile.
"So you don't know!" he exclaimed. "Oh, that is rich. Did it never occur to you, Squirrel, that if an angel or a demon could just walk out of the Cage, it wouldn't be a very bloody effective way to contain an archangel. Your precious Cas is going to pay a heavy price."
"What price?!" Dean demanded, lurching forward and grabbing Crowley by the front of his black suit jacket, not caring that it was a demon he was threatening with only his bare hands as a weapon. "What are you talking about!? Cas didn't say anything about a price!"
"Oh, you'll see soon enough," Crowley assured him with an ominous smirk, not attempting to pull free. "Is it a ruddy deal or not? I'll agree to go as far as the Cage itself and make sure Moose and Kitten get back safely, but they'll have to get out of the Cage on their own. And you let me take over Hell, and you stay out of my way, indefinitely."
Dean was shaking with fury and dismay, desperate to know what this price was going to be, wanting to rip this smarmy demon apart limb from limb! There was still no guarantee that they'd even be able to escape on their own…
"Take it or leave it," Crowley snapped, his smirk falling away to a cold glare as Dean released him. "I'd take it if I were you. Unless you want the Devil making Sammy his bitch for all eternity. And now an angel in the mix? Double your pleasure, double your fun." Crowley shuddered. "Too feathery for my taste, but Lucifer's an angel, too, after all, I suppose he wouldn't mind. How long did you say they'd been gone? It's been almost two days, right? So in Hell, it's been-"
"Alright!" Dean yelled. His hands came up to run through his hair, and the hunter tried not to lose his shit completely. "Alright, it's a deal!" He'd pay the price. Hell, he'd pay any price to get Sammy and Cas out of there. Dean felt sick, trying not to let Crowley's taunts make his imagination run wild. He had to do something, and if that meant giving Crowley a free pass, then so be it. "Just go get them out!"
"Knew you'd see it my way." Crowley was gloating, but Dean didn't care. "Oh, and one more thing, Squirrel. I've got my street cred to think about. If anyone—anyone—finds out I helped an angel and a human out of Hell, I will personally drag both of them right back down to Lucifer. Get it?"
He'd pushed the bounds, and now Dean stepped forward once again; his own expression was as dark as a demon's. "Fine. But if anything—anything—happens to them, and they don't make it back up? Then Hell won't be deep enough for you to hide from me. Get it?"
Crowley eyed him, then shuddered dramatically. "I'm shaking in my shoes."
Dean's hands flashed out faster than lightning, twisting into the demon's coat once again, dragging him close. They stood, inches apart, and Crowley must have seen the very real danger, because he fell still as Dean growled out in lethal promise,
"You should be."
There was a pause, and Crowley didn't seem quite as cocky now. It took a moment for him to regain his composure, but when he pulled away from Dean, he appeared as calm as could be. "Well then," the demon said with a smirk. "It's a deal. Remember, Squirrel… this never happened."
"Just get them out," Dean started to snarl, but Crowley was already gone.
Chapter 4: For Brothers We Shall Always Be
Chapter Text
Castiel whipped around at the sound of the voice, gasping in terrified shock, to see Michael, also in his original form, standing between him and what he believed was the direction that would lead them out. Theoretically, any direction would take them to the border—eventually. But if the inside was infinitely large, that might take longer than they could afford. His best bet was the way he'd come in, but first he'd have to get through his oldest brother.
The archangel crossed his arms, face cold; in one hand, Castiel saw his own angel blade. Michael must have taken it from Lucifer, and he himself had no weapon to stand against the might of the oldest archangel.
Desperation took over. Castiel grabbed a low hanging branch from one of the accursed trees, snapping it off as easily as a twig, before leaping over Sam in a protective stance and brandishing the shriveled tree limb in spite of the absurdity of the attempt. His heart was pounding with fear. Lucifer might be gone—for the moment—but Michael was just as lethal if not more so, with just as much reason to be thirsty for vengeance against them.
Michael merely narrowed his eyes and jerked his chin to the side; the branch went flying from Castiel's grip, and now he had nothing. He was fast, but he couldn't out-fly an archangel while carrying Sam.
The angel gritted his teeth, holding out one hand in the futile hopes of keeping his brother away from the unconscious human, and waited.
"I thought I felt you here, while I was reviving," Michael said, stepping towards them. Castiel growled, crouching in preparation to fight bare-handed if necessary. "So I had to come investigate."
"You will not harm Sam Winchester!" Castiel snapped. Making bold demands that he had no means of backing up was starting to become habit.
The archangel replied with a harsh laugh, taking another step forward. "Castiel, you seem… distressed. Not happy to see your own brother?"
"I've had my fill of brothers," Castiel snorted honestly. The shadows that Lucifer had been using to keep them bound, extensions of himself, were gone; but Michael would have his own method of restraining them, and Castiel doubted they would be gentler. "But I won't let you hurt him."
"Believe me, the idea has crossed my mind. This is both of your faults," Michael spat out in accusation. "I would love to rip you to pieces for your interference. You just couldn't do as you were told. I should have expected it from a human, but you, Castiel?"
"Just tell me why!" Castiel demanded. If he could just distract the archangel, get him talking… "Heaven, the Apocalypse, everything. You orchestrated it all, why would you do it?! You lied to me, you lied to all of us. It was never even God. Our home, our brethren, are ruined because of you, tell me why!"
"Why?" Michael retorted, drawing himself up. His eyes flashed, every bit the warrior that Castiel had stood in the awe and fear of for so long. "You want to know why?" He snorted, expression tightening into a sneer of disdain, and the archangel shook his head. "I see. You stand there and judge me, as if you have any idea, as if you have any right! You could never understand!"
Castiel understood that his home was gone. He understood that he'd been made to help betray the humans he cared about. He understood that there was blood on his hands that shouldn't have been, voices of those he'd killed crying out in his mind, that filled him with pain. He understood that his own brothers had cast him out, tried to kill him, because he hadn't wanted to go along with it all.
"Then explain it to me! How could you have fallen so far? God trusted you, we trusted you, but you turned into this. How can you possibly justify what you've done?"
There was a quiet shudder from behind him, the softest of moans; Castiel reached back towards Sam again, risking a look down to make sure the human was still with him. He prepared to grab his friend and at least try to outrun Michael, should the archangel attack. Instead, Michael glared at him and shouted,
"You couldn't begin to fathom my pain, Castiel!"
The lesser angel paused. There was pain in Michael's voice, but perhaps that was only a trick. Castiel studied his brother, frowning, as the archangel ranted,
"I was the oldest! They were my responsibility! Lucifer was my responsibility! All of them, Raphael, Gabriel, all the lesser angels... I was supposed to protect them, watch out for them, and yes, even to keep them in line! Do you know what that's like?" he demanded, prowling back and forth now, eyes always burning into Castiel. The younger angel didn't move, but continued to shift so that Sam was still out of the way.
"Have you ever tried to keep Lucifer in line?" Michael asked, then snorted. "To keep Gabriel out of trouble? Lucifer was my brother, and I loved him! Do you know what it's like, to be told one moment that it's your job to watch out for your little brother, and the next minute to be told that it's your destiny to fight him to the death!?"
This time, Castiel froze. An icy claw dug into his skin, ripping its way towards his heart. As a matter of fact, he hadn't considered that. But Lucifer and Michael had been fighting so much at that point, by the time he was old enough to even remember the fallen archangel...
"This is my fault!" Michael snapped, still pacing, but now Castiel wasn't so sure the anger was directed at him, specifically. "This is my failure!
"The Apocalypse?" Castiel asked uncertainly, still preparing to flee. But Michael had already spun towards him, one hand slashing out in a negating motion, as he shouted,
"No! Lucifer! I was supposed to save him, and I failed!"
The two brothers stood staring at each other as Michael's words echoed through the Cage. Failed… failed… failed… Castiel's mouth opened but he didn't say anything, watching the archangel in shock. There was more than just the usual rage in that face in the flashing light; pain and regret flooded the space between them, and the lesser angel couldn't find a reply.
The silence expanded, a heated despair ballooning through the dark Cage, and Michael closed his eyes with an uncharacteristic slump to his proud shoulders.
"I did everything I could," he murmured, voice falling now as anger abandoned him for agony. "I tried to get him to see that duty was more important than his own desires. I tried so hard, because I could see where his desires were taking him... I knew where that road would end. Father and I, we saw it in him. And do you know... what Father said to me?"
Anguished eyes opened, meeting Castiel's, nearly sending him reeling once more. Michael shook his head, holding a hand out, as though giving an offering of his own shredded soul.
"He said... if I didn't save Lucifer, I would have to destroy him."
Again, silence fell. Castiel was torn, torn between regret for having asked the question, and horror at the answers they received. His mouth opened again, closed, opened. But no words came. What possible response could he give? He was still struggling to process this at all, the story he'd asked for and yet never expected.
Was it true? Uncertainty clouded his heart, no longer knowing what to believe. Was this perhaps a trick to catch him off guard? But Michael didn't have to resort to such lies, he had Castiel at his mercy as it was. What purpose could the deception serve?
Michael didn't notice or didn't address Castiel's doubts; he only exhaled sharply, a breathy laugh of disbelief.
"What kind of sick bastard would put that on their son?" Michael asked, turning his head. Somehow his grief-stricken voice was worse than his stentorian shouts that Castiel was used to. "Do you know what that does to someone? To be told to kill their own brother? To have that weight, that responsibility, put on you? I tried so hard to save him, Castiel, because I loved him, but every effort only pushed him farther away. Finally he fell, and it was just… it was just too much for me."
Overcome, Michael turned his back, leaving Castiel to stare, to gape, to cringe away from the needles stabbing his heart as the story unfolded.
"I couldn't bear the pain," the archangel explained, flat and listless. His hands were clenched, and Castiel could see his back fill with tension, ramrod straight. "So I turned to Father, looking for help. And you know what I found?"
The swiftest of silences was followed by one word, the answer hissing through the Cage, piercing Castiel's heart:
"Nothing."
Michael turned back around, face shadowed in a bitter mask of grief and rage. "I reached out for someone to lean on, and nobody was there. He put the weight of the universe on my shoulders, and then he just disappeared!"
He stepped towards Castiel, who immediately flung out an arm again, as though he could have stopped his brother from taking Sam even if he'd tried, but Michael ignored this.
"Somebody had to step up," he snapped, voice starting to rise again as he gestured wildly. "Somebody had to take care of everyone, and it fell to me! It was my duty, and I had to take up a mantel that I had to pretend I was even ready for!"
"But, why..." Castiel interrupted, finding his voice as he shook his head in confusion. He swallowed against the lump suddenly impeding his throat. "Why didn't you tell anybody? You knew Father was gone all that time-"
"What would I have told them?" Michael snarled, taking another step forward. "I looked everywhere for Father! I tore Creation apart looking for him, but he was gone, and how could I face everyone and tell them that? How could I tell them that they had been abandoned? And so I kept going. I told everyone the orders were still from Father, and I carried that weight alone! I did everything he asked of me, everything he wanted! I was a good son! I didn't deserve what he did to me!"
He was pacing again, back and forth in short circuits, but both he and Castiel were drowning in the waves of his brokenness, his hopelessness.
And in that moment, Castiel saw not the indefatigable soldier, not the Warrior of Heaven, but the brother who'd had too much put on his shoulders, the son who had raced through the heavens on a terrified, desperate search for the father who had left him with a burden that was slowly destroying him.
Did anybody deserve that fate?
"I had already lost Lucifer," Michael raged on, eyes brewing thunder. "I couldn't even hold myself together, yet I had to carry all of Heaven! Why should that have been put on me? And how could I have put any of that burden on my own brothers? My sisters? Who would I have told? Lucifer was fallen, Raphael has been two steps from corruption himself ever since, and Gabriel?"
There was a sharp bark of laughter, as Castiel's overwhelmed eyes followed the tracks of his brother's maddened pacing.
"Gabriel was too busy staying out of it to understand that I didn't have that luxury!" the archangel finished with a snap. "I did everything I could to hold us together, but all I did was fail. I lost Lucifer, I lost Gabriel…" Here, he paused, closing his eyes briefly, and he wavered. Castiel thought Michael might crumble, but he only shook his head and whispered, "Heaven, how that killed me…"
Another short pause. Castiel didn't speak.
"And yes," Michael went on. "I went too far! Yes, I made mistakes! But I did my best! And my best was never going to be good enough. Not for Lucifer, and apparently not for you!" One last time, Michael whirled towards his younger brother, hand outstretched, this time with a finger jabbing Castiel's way in condemnation, as he snarled, "So you can stand there and judge me, Castiel, but I defy you to have done any better!"
Slowly, Castiel shook his head, not sure what to say, or how to even process this. Though he hated what Michael had done, he'd never considered the path that had taken the oldest of the angels there in the first place. "But…" he whispered. "If you didn't want this… why did you go through with the fight?"
"What else could I do?" the archangel demanded. "Father had commanded it! All I wanted was to prove myself to him! I thought if I could just make Father proud, he would return. I was so sure that he would intervene in the last minute - that he would save us, as we stepped in to save Isaac! So where is he, Castiel?! I did what he asked of me, and the only one who was saved was you? Father didn't even bother returning to Heaven, did he?" he asked with disdain.
The lesser angel looked away, shoulders slumping. He couldn't respond, but it was clear that he didn't need to.
"No, of course not," Michael snapped. "He's not coming back." He laughed, but it was hollow and cold, an echo of bitterness instead of humor. "Of course, that means that everything… what I did to Heaven, what I did to the Earth, all the angels who were killed… Every drop of blood that was spilled because of this… I lost everything... for nothing."
There was a long silence, the pain so tangible that Castiel felt it in his bones. He would have never guessed that Michael was even capable of such feeling; he'd always just assumed that his brother was the archetype of an emotionless soldier, willing to obey any order. He had never seen his oldest brother so much as bat an eye, nor crack a smile. He'd never seen a single emotion or feeling make it past the wall that he'd built.
All this time… had he been wrong?
Michael had made the wrong choices, but… the angel had been assuming it was done in the pursuit of power, not from the pressure of it.
"Why… why tell me this now?" he finally asked.
"Do you still not see, Castiel?" Michael sighed, shaking his head and turning away. "I can never go home again. I can never tell my family… how sorry I am. The truth will come out now that I'm gone, that it was never God... it was me. And when they tell my story, they will say that I was the tyrant who led Heaven to ruin. I, who loved Heaven first. I, who witnessed the creation of every angel after me. And they'll be right. This is justice, the purest justice I could have asked for. But I suppose, I just thought... Perhaps the penance would be a little easier... If I knew there was even one angel… who didn't hate me now."
Castiel's throat tightened, unable to respond. He watched as Michael turned back towards him, tears in his eyes, probably for the first time in millennia.
"Try not to think too ill of me, brother," the archangel said brokenly. "I did the best I could."
It took a moment before Castiel could move any words around the lump in his throat, his own eyes burning. He couldn't forgive his brother—not yet. What he'd done to Heaven, what he'd done to Sam and Dean, that would take time, but just having the truth out in the air between them, hearing the genuine sorrow from the archangel, still went a long way.
"Michael," Castiel finally managed to get out, expression pained. "You can still leave. There's still a chance-"
"For what? For me? Brother, I'm done," sighed Michael. "Lucifer was my responsibility, my failure, and I'm staying here. It's where I belong. But you…" Michael shook his head, giving Castiel a strange look. "You flew in here… just for some human? You know the price you'll pay, in order to leave."
"I do."
"You understand that there's only one way the Cage will let you go? You understand that this won't be reversible. It's permanent."
Castiel nodded, wincing. He'd been trying not to think too hard about that, but he could still feel Sam behind him, a bright and burning soul that shone with goodness… and he remembered Sam's words.
It's worth it.
"I know the toll," he said out loud.
"Yet you came for him anyway." The archangel's face was inscrutable, almost puzzled. Then, he sighed again. "I don't understand your loyalty to them. I don't understand why Sam Winchester jumped in. Why would you follow, knowing the toll? I don't understand how any angel could sacrifice everything, for them. It disgusts me how willingly you lower yourself. But, if you really think you can do it…"
Castiel held his breath, watching his brother. Did this mean…? Michael met his eyes, his expression hardening. Then, the archangel flipped the blade in his hand, extending the hilt towards Castiel.
"This punishment is for myself and Lucifer," he declared. "You don't belong here. As much as I despise you and Lucifer's vessel for getting me trapped here, it's justice. You… just go."
Even now, Castiel felt his heart stutter with sudden fear, wary eyes watching Michael as he reached a cautious hand out to accept the blade. He was waiting for a sudden attack, but the archangel dropped his arm back to his side as Castiel clenched his weapon. There was power boiling in Michael's gaze, a reminder that he could still destroy Castiel and Sam both with a snap of his fingers, and yet he didn't make a move towards them.
"Michael," Castiel said, looking away. "You could still help us fix things. You could-"
"I will not become like them," Michael snapped, a baleful eye cast towards Sam. "I'll stay and make sure Lucifer doesn't escape again. You might be willing to pay the toll back out, but I am not."
Again, Castiel hesitated, knowing that he was severely pushing his luck as he took a breath and asked, "And… Adam Milligan?"
This time, Michael actually rolled his eyes. "His soul has been in Heaven since you threw holy fire in my face. He was distracting me. I evicted him, he's fine. Now get out, Castiel, before-"
The ground beneath them shook, and an unholy screeching filled the air. Castiel's eyes widened; he didn't need to be told what that was. Darkness was starting to creep into the ground once again, as Michael spun around with blazing eyes.
"Go, Castiel!" he shouted, one arm sweeping out as the lesser angel gathered Sam up, cradling the human carefully. The black trees and bloody roses leaped to the side, parting to create a path that ran straight through the heart of the Cage. "It's that way! Take him, and get out!"
The earsplitting screech was getting closer, and Castiel didn't hesitate. He flew, faster than he'd ever flown before, following the path through the garden as tendrils of shadow started to spring from the ground once more, as Lucifer began to reclaim his foothold. Thunder roared overhead, the flashing of the ceiling illuminating the dead garden in a dizzying pattern.
Still Castiel flew, with his precious burden in his arms. He could only imagine the battle going on behind him, now that Michael was fighting back, now that the two archangels were finally getting to have fight they'd always been meant to have.
Destiny was fulfilled at last.
And up ahead, to Castiel's tearful relief, he could see the door.
Chapter 5: The Price I Pay, I'd Pay Again
Chapter Text
Castiel came to a halt, setting Sam down carefully as he looked at the Cage wall, flashing with dangerous and ethereal energy. He knew they didn't have much time, but the angel needed a second. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Now that the moment had come, his hands were shaking.
"Cas…" Sam's voice was ragged, his expression disoriented as he pushed himself up slightly. "What… what's happening?"
"We're leaving," Castiel explained softly. "Sam, this is about to get very dangerous." As though it wasn't already. "When we fly out, the demons will try to stop us. They'll most likely try to pull you away from me, so as soon as we're out, I'll need you to hold on as tight as you can."
The hunter still appeared alarmingly out of it, but he nodded. Castiel returned the gesture, then looked over his shoulder warily. The thunder was still crashing, rising in furious crescendos and shaking the entire Cage with deafening intensity, so Michael must still have been holding Lucifer at bay. It didn't escape him that Michael hadn't bothered fighting back until he'd realized Castiel was there as well, and he couldn't waste this unexpected chance he was being given.
Castiel took another shuddering breath and pulled out his blade. His normally firm grip felt sweaty and weak. Oh Heaven, he was frightened… But even losing everything he'd ever known, everything that he was, was worth it.
"Cas?" Sam asked suddenly, sounding a little stronger. "What are you doing?"
"What I have to," Castiel murmured as he settled the tip of the blade into the crook of his arm. He heard a gasp, and a hand grabbed his wrist. Sam was watching him with dismay, shaking his head.
"Don't…"
"Sam, this Cage was designed for Lucifer," the angel explained. "The walls reciprocate power. They're strongest against the strong. You're human… you have no power, so you can walk through, but I can't get out."
"I don't… understand…"
Castiel sighed; he would have preferred to just get this over with, but Sam was looking at him with such horror and confusion. He needed to at least try to help Sam understand why he had to do this.
"Everyone is offered redemption," he told the hunter, looking back to the blackened garden. "Even Lucifer. His sin was pride, so he must find freedom through humility. Only those willing to relinquish all power may cross the boundary. Lucifer could walk free whenever he chooses, but he'll never do it. Most angels wouldn't," he added honestly.
But most angels didn't have a promise to keep.
"Do what?" Sam demanded, increasingly more aware as his red-rimmed eyes widened. "Cas? What are you going to do?"
"My grace… it makes me too powerful." Castiel swallowed, took a breath, then finished, "I have to cut it out."
"What?! Cas, no! I won't let-"
"Too late, Sam." Castiel thrust the blade tip into his arm and sliced a wide gash, and his world exploded into pain. Liquid light, his bright and shining grace, poured from the gushing wound and Castiel shouted out in agony. His eyes fell closed as the blade dropped from his nerveless fingers; the angel sank to his knees, holding out his trembling arm.
"Cas!" Sam cried from close by. The hunter grabbed him, trying to press his hand over the wound as though he could possibly staunch the flow of the angel's essence, but there was no holding it back. Castiel could hear his own shuddering gasps of pain and he bit his lip to stop the sounds.
"Sam…" he said weakly. "We… we have to go…"
He'd started a countdown. Some of his power would linger, if he could just hold back enough grace as he would have had as the lowest of angels—just enough to still be able to fly, in order to get them home. But even that would very likely continue to diminish, so waiting for too long would mean being stranded in Hell with no way out.
Brilliantly white-blue eyes snapped open, light pouring from his gaze as Castiel's grace evacuated his body. He should have lost enough by now. Gritting his teeth, the angel picked up his sword and fought his way onto his feet. When he reached out to haul Sam up as well, the angel could already feel how much power had abandoned him, for Sam was heavy when he shouldn't have been.
"You might have to… help me…" Castiel admitted through a clenched jaw, trying to ignore the terror of just how fast he was weakening. "Sam…"
"I've got you," the hunter whispered, barely even able to stand on his own shaky legs. It was difficult to tell who was supporting whom, both angel and human stumbling towards the barrier, watching as Castiel's own light flitted up to join the power reinforcing the wall.
There was no time to hesitate. Castiel set his jaw and pushed. The strobing energy burned bright white against the pure black fog, surrounding them so that they could only hope they were moving in a straight line. Castiel couldn't help but cry out in pain again as he forced his way through, feeling Sam grab his arm and try to help pull him to the other side.
It was like walking through a mesh of barbed wire and razors. He could feel the wall snagging on what was left of his grace, tearing more pieces away from him until the warrior angel was convinced that he would be killed from the white hot pain. The wisps of light dripping from his wound danced around them, sparks flying up in brilliant white specks like stardust among the lightning flashes.
"Hold on, Cas," Sam gasped out, as the angel stumbled a bit, moaning in agony as more grace was ripped apart. Every breath was torture now; how much farther was it? He didn't know how much more he could take, didn't know if he could make it, but he had to. Sam deserved to go home, and Castiel had made Dean a promise.
They were the only family he had left, and that meant Castiel had to keep going.
"Come on," he dimly heard Sam pleading, the human digging his heels in and pulling with all his failing strength. "You- you survived Lucifer… you can do this! Come on…"
Oh Heaven, surely they were almost through, and there was still all of Hell to fly out of, past the demons who would try to stop them. Castiel wanted to give up at that gut-wrenching thought, but that simply wasn't an option.
At long last, they broke through the barrier and spilled out of the Cage, free. Castiel fell to one knee with a strained cry, Sam tumbling down with him. Castiel's shoulders trembled with both pain and energy spent as he took several gasping, labored breaths, then forced himself back to his feet. There should be just enough, he thought. Just enough power to make the flight back. But he felt so weak as he struggled to help Sam back up, even weaker than when he'd been cut off from Heaven.
The angel had a feeling that if he even made it back to Earth, he would never be flying again.
But that had always been the expected toll.
"Sam," Castiel whispered, voice like sandpaper as he turned to a more important concern. "Your mind, your soul… it's broken. I'm afraid of what that will mean when we reach the surface. I… I might be able to take your memories of Hell away, and everything Lucifer did to you."
Sam looked at him through those red-rimmed, haunted eyes, gulping in what was only too reasonable fear for what was coming. The hunter nodded, then whispered with a guilt-ridden look, "What about you? You shouldn't have done that… What's going to happen to you?"
"Nothing to worry about," Castiel assured him, gruff with the lie as he gathered his strength. "Lucifer's wrath was focused primarily on you. There's no time, Sam. We need to fly out now, while I still can. I'll carry you, but I need you to stay awake."
Again, Sam nodded, most of his weight still supported by the angel. Though Castiel's own body and soul still felt beaten and brutalized, he didn't have time to dwell on the pain right now—or what would happen to him if the scant remaining grace flickered and died, leaving him little more than a human.
"Here we go," Castiel said, stepping in front of Sam, pulling the hunter's arms around his neck so that he could carry Sam on his back. It was awkward here on the ground, the human so much taller than him, but that wouldn't matter once they were in the air. The angel wrapped his hands around his friend's forearms, taking a firm grip. "Don't let go… whatever happens, Sam, don't let go. You have to hold on, no matter what."
"I will," Sam whispered. It sounded like he was struggling to stay alert, but he'd mustered his strength and Cas felt a light squeeze of reassurance. "I- I'm ready."
Castiel didn't hesitate. The angel took off, biting back a scream of pain at the effort from his ravaged grace, racing against the ticking clock that could end with him and Sam trapped powerless in Hell forever.
Crowley honestly couldn't believe he was even doing this. Helping an angel… what was he coming to? It was the smartest play, though. Despite his bravado in Dean Winchester's face, the demon didn't fancy being on that hunter's list, not when he'd seen what the Winchesters were capable of.
Crowley was evil, but he wasn't an idiot.
He was starting to get bored, though. The bowels of Hell needed some serious fixing up; a bit of ventilation would be a good place to start. Maybe a nightlight. Crowley briefly amused himself with that idea, but decided against it. His first act as king of Hell would be to seal off this bottom-most layer, anyway.
No sense taking chances; Lucifer could never get out of that box again, or Crowley would be screwed up the arse.
"Anytime now, Kitten," the demon grumbled, rolling his eyes as he started another lazy circuit around the flashing dome of the Cage. "I'm not waiting around here forever."
For Hell's sakes, there was no guarantee that feathery numpty could even get himself and Moose back out of the Cage in the first place, and Crowley couldn't be held responsible for that. And Dean Winchester had thought he would go into the Cage?! Not even if his reward had been Hell on a silver platter!
In fact, he was still shocked that Castiel had done so. Wasn't that just sickeningly sweet with a side of vomit? Crowley snorted. The angel was going to be lucky to get himself back to the surface, let alone Sam. In fact, this entire affair was suicidal.
"Right, I'm off," Crowley decided out loud, shaking his head. "There's no way they're ever gonna escape Luc-"
The demon nearly jumped out of his skin as the domed wall of the Cage right beside him began to pulsate with increased vigor, a low groaning of power flooding the infinite wastelands of the Pit. Crowley gaped in disbelief, taking several steps back. They'd made it?!
Prudently, the demon shifted into invisibility, not about to let himself be seen. No need to worry about the angel sensing a demon. This was Hell; there were billions of demons, the perfect camouflage for something evil to hide in.
There was a cry of pain, and then who should tumble out of the Cage but Moose and Kitten. Silently, Crowley shook his head. Wonders never ceased. Of course, the angel looked like he'd walked through a minefield, and the Winchester like he'd become completely addled.
"Your mind, your soul… it's broken," Feathers was saying to Moose, which made sense to Crowley. Being Lucifer's plaything did have a tendency to do that to people. He watched, rolling his eyes a bit at the disgustingly touching little reunion, trying not to tap his foot in impatience.
"You have to hold on, no matter what," the angel was warning now, which was pretty sound advice. Then, he took off, invisible wings beating down hard enough that Crowley could feel the wind he created.
Right, he thought. Time to clear the way. A deal was a deal, and Crowley was a demon of his word.
He shifted quickly into the void, coming out onto an overhang ahead of the angel to make sure there were no demons in the immediate area. The lowest layers would be simple; after that, this was going to get a tad tricky.
The problem was, Hell was set up like a labyrinth, and there was no easy way out. The multiple levels weren't connected by one enormous tunnel leading straight up, but rather by various portals scattered throughout the entire realm. Crowley hoped Castiel had been paying attention when he'd flown in, remembering where in each circle of Hell the way up to the next one was.
Without the benefit of wings to keep him in sustained flight, Crowley continued to vanish and reappear along Castiel's route, keeping hidden as he popped in and out among the rocky outcroppings in the darkness. The lowest level was the easiest: it was straight up, nothing else down here in the basement to offer distraction. Crowley couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in grudging respect for the angel's speed, especially given how much pain he had to be in.
How heroic.
"Hold on, Sam!" Castiel was saying to Sam, just within earshot, blissfully unaware of their demon bodyguard.
"Hold on, Sam," Crowley agreed under his breath. "Otherwise, I have your brother to worry about."
It didn't take much longer before they broke free of the darkest lower circle, leveling off over the belching lava fields of the lower inhabited areas. The demon heard an unrestrained shout of agony, and he paused in his rapid transportation to see what had Kitten's feathers in such a twist. Crowley winced with relief that he didn't have wings. Though he couldn't see Castiel's per se, what he did see would have been horrifying if the demon gave a damn about him.
They were turning to ash. Even as Crowley watched, the air within seven feet of the angel on either side was smoldering. Castiel's wings were literally burning away from the Hellfire. But what else could be expected, with how much power the angel must have had to sacrifice? Obviously, he didn't have enough left to protect his wings from the evil heat down here. Crowley shook his head and returned his attention to the way ahead.
"Cas!?" Sam could be heard gasping, apparently noticing the little situation. "What-?"
"It's nothing," Kitten was quick to reply, making Crowley snort as he watched, invisible, from the fiery fen.
"Your wings-"
"It's nothing, Sam. Help me find the way up to the next level."
"You're about to fly right past it," Crowley grumbled under his breath with a sigh. "Must I do everything myself?"
He didn't dare allow the angel to see him but he could take on the thick, smoky form that demons were confined to while on Earth, rendering him unrecognizable. He didn't enjoy it—there was no quicker way to ruin an authentic Armani suit—so Dean Winchester had better appreciate the sacrifices that Crowley was making for him.
"Cas, look out!" Sam shouted as Crowley barreled towards them. He could hear Kitten saying some very non-angelic words, but his goal was accomplished: Castiel had to veer upwards to avoid his sparking storm cloud of smoke, successfully herded towards the break in the clouds of gas that would bear them up to the dungeon levels.
Finally. Crowley shifted back, looking down at his ash covered suit with a sigh. This was never going to come out.
"Hold on, Sam," Castiel said again as they flew through the gap in the layers into the grim prison realm, the demon keeping them in his sights as he transported from one end of the long brick hallway to the next, always on the lookout for other demons who might pose a problem. In the flickering light of the flames in their wall sconces, he caught glimpses of the shadowy outlines of massive wings, already looking distinctly damaged. As long as the angel didn't stop or slow down, he should make it, Crowley decided.
They'd been lucky so far, but this was where demons spent most of their time; they were bound to notice the angel rocketing through Hell soon.
And sure enough: "Hey! Hey! An angel!"
"Bollocks," Crowley complained, an irate scowl crossing his face. Of course it couldn't have been just an easy little excursion.
"Angel!"
"An angel- and a human!"
"-Winchester-"
"WINCHESTER! Stop them! Someone grab that angel!"
"It's Castiel, stop him, don't let him get away!"
The halls of the dungeon were too confining for this. Demons were pouring out of the woodwork, the darkened stone and brick walls crawling with the shadows of Hell's inhabitants. Crowley held still for a moment, sneaking a peek back, noting the ferocious look on Kitten's face. Somehow it was almost more frightening with the angel's shoulders wreathed in smoke and ash from his own burning wings.
Not that Crowley was frightened, mind.
Silently, unwilling to risk his invisible voice being heard and recognized, Crowley held up a hand, using his power to punch a hole through the crowd of demons that had gathered ahead. They were flung aside, scattered like bowling pins in confused alarm as the angel was able to shoot right through undeterred.
"How'd he do that?!"
"Grab him!"
Crowley chuckled to himself in amusement at his game, continuing to pave the way. Squirrel should be glad he'd made the deal; there was no way Castiel could have taken on all of these demons, by himself, in this condition, and hold on to Moose. There was still a ways to go, though, and every demon in Hell must have been made aware of the situation by now.
"Cas! Give me your blade!" Sam was shouting over the din of the demons. "I'll fight them, you just fly! Come on, buddy, come on!"
Crowley halted again, the way ahead clear for the moment, turning to watch. Kitten had pulled his blade out, glinting red and gold in the light of Hell, and now in the hands of a Winchester. Well, Crowley wasn't getting within three feet, now. Moose was wielding the blade while clinging to Castiel with one hand, stabbing at the demons who tried to catch up with them, and leaving a trail of death shrieks in his wake. Even at the edge of his sanity, the Winchester was not someone to be taken lightly.
With Crowley clearing away the demons who tried to cut them off, and Sam now watching their backs, they made quick time through several more layers of Hell. Kitten seemed to have a good idea of where he was going after all. Soon, they had finally broken free into the nebulous cloud of Hell's uppermost layer.
Crowley heard Castiel's tortured breaths behind him, as the demon continued to shift through the fog. He had the impression that if Kitten was openly showing how much pain he was in, it must have reached completely unbearable levels. They were almost there, though, if the angel could just hold out a bit longer, but there was a shout from behind him.
"No! Sam! Sam! Don't let go! Hold on, no matter what!"
Crowley spun back with a frown. Though he'd been keeping the way ahead free, some demon must have been fast enough to teleport directly at the racing angel and grab hold. The demon was clutching Sam's arm, trying to yank him away, keeping him from using the blade. With the added weight, Kitten was losing momentum, and now other demons were starting to appear on top of them.
They attacked without mercy, gouging at the hunter's arms, chest and face, drawing blood as he cried out in pain. Several more had latched on to Castiel, dark claws slashing into his skin with evil fury and nearly demented vigor. Weighed down by the mass of demons, Castiel's flight slowed down to a dead stop as invisible wings beat frantically in an attempt to fly. Burning feathers rained down on the shouting demons, still smoldering, and then the angel began to sink.
"Bollocks," Crowley grumbled again, phasing out so he could emerge invisibly on top of the drowning angel, an unseen force that would seem just another demonic presence in the confusion.
It was pandemonium. With Castiel flapping as hard as he could, Crowley ripping demons away from the angel and throwing them into the mist, and Sam finally able to wield the blade, the air was filled with shrieks and curses, feathers and smoke and blood. Soon, there was only one demon left in the melee, clinging to the angel's arms in an effort to pull him back in.
"Sam, I… I can't-" Castiel gasped out, once mighty wings buffeting the air, unseen. "I'm not going to… make it…"
You'd bloody well BETTER make it, or I'm dead, Crowley thought in vexation, but he'd leave the motivational speaking for Moose.
The hunter stabbed downwards, sending the demon shrieking into oblivion. "Yes, you are!" Sam urged the angel as Crowley shifted to a nearby ledge, ignoring whatever pitiful, screaming soul was chained up on it. He watched with narrowed eyes as the angel continued to flounder, on the final vertical ascent but no longer gaining any altitude.
"Don't make me get over there and push," Crowley muttered under his breath. Even from that distance, he could see the doubt on Castiel's face.
"Cas… I know you can do this," Moose went on, launching into his typical tender, heartwarming I-believe-in-you speech, though he sounded almost further gone than the angel. "Fight, Cas. Always... keep fighting. You didn't… come all this way… just to- to… fall. I-"
He broke off, a shudder and cry bursting free. Crowley frowned, watching as the blade slipped from the hunter's grip, Castiel only barely managing to catch his weapon. They were losing him. The trauma had splintered his mind, and while the young Winchester had fought valiantly to keep it together, it seemed that his time was running out. If Moose survived, Crowley mused, he'd likely end up a blithering idiot.
"Sam? Sam! Sam, hold on!"
The angel's eyes lit with fire, burning blue in the haze of Hell. More demons were starting to appear on the ledges in the thick nebula, ravenous eyes zeroed in on their prey with single-minded hate. But Kitten seemed to have rallied his strength, the thought of losing Sam clearly a more driving force than the threat of demons.
The angel surged upward, blood dripping down his face from the attack he'd already sustained. He was so close, almost there; Crowley could almost taste the victory of a done deal.
A black eyed demon leaped off a ledge towards Castiel, but Crowley got there first. Smashing the howling demon back down into the brume, Crowley spun around in midair beneath the angel, gathered his power, and pushed.
All three of them spilled out onto the Earth, right back in the middle of Bobby Singer's living room.
Squirrel and Bobby were on their feet in an instant as they saw Castiel and Moose sprawled in a bloody heap on the floor. The air surrounding the angel, where his wings would be if they were physically attached to his vessel's body, was still smoldering as ash floated down to the carpet, as though Castiel were a relic of Pompeii.
Dean and Bobby stood dumbfounded, taken unawares by the sudden entrance. With Castiel distracted by the obvious agony that landing had caused, Crowley flicked into visibility where he stood, only for one moment.
One moment, just long enough to catch the stunned Dean Winchester's eye and give him a sharp nod. Crowley's mission was accomplished. He'd held up his end of the bargain. Dean only blinked, probably trying to get his tiny mind to process what was going on.
Not wanting to be witness to what would probably be a stomach-churning, heart-wrenching, nauseating little reunion, the demon turned and disappeared.
But not before he heard Sam Winchester start to scream.
Chapter 6: To Know That You are Safe and Free
Chapter Text
Dean could only stare, transfixed in horror, as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. That- that couldn't be Sam, not his Sammy, lying on the floor, covered in blood, screaming like Dean had never heard anyone scream before.
No… that wasn't true. He'd heard this before. In Hell. Those were Hell screams, the sound of someone whose mind and soul had been shattered.
"Sam!" Galvanized into action, Dean dove forward, grabbing Sam up and trying to support him as his brother thrashed and contorted like he was having convulsions. From the corner of his eye, he could see Bobby rushing to Cas's side, and the hunter realized that the angel was in equally terrible shape.
"NO!" Sam shouted, bucking away with wild eyes goggling ahead, not even seeming to see Dean. "Lucifer! LUCIFER, NO!" He broke off with a long howl of agony that made Dean's hair stand on end. Did Sam think he was still back in the Cage? Beside him, Bobby seemed to be having just as much trouble with the angel.
"Cas, you need to hold still, idjit, let me stop the bleeding-"
"No… get me to Sam… I need to…"
Dean's eyes flicked frantically back and forth between Sam and Cas, no idea what was happening or what to do. The helpless fear was an emotion he never wanted to feel, so powerless to help his brother or his friend that it felt like his own soul was dying.
"What's happening to him?!" he demanded, terror making his voice clipped and high. "Sammy!"
"His memories… he's trapped in the Cage," Cas whispered, barely audible over Sam's cries. The angel gasped out in sharp pain as he pulled himself along the floor towards Sam, ignoring Bobby's admonitions to not move. "The memories… they're killing him…"
Killing him. Dean felt himself go numb, his mind turning to ice. After everything, Sammy was dying anyway?
"Sam, you're safe!" he tried in desperation. "You're back, you're here with me! It's Dean! Sammy, oh god, please, snap out of it!"
"CAS!" Sam cried out, hands flying to his hair as though he would yank it all out by the roots. "Cas, please! Take them! Take them, I don't want- aagh, Lucifer, don't! I don't want to- to remember! Cas!"
"He- he won't snap out of it," Cas told Dean brokenly, a trembling hand reaching for Sam, glowing blood spattering the carpet as he did. "I… I have to do this. There should be… just enough left."
"Enough of what left!?" Dean demanded, trading a panicked look with Bobby, who'd given up trying to stop Cas and was holding out his hands as though hopelessly waiting to be able to help, to catch Cas if the angel started to collapse.
The angel didn't answer, and Sam was still screaming, that unearthly, unholy screaming that made Dean feel like he was in pain.
"Cas!" Sam shouted again as he nearly writhed right out of Dean's firm grip. "Please!"
"Cas, what do I need to do?" Bobby asked in an obviously forced calm voice, squatting down beside the angel, trying to help him up a bit. "What… what can I…?"
There was no response, Cas seeming to be too winded, but by now he'd made it over to Sam. The angel groaned a bit as his hand finally fell on Sam's forehead, and there was a brilliant glow from beneath his palm. In Dean's arms, Sammy stopped his wild contorting, the screams also blessedly ceasing, as he slumped down almost instantaneously.
"What- what just happened?" Dean asked, as Cas's hand dropped. The clearly exhausted angel met his gaze, then whispered,
"Sam… will sleep… took memories… Don't tell… what happened. I- I'm sorry, Dean."
And then, before Dean's eyes, the angel fell back with a soft cry, and the hunter would have sworn he saw something rising like smoke from the air around Cas. Bobby managed to catch the angel just in time to keep his head from hitting the floor, cradling Cas carefully as Dean shouted,
"Cas! Cas, stay with us! Don't-"
"Dean," Bobby murmured, staring transfixed. The hunter followed his gaze. Dean caught his breath, mouth open and eyes huge with horror as he watched a feather drift down, a feather that belonged to nothing on Earth. It was white, or had been once; it smoldered gently, the tips blackened as charcoal.
As though it'd been on fire, Dean couldn't help but think… hellfire.
Swallowing hard, fighting back an odd burn in his eyes, Dean reached out and caught the slowly falling feather before it could hit the ground. It lay in his hand, continuing to smoke faintly. It seemed almost alive, glowing with a weakly pulsing beat, before the glow faded and died as he stared at it and then at Cas.
"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered, voice breaking. He looked up to meet Bobby's eyes, seeing that even the grizzled old hunter appeared shaken.
Cas… he thought with a heavy heart. What happened to you…
In the end, it took both Dean and Bobby combined to lug Sam and Cas up the stairs, heaving their dead weight up between the two of them. Dean felt sick as he pulled Sam's tattered shirt back, seeing the deep gashes in his chest that he could only assume had been either Lucifer or a demon trying to stop them. It took Dean the better part of an hour to wash off all the wounds, stitch him up and bandage him, and get Sam into clean clothes, then haul him to Bobby's bed.
Sam woke only once during the entire process, long enough to look up at Dean in confusion and mumble, "Dean? What're you doing?" before promptly falling back asleep.
Hell, Dean wouldn't complain. That was better than the wild thrashing and the screaming.
Meanwhile, Bobby had been cleaning Cas up as best as he could, though Dean was relieved to hear that if nothing else, the angel's body still seemed to be healing itself—albeit far too slowly. The slashes and cuts on him were disappearing a bit at time, but he should have instantly snapped back to full health… but Dean couldn't forget that feather.
Combined with Crowley's ominous warning that leaving the Cage would cost a hefty price, and the fact that the angel refused to so much as stir, and the way Cas had looked so damn weak as he crawled across the floor…
"How's he doing?" Dean asked Bobby gruffly, hesitating in the doorway to the guestroom where the older hunter was watching over Cas. Bobby glanced up at him, not moving from where he sat in the nearby chair, arms crossed.
"Same as the last time you asked ten minutes ago," he answered, not testy so much as sympathetic. "Still out." Bobby hesitated, then started, "Dean-"
"Bobby, don't," Dean snapped with much more ferocity than necessary. "Cas is gonna be fine. Got it!?"
It looked like Bobby wanted to say more, but the look on Dean's face must have changed his mind, because the old hunter only shrugged and looked away, unconvinced. Dean shook his head, swearing with vitriolic ire.
"And Sam just keeps sleeping, too," he added, unable to keep the concern from bleeding into his voice.
Bobby sighed. "Yeah, I know. But Dean, how much rest did you get in Hell? Let him sleep. We just gotta hope that whatever Cas did, it holds."
Yeah… Dean wouldn't be able to take hearing his baby brother scream like that again. "Cas said he… took memories…" Dean said. "How far back do you think…?" If the angel had erased Sam's memories, what would Sam remember? And what had Cas meant by "don't tell him what happened"? Don't tell Sam about Hell? Dean couldn't have even if he'd wanted to, since he didn't know what had gone down. Don't tell about falling into the Cage in the first place? Don't tell how they'd gotten out? Don't tell him about that damn feather, or the fact that Cas was lying here in a friggin' coma—something Dean had never wanted to happen?
Bobby shrugged again, looking up after Dean fell silent. He seemed to notice the younger hunter's unhappiness as he looked between Cas and then over his shoulder towards the other bedroom where Sam was, torn. After a moment, Bobby grumbled,
"I've had enough of just sitting here. I'll go heat up some soup, you watch Cas for a while."
Again, Dean glanced over his shoulder. He wanted to sit with Cas, wanted to reassure himself that his best friend was at least still breathing, still fighting. But, damn it, it felt so wrong, so backwards; Cas was an angel, he'd always been the one to do the watching over.
And then there was Sam, his brother, also out like a light, and Dean was desperate to stay and keep watch over him, as well. He had to be there when Sam woke up.
"Sam's going to sleep through the night," Bobby pointed out practically, reading Dean as easily as he always did. "We've got a few hours at least before we gotta worry about him waking up. Sit down, idjit, if you fall asleep in here, I'll go stay with Sam and call for you the second he starts rousin'. Ok?"
Dean was torn, checking over his shoulder yet again as though he'd be able to see Sam waking up at that very minute. Bobby needed a room with two beds, that was all there was to it. The hunter didn't like not being able to sit with both of them at the same time, but Bobby was probably right… Sam was going to sleep until morning at least, as exhausted as he must have been, and Cas…
Dean tried not to notice that the angel looked as though he might stop breathing at any minute.
"Okay," he muttered, too tired to argue about it anyway. Bobby nodded, giving him a sympathetic clap on the shoulder as he passed.
Dean took the vacated seat, dropping his head to his hands for a few moments, before he finally looked over at Cas again, still and corpse-like on the bed. The hunter swallowed, eyes flicking towards the door to make sure Bobby wasn't there before muttering,
"Hey, uh… Cas. So, um… I don't know how this works, with you being all… you know…" He trailed off with an awkward cough, then tried again, "I don't know if you can still hear prayers, or… or maybe you just hear me talking? 'Cause… you know, coma patients, and all that. But, um… look, however you're hearing this, I just hope you are, because… because…"
Dean was glad no one was around to hear his voice break, and he looked up at the ceiling. "Damn it, Cas," he whispered, shaking his head. "Just promise me you'll be okay. I- I need you to wake up, buddy. I just got you and Sammy back, don't screw that up by d-"
He couldn't get the word out, couldn't say "dying" where Cas was concerned. Dean's voice was rough and uneven as he cleared his throat and grumbled, "Just wake your lazy ass up, Cas. You can't be loafing around like this, we've probably got all kinds of work to do, cleaning up from this whole Apocalypse thing, so… so just… damn it, just wake up, please… Can you even hear me, Cas?"
The last question was said with no small amount of hopelessness. Dean closed his eyes, tilting his forehead into his hand again, shoulders slumped wearily. It was going to be a long night.
And there was no guarantee of what daybreak would bring.
The first thing that Sam was aware of was that his head felt like someone was sawing it in two. No, not just his head… his entire body ached, alternating between various sharp pains and bone-deep throbs. Somehow, though, it just didn't feel like the agony he'd been expecting from the Cage. He'd had worse than this after some of their most horrific hunts; was this really the best Lucifer could do?
The second thing he was aware of was a sharp inhalation of breath, a frantic scrabbling movement from somewhere nearby, and then—of all things—his brother's voice. "Bobby!" Dean was calling, which didn't make much sense. "Bobby, get in here! I think he's waking up! Sam… Sammy? Can you hear me? Hey… open your eyes, come on, man. Come on…"
There was a definite pleading in his voice, Sam could detect that even through the confused haze he was in. Still, he resisted. Making him think that Dean was there, that was a trick that Lucifer would use, but Dean couldn't possibly be in the Cage, and Sam didn't want to wake up all the way and lose even this much of his brother.
"Sam?"
Now it was Bobby's turn to speak, heavy footsteps on hardwood, and that was so realistic, it was scary. Sam's brow tightened a bit in a frown, not as sure anymore. And come to think of it, he didn't detect Lucifer's presence in his mind, so at the very least he wasn't possessed. Probably.
"He's moving a little," Dean was saying from somewhere above him. "Sam! Come on, I'm gonna keep bugging you until you wake up. I really need you here…"
Sam winced, trying to force weighted lids open to see what he immediately recognized as Bobby's house, which was… weird. He seemed to be in a bed, Dean sitting next to him and leaning in with a look that was half anxiety and half hope. Bobby was standing close by, and both exhaled in sharp relief as Sam pushed his weary body upright.
"Oh, god," Dean whispered, grabbing his brother and hauling him in. Sam automatically returned the hug, surprised at how real it felt. Everything was right, down to the scent, down to the way that Dean never breathed when he held Sam like this, as though even that might shatter the brotherly moment.
Even if it wasn't Dean, it felt enough like him that Sam couldn't help but squeeze tighter, desperate, terrified of letting go of whatever hope this offered.
"Sam, don't you ever do this again!" Dean growled into his neck, pulling away with moisture burning in his green eyes. Hands came up to cup Sam's head, his face, his chin, checking all over for signs of injury the way Dean always did, the exact same pattern of movements.
It was actually Dean, it had to be him; no artificial copy could have gotten his mannerisms down so flawlessly. But that meant… Wait… this wasn't the Cage. It was…
Sam's face fell and he looked over at Bobby again, seeing that even the hard and grizzled hunter looked decidedly tearful. Sam's eyes dropped to his lap and he sighed. "Sorry, guys," he murmured. "Dean, I- was it because of me? Well, Lucifer? I tried to make him stop hitting you, but… Is that how you died? Or was it later?"
"Huh?" Dean looked legitimately confused, so Sam gestured around the room, his ribs objecting to the sudden movement.
"Heaven. If you're here, you must be dead, too. Was it the angels? Did they pull me out of the Cage? Do they- do they want us for something?"
"Whoa, whoa," Dean cut him off, sitting back and gripping Sam's arms, while Bobby moved closer with a frown. "Sam, we're not dead. Why would you think…?"
"Because we're all together again," Sam replied simply. "This is my Heaven. But right before I jumped, you were still alive-"
Dean's hands squeezed him harder, tears threatening to spill over now as he said in a shaky voice, "No, Sam… we are all together. But this is Earth. You're home. We're all alive, we made it. You made it."
But how did that make sense? Sam stared at Dean with a frown, then looked uncertainly at Bobby again. "No..." he said. "I- I saw Bobby die. I killed- Lucifer killed him. Bobby was dead."
"Oh, well… I mean, yeah, but…" Dean replied. Behind him, Bobby only raised his eyebrows and shrugged one shoulder.
"What? I got better."
Sam blinked, nose wrinkling in confusion as he eyed the two.
Dean looked like he was trying to bite back a smile, as he nodded. "Yeah, okay, it's not like we've never come back from the dead before," Dean pointed out. "Look, you see all these bandages you got? You're probably pretty sore right now, right? In your Heaven, are you usually recovering from demon attacks?"
"Well… no," Sam admitted, starting to feel a twinge of hope. Could it be possible? Was he really back home? His stomach was rumbling in protest, too, and he shouldn't have been so hungry if he was dead. The young hunter's heartbeat quickened, as he turned by almost base instinct back to Dean. "I… I'm really home?"
Dean was smiling now, albeit a little watery, but his grip was as strong and fierce as ever as he whispered, "Yeah. You're really home."
For a moment, Sam could only stare at his brother, then at Bobby, as every tightly coiled fear and every horrific doubt finally came free. Home… where Dean was. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sam raised his arms, ignoring the pain it caused, and leaned forward to clasp his brother in an almost desperately fierce embrace. His eyes squeezed closed, tears leaking out the sides.
Home.
"Hey, I got you, brother," Dean murmured, raspy gentleness in his voice. There were heavy footsteps, Bobby's deliberate treads stepping over to join them, and Sam felt a warm, solid hand on his back. He was surrounded by their comfort and safety, and the whole nightmare of the Apocalypse was truly over.
And yet, something still felt like it was missing, something beyond just the answers to so many obvious questions. After a moment, Sam leaned back again, wiping at his eyes as he frowned. "Cas," he said, almost missing how Dean froze at the name.
"What- what about him?" his brother asked, sounding wary.
"I don't know," Sam admitted, "I mean, I know I- no, Lucifer killed him…" He paused, heart breaking at the knowledge of what his own hands had done, even if it hadn't been his intent or will that had murdered his best friend. "But I just have this weird feeling… Dean, is there any way Cas might have… 'gotten better', too?"
Dean and Bobby traded a quick look, and now there was definite wariness in Dean's voice as he asked, "Why, do you… do you remember something?"
"No." And that was the truly frustrating part. "I can't explain it, Dean, I just have this feeling that I need to be really worried about Cas. Like… like I'm scared for him, but I don't know why. Look, I know this sounds crazy, but I think… I think he might be alive. I think we need to find him."
He moved to get up, more and more certain with every word he spoke. He had so many feelings, but no memories to go with them. Sam knew, just knew, that something had happened to Cas, but he'd seen their angel die… So why was he so certain that they needed to get him back, immediately?
"Whoa, Sam! Sam, slow down," Dean ordered, pressing Sam back down. He chewed his lip for a second, before adding, "We know. After Lucifer killed Cas, he got sent back or something. He's the one who fixed Bobby up."
"Cas is right over there in the next room," Bobby added, but neither he nor Dean looked happy, and Sam felt cold.
"And?"
Another exchange of looks; Sam was getting more and more nervous. Dean seemed to be hesitating, so Bobby took over the story. "We can't wake him up. He's in some kind of coma or something."
Something icy trailed down Sam's spine as Bobby's news resonated through his mind. Cas… he was alive… brought back, but now in a coma? And he, Sam, was mysteriously not in the Cage with Lucifer. But he was covered in wounds, and Dean had said it was a demon attack… The pieces were fitting together, and even though Sam just couldn't manage to get a full picture, he could still fill in some blanks.
"Cas," he murmured, feeling the blood drain from his face. "He pulled me out of the Cage, didn't he... Why can't I remember… Dean, what happened?"
"Sam, you need to stop trying to figure it out," Dean urged. "When you got back, man… Cas said your memories of that place were killing you, so he- he erased them or something. I don't know what the hell happened, but I can tell you right now, you don't want to know. I heard you, Sam. Promise me you won't try to remember."
Sam fell silent, troubled. No… he didn't want to remember what Lucifer might have done to him in retribution for the failed Apocalypse. Cas wouldn't have taken those memories away unless there was a damn good reason. But now his angel friend was the one in trouble.
And while Sam knew that Cas had always preferred Dean, he felt an inexplicable closeness to the angel now that he couldn't shake. Stubbornly, he pushed back the blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing for Dean when the motion made the room spin a violent tarantella.
"Sam, you need to rest, damn it!" Dean tried to protest, but the younger hunter shook his head.
"I need to see him," he said. "Dean… please."
"Can't it wait?"
"Could you, if it were you?" Bobby cut in dryly, making Sam smirk as Dean shot the older man a look. Bobby shrugged, expression almost daring Dean to lie that he would have been able to rest first. They all knew better, and finally Dean just sighed, rolling his eyes.
"Fine. Just… take it slow. Come on."
Not that he had much choice. "Slow" was the only speed he had at the moment. Slinging an arm around Dean and Bobby's shoulders, Sam didn't complain as they had to help him get to his disturbingly weak and shaky legs. He hobbled along, limping from the rather awkward height difference between him and his two supports, making their way one step at a time towards the guest room.
Sam swallowed, bracing himself, but when Cas came into view, he still found himself robbed of breath, horror compressing his lungs like an iron weight.
The image was so wrong. Cas was ghostly white, dozens of mostly healed slashes speckling his skin. But this was Cas, he was an angel for crying out loud, he shouldn't look so injured and pale. He was supposed to be invincible, even though they'd already learned how horrifically untrue that was. Even still… seeing Cas like this…
Sam released his breath in a shaky outburst as he tried to move quicker to the side of the bed. "Cas?" he murmured, letting Dean and Bobby ease him into the chair that they'd been using in their own vigils over the angel. "Why did I wake up but he hasn't yet?"
"I don't know, Sammy," Dean admitted. "He, uh…" The hunter cleared his throat, sounding more than a little torn up. "He just hasn't. Hasn't even twitched. I've been… you know, talking to him and everything, but…"
Sam nodded, then leaned over closer to the angel, grabbing one of his friend's still hands. It wasn't right, how cold the warrior felt. "Cas," he started, hoping that Cas could hear them. "I, um… I don't really remember what happened… which is probably a good thing, but… but I know I have you to thank. Just don't give up now, okay? Whatever happens, Cas, you- you can't let go. You have to hold on, no matter what."
The hunter couldn't even say why it felt so important to him that the angel hear those words, what the significance of it was, but maybe Cas would understand. But their friend didn't stir, and Sam closed his eyes.
Please, he prayed with all his might. Cas… Cas, you need to come home.
Chapter 7: Because You're Worth it All to Me
Notes:
Thank you so much everybody!!! Here at last is the conclusion ^_^
Chapter Text
It was the most curious thing. Castiel had walked through several dreams yet never experienced one of his own before, having never really slept, and yet he somehow knew as though by instinct that this was nothing but a dream. There wasn't a great deal involved; he thought he was standing on the brink of an enormous precipice. The angel could choose to step off, to fall into nothingness, or he could turn around and walk away from that dizzying edge.
"Jump in," a sinister voice invited, smooth and cunning, like sweetened quicksilver. "After all, you have wings, don't you?" The voice laughed, mirthful and mocking, as it finished, "No, that's right… you don't. Not anymore. You might as well jump, you have nowhere else to go now."
It was true about his wings, of course. Castiel couldn't bear to look at them to assess the damage; he could tell from the feel of them that Hell's fires had burned them away beyond all hope of repair, disfigured, mangled, and useless. His days of flying were over, and as much as that thought destroyed him, it didn't hurt nearly as much as the thought of failing to retrieve Sam.
"So noble," Lucifer whispered, for of course it was Lucifer's voice. "But you don't belong there, and you know it. Monster… Dean would hunt you if he knew the truth."
Castiel was too tired to deal with this. He wished his brother would go away and leave him alone to dream, and he gazed down into the inky black abyss. It was just a dream, after all. Perhaps if he jumped in, it would at least shut Lucifer up, perhaps the dream would end.
"Hey, um… Cas, it's me again," another voice said. The angel paused to listen, cocking his head to the side. Sam… it was Sam. "Look, man, you're really starting to get us worried. You just gotta hold on. No matter what, you can't let go. Please… I know you can do this, Cas."
Sam's voice was coming from somewhere behind him, away from that pit of blackness. But Castiel was far too tired to look for the hunter. For now, he would just stay there, not moving, trying to gather his strength.
"So much blood is on your hands," Lucifer reminded him, serpentine and turpentine. "So much pain you've caused… Jump in. Atone for your sins."
"Listen, as long as these two idjits are asleep," Bobby's voice entered the mix, from somewhere in the distance behind him, with Sam's. "I know you and I ain't as close, but… I kinda miss you being around. I mean, you're okay in my book. You know, for an angel. I ain't really the praying type, but if I only got one prayer, it'd be for you to find your way back to us. So, uh… don't let me down, Feathers."
Castiel was glad that Bobby was distracting him from Lucifer, and the reminder of the intense, debilitating pain of all his violence towards humanity. Though he couldn't hear their screams anymore, the memory was enough to leave him cold and shaken.
Finally, Dean's voice, speaking into what Castiel was certain was nothing more than a dream.
"Cas, I can't take much more of this. It's been a week, you need to wake up! You-" The words broke off; Dean only got emotional when he was deeply upset, and Castiel hated to hear that distress in the hunter. After all, he still considered himself their guardian. He was supposed to help relieve their suffering, not add to it.
There was a pause, then Dean again. "I'm literally begging you, here. Wake up, Cas, PLEASE. I need you. Me and Sammy need you. You can't just DIE like this!"
Castiel frowned, turning away from the precipice he was perched on. Die? Who'd said anything about dying? He was asleep, that was all. But… perhaps it was time. As inviting as that black nothingness was, Castiel didn't trust it, not like he trusted Dean and Sam.
"They won't want you, brother."
"Then why are they calling for me?" Castiel demanded out loud, his expression hardening, defiance sparking in his weary eyes.
"It won't last. Your grace is fading. Soon you'll be little more than a HUMAN."
Oh, how that word was flooded with disdain, yet Castiel only shook his head. "I can think of a worse fate."
"Cas, you need to come home."
"Any time you want to wake up would be great, Feathers."
"Come on, you son of a bitch, I'm not moving until you get back here."
Castiel sighed, looking up at the endless sky. If he was so tired while already asleep, he dreaded the thought of how exhausted he would be in the waking world, if he could find his way back. But the voices of the three hunters were so insistent, and though the angel felt a fearful reluctance to face the loss of the only life he'd ever known, he couldn't keep holding on to this neutral in-between world forever.
It was time to go.
"They'll never accept you, Castiel! There's nowhere left for you!"
Castiel paused, half glancing over his shoulder towards that dark abyss. "You know," the angel remarked coolly, "if Dean were here, he would tell you to go to hell. But you're already there. I'm glad you at least are exactly where you belong."
If Lucifer had more to say, Castiel was no longer listening. Taking a breath, the angel squared his shoulders and faced front. For better or worse, his new life—and Dean and Sam—were waiting.
"Guys? Guys! Look!"
"Cas? Come on, Cas… come on, buddy, come on!"
"Give him some space, you idjits. Cas? Can you hear us?"
The angel managed to pry his eyes open, though it was a Herculean effort. In spite of Bobby Singer's voice urging them to give him room, three faces were swimming in and out of his vision, hopeful and elated as the image sharpened into focus. Bobby seemed to be murmuring encouragements and urgings under his breath; Sam's eyes were lit like the sun, shining with delight at the movement from the angel; Dean looked desperate with hope, and Castiel knew automatically that the hand gripping his arm belonged to Dean.
"Cas!" the younger Winchester gasped now, reaching out to squeeze his other arm. "You're back!"
"God, we've been so worried," Dean said, slumping down with the weight of such fear now relieved. "It's been a week, I didn't know when you'd…" He trailed off, but Castiel stared at him with a touch of surprise.
A week. That's what Dean had said in his dream, too. Perhaps, then, it had been more real than he'd first guessed; perhaps the dream had only been the thin veil to cover reality. He was glad now that he hadn't stepped off the edge of that abyss. If it was indeed Lucifer who'd been speaking to him, then the odds were fair that Castiel would be beyond reach now, had he made the leap. Not wanting to dwell on that, the angel looked to Bobby, who shook his head as the two boys helped Castiel sit up in the bed
"Damn, it's good to see you awake," the older man said, surprising Castiel with such relief. "Though, you look like you've gone a few rounds with a cement truck."
Castiel cocked his head to the side, perplexed. "That… that's a bad thing?" he assumed, voice raspy from lack of use, not sure why the question brought such huge smiles to their faces.
"Well, it's not a good thing," Bobby drawled. "How ya feel?"
The angel considered the question, giving them the honest answer. "Like I've been tortured."
The remark seemed to cast a shadow over the group, and Castiel shifted. Of course… this was probably where he was supposed to lie, as Dean and Sam always did when asked this question. "But, um…" he hurried to add, "it's not that bad."
They didn't look convinced; Castiel wasn't experienced at lying, after all. He rolled his shoulders self-consciously, then winced as he felt the aching in his wings as though they were physical appendages of his vessel. Already it hurt less than when he'd first arrived back here with Sam, and the angel supposed he should be glad that the body of his outer shell was still able to more or less heal, even if his true form—his wings—couldn't.
"You really had us nervous, Cas," Sam told him now, drawing the warrior's attention back to him.
Castiel relaxed back down against the headboard of the bed he was in, staring at Sam. The young hunter, looked around, then grinned and asked, "What?"
"You're alright," Castiel murmured. "You're… you're really okay. I was afraid…" There'd been so little grace left by the time they'd made it back, he'd been concerned that he wouldn't be able to fully remove the memories of the Cage. Sam nodded, giving his arm another squeeze.
"Yeah. Thanks to you. Dean caught me up, so I know what you did for me."
He did? Castiel straightened up slightly in alarm; Dean was supposed to have kept that a secret. As though reading his mind, Dean blurted out,
"Yeah, I told him you'd pulled him out and made him forget the Cage."
Oh. That was it? The angel relaxed, giving Dean a small nod. Good.
"Of course." Castiel inhaled deeply, relishing the sensation of still being alive. Though, now that he was awake, he would of course have to start worrying about his next move. He couldn't admit what an incredible relief it was that the three were even there at all, that they'd kept him at Bobby's house. It was touching, and surprising, that they'd been gathered around him the way they did when it was a friend who'd been injured.
But now, he was certain that they would want to carry on with their hunting, and it would be best for Sam to get out there with his brother. As for the angel…
"I appreciate your allowing me the use of your home," he said to Bobby now, who gave him a look ringing with confusion.
"Of course. Ya didn't think we'd hang you out to dry, did you?"
"Hell wasn't particularly damp," Castiel replied, not sure why he would have needed drying out in the first place. Bobby only rolled his eyes as the two boys snickered softly; probably it was another odd colloquialism that he didn't know, then. Shrugging it off, the warrior went on, "I've never asked for anything for myself…"
He broke off in discomfort, shocked at how vulnerable it made him, to ask a favor. If he did ask to stay with them, at least for a while, they might well respond that he needed to leave. That possibility was terrible to consider. Perhaps he should just stop while he could…
"What is it?" Dean asked, making Castiel shift in the bed.
"It's just… I seem to be, um… a little low on power right now, and… well, I don't really have anywhere- that is, I wondered if I might- at least until I recover a bit…"
He couldn't do it. Not even Lucifer had made him feel so vulnerable, with all his horrifying tortures. Castiel broke off and looked away, wishing now that he hadn't said anything. From his peripheral vision, he could see Dean and Sam trading one of those looks that somehow seemed to communicate so much to each other. He wondered if they'd gleaned what he'd been going to ask. Bobby certainly seemed to, for he spoke up now,
"Well, I don't know where you were plannin' on going from here, but I hope you stay as long as you like. The boys know they always got a place here, an'… that means you, too. I sure ain't gonna kick you out."
That was something. Castiel gave the old hunter a quick, grateful look, but continued to avoid eye contact with the two Winchesters. Perhaps they would want to get back on the road by themselves as quickly as possible, which of course was only natural. Castiel tried not to think about Lucifer's words, but they echoed in his mind regardless: There will never be a place for you now.
"So, Cas..." Sam suddenly spoke up. "Dean and I were talking it over while you were out of it."
"We were hoping you'd maybe want to come along with us," Dean finished in a rush. The angel's gaze snapped up to them in shock, albeit a hopeful one.
"Really?" he couldn't help but ask. The boys both grinned, nodding. Castiel hesitated. "You should know," he said carefully, "my grace isn't going to be replenished. This is as strong as I'll ever be."
"Okay… so is that a yes?" Dean asked.
Castiel blinked, looking from one face to the next, awed by the loyalty. He thought of Sam in the Cage, saying that he was like family, and though of course Sam wouldn't remember that, Castiel could almost believe that the expression the young man wore now mirrored that sentiment. The angel didn't even know what to say.
Slowly, the feelings of intense vulnerability drained away, and Castiel swallowed hard, nodding. The elated grins on all three faces at his response were worth more than gold, and the angel would remember it for the rest of his days. His fears subsided, and Lucifer's taunts began to slip into mist. True belonging might be a lot to ask for at the moment, but at least he had somewhere to stay.
Just to know he didn't have to face the world alone, Castiel was content.
Dean sat down on the back of the old pickup at the far end of the junkyard, taking a few breaths. He hadn't felt the fresh air in a week, refusing to leave Cas's side while the angel was still out of it, but now it was refreshing and soothing against his skin. Dean closed his eyes, hardly able to believe that things had actually ended up working out.
"So, looks like the day was saved, thanks to yours truly."
The hunter couldn't restrain the yelp of surprise, leaping from the truck bed and spinning with gun already drawn. Crowley stood at the other end of the muzzle, eyebrows raising, ignoring Dean's ferocious scowl.
"Save your bullets, Squirrel," he recommended with a particularly sardonic smile. "Besides… as per the deal, I'm off limits to you. Now that you have Moose and Kitten back, which would have been impossible without me, I might add, I've held up my end of the deal. Time for you to hold up yours."
"Yeah, yeah," Dean snapped, lowering his gun slowly, eyes narrowed. "You get your Hell, Crowley, but the first demon I see trying to sucker some poor sap into a deal is getting ganked, you got it?"
"Temper, temper," Crowley returned. "That's all well and good, but you even think about coming after me…" He let the threat linger in the air like a foul odor, before musing, "I'm betting there's a way I can give Moose all those memories of his lovely time in Hell back to him, and I'm pretty sure you don't want that."
"Why you-"
"Relax," Crowley interrupted, taking a step backwards with his hands up in surrender as Dean made to lunge towards him. "As arousing as your threats of violence are, there simply isn't time for that. Just a bit of leverage, which I won't ever need to use provided you honor your word." The demon smiled, looking quite pleased with himself. "Do give my condolences to your de-feathered angel. I'll give him this much, he's not one I'd want to tango with. So long, Squirrel. If you ever fancy a chat, don't bother."
Dean wanted to tell the demon exactly what he would "fancy" doing to him, but Crowley had disappeared, leaving him to glare around the junkyard mutinously for a minute before sitting back down. So much for his fresh air.
The hunter let his head fall down, staring at his feet as he tried to process everything. Crowley's threat was a deep concern, but the demon had honored his word to help them escape Hell. Dean would keep his mouth shut—Sam and Cas would be pissed to know he'd gotten the crossroads king to help them, anyway.
Speaking of Cas… Dean looked up as a flash of tan rustled into view. The angel was looking at him uncertainly, as though not sure he was welcome to join. Dean moved over on the truck bed in invitation so Cas could sit beside him. With a grateful, weary nod, the angel sank down beside Dean.
"Sam's recovering well," Cas began. "With time, I believe his soul may actually heal itself from Lucifer's torture."
Dean nodded, wincing just at the words. Part of him wanted to ask what Lucifer had done, needing to understand what his brother had been through; part of him never wanted to know, and Cas seemed reluctant to discuss it anyway. Beside him, the angel shifted, asking uncomfortably,
"You didn't tell him why I'm so much weaker now?"
"As far as Sam knows, you losing power is still just from you being cut off from Heaven," Dean murmured in reassurance. Cas nodded, looking relieved. Dean would have been willing to bet that if he himself hadn't already known that the angel should have been more powerful than ever, Cas would have never even told him the truth.
"Good," Cas replied. "If I could just ask one favor, Dean… please keep it that way. I've watched you and Sam, you have a propensity for taking on guilt that doesn't belong to you."
Dean would have protested, but of course it was probably true. He shrugged, nodding in agreement. "So what did happen?" he asked, and even he could hear the roughness in his voice. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, Dean pulled out the feather he'd kept, painstakingly wrapped in a handkerchief and showed it to the angel as evidence that he already knew something had gone wrong. "What did you do?"
Cas glanced sideways down at the feather, then quickly looked away, eyes falling closed with a wince. Dean wrapped it back up, tucking it safely back into his jacket, before asking again, "What happened?"
For a moment, he almost thought Cas wouldn't answer at all, but finally the warrior sighed. "It's simple, Dean. In order to leave, I needed to be less powerful. I removed some grace, and I couldn't keep my wings protected from the fire. They're- they're basically gone."
"You removed some grace."
"Yes."
Dean let out a soft curse, shaking his head. He remembered Anna talking about how painful it was to cut out her own grace. What had she said? Like cutting out her own kidneys with a butter knife?
"How much?" He waited impatiently, and when Cas hesitated, demanded again, "How much grace, Cas?"
"Almost all of it. The rest, I used to take his memories."
"Son of a bitch!" Dean jumped off the truck bed, running a hand through his hair. He'd never been so conflicted; intense gratitude for the sacrifice, terrible guilt for feeling so relieved. The idea of his best friend flying through Hell while his wings literally burned away was almost more than he could stand.
"That's why I don't want Sam to know I had my grace back before the Cage," Cas pointed out from the truck. "And why I didn't tell you before going in that this was what would happen. Dean, I made the choice for myself. And to be honest, you couldn't have stopped me anyways. I was much stronger than you at that point." He paused, then sighed and said, "You're angry with me."
"No, god, no…" Dean clenched his jaw, sitting back down beside his best friend. He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing—not for the first time—that his life wasn't so damn complicated. "I'm not mad. Okay, I'm mad, but… I- damn it, Cas, I just hate seeing you get the raw end of the deal."
"It was my choice."
But that was another mystery to Dean. This loyalty from Cas… as incredible of a gift as it was, it wasn't as though he particularly deserved it. He was just some human who'd cost the angel everything.
"I get why you pulled me out..." Dean said, staring off into the distance and shaking his head. "Orders, trying to stop the seals from being broken—well, you were, anyway. But Sam… Cas, I wouldn't have ever asked you to cut your grace out. Neither would he."
Cas nodded. "I know," he assured him, voice full of gravel. "You didn't have to. It's what… friends do."
There was so much weight put on the word, but such an air of uncertainty at the same time, and Dean realized with a jolt that Cas was nervous. He turned to look at the angel, but Cas was avoiding his eyes. Why was he afraid to use the word? Was he worried that the hunter didn't see him as a friend in return?
Fine. Dean would spell it out for him.
Sighing, the hunter looked upwards to the sky and said, "Cas, you're my best friend. And, you saved my baby brother, I'll never be able to thank you enough. But… why'd you do it? Man, you knew what it was going to cost. I mean, why would you ever choose us humans?"
For a moment, the angel didn't reply. Then, he took a breath. "When we were in the Cage, Sam tried to protect me from Lucifer. When he was hurting so badly that he could barely move, he still tried to help me. Humans, Dean…"
Cas exhaled softly, shaking his head. Dean was silent, watching him, waiting. Finally, the angel turned to look at him at last, going on, "I've had a long time to watch humankind in my lifetime. You humans, and your capacity for cruelty… it almost rivals that of the monsters you hunt."
Well, that was somewhat of a slap in the face. Dean looked away, and the bitch of it was, he couldn't even argue the point. Yeah… there were some pretty screwed up people in the world, plenty of whom were monsters themselves. He didn't understand why that would be a reason for Cas to support them, but then he suddenly felt a hand touch his sleeve.
It was unusual for Cas to make actual physical contact, and Dean turned back to him in surprise. The angel wasn't smiling—he usually didn't—but his perpetually grave expression had lightened, and he finished, "But humanity's capacity for kindness… it far exceeds that of any other creation that my father made. It's… incredible, actually, the compassion that humans can show."
Again, Cas didn't quite smile, but he looked upwards, hands clasped together now as he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his legs. "I understand now, Dean. I know why we were supposed to protect your race. But for me, you and Sam are what embody it all. Even if I'm not… not really an angel now, I do at least still have a purpose. Even if that's all I have, it- it's enough."
That hadn't been quite what Dean was expecting, and he sat back a bit now, surprised. He wanted to ask more, but all he ended up saying was a firm, "That's not all you have. You've got us. You know, for whatever good that's done you so far."
For what Dean was pretty sure was the first time since he'd met Cas, the angel's mouth started to tip upwards, the corners pulling out as he looked at Dean with such intense gratitude, the hunter blinked in shock.
"Thank you, Dean," the warrior murmured with obvious sincerity. He looked up suddenly, drawing Dean's attention to Sam and Bobby, walking towards them now. They were all up on their feet at last, and—amazingly—everyone was going to be okay.
Well, Cas would have some things to get used to, of course… adjusting to an almost human life would require time and help from his friends. Sam, too, was still recovering from a horrific ordeal, whether he remembered it or not… and there were still plenty of monsters out there to fight. But they were all together, in as much relative safety as was possible for the group.
Again, Cas actually smiled, looking from the approaching couple back to Dean. "Thank you," he repeated. "It was worth it. It was worth it all."
End