Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Sam/Dean, Sam/Castiel
Warnings: Non-con, drug abuse, disturbing themes, violence, self-harm
Word Count: 78,500
Notes: Written for apocabigbang. judas_denied beta edited this for me and did all of the graphics within the story as well as art for it here. They're really awesome, so go look at them and give her praise. She also wanted to do a soundtrack, which is at the end of the final chapter.//This is AU from about the time Castiel entered the show, so keep that in mind. The story does not follow the last half of season 4 or any of season 5.
I am still trying to rise up from the loveliness of dying objects
into the loveliness of whatever it is they point to. I'm trying
to get at just how things are, to adjust to that, but then I start
shaking. Isn't that how it is with you? It was so dark inside,
but that's not the whole story. They are leaving something out.
I can feel it in the sleepless night when I run my hands over
the openings in doorways. I can feel it when my own heart
delivers all my secrets to my enemies.
Frank X. Gaspar (It Was So Dark Inside the Wolf)
When Castiel finally took the plunge and fell from grace, it was like nothing Dean would have ever imagined. It happened in a way that his mind would have shied away from even in his most vivid nightmares. Castiel didn’t walk away, didn’t jump or get shoved off of his cloud. No high up angelic boss man revoked his halo or stripped him of his wings. It happened in a dark, cold place and it was more like watching a tired man treading water, finally be dragged into the deep by a shark.
As Sam paced around him, watching Dean with his eyes shining black through the bars of his hanging cage, he reminded him of that; of a shark circling. Dean watched him back, tracking him with his own eyes, hating how much he still after everything couldn’t hate him or, failing that, stop loving him.
“Do you know… I do it all for you?” Sam asked him, pacing around him until he was at Dean’s back.
He was already going by as Dean struggled to turn in the tight confines of his cage to keep him in sight. “What bullshit,” he said. “You… what? You kill for me? Drink that bitch demon’s blood for me? Huh, Sammy? You take… You lock me up in here… Lock Cas up in here? All of that and you do it for me? Liar.”
Sam smirked at him and cocked his head. “But I’m not,” he said. He stopped pacing and leaned in to grasp two of the cage bars, looking in at Dean as his eyes cleared of smoke.
Staring into those eyes, those eyes, grey and gold all speckled and swirled together to look green like something conceived of by Seurat, Dean couldn’t even lie to himself and pretend that this wasn’t Sam. Sam twisted and corrupted down to his very last fiber, but still Sam after all.
He closed his eyes on tears that welled up to sting under his lashes and dropped his head. “You didn’t do this for me,” he said softly.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Sam said. “I did. All of it. Everything I do is for you.”
Dean laughed, humorless and full of tears and lifted his head to regard his brother. “Then stop it for me,” he said. “Do you think for a… for a damn minute this is anything I wanted? Let us go.”
Sam frowned sadly and turned his face to rest his cheek against the bars, peering in at Dean. “I can’t,” he said. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you why, but I can’t. And Dean?”
“What?” Dean said.
“You need to stop trying to save me,” Sam said. He reached a hand through the bars and ran his fingers along Dean’s arm and trailed his fingertips over the back of his hand. “I’m not possessed. This is me now. You can’t fix it and I can’t take it back.”
“You could stop,” Dean insisted. He had tears sliding down his cheeks, hot and fevered feeling and they were humiliating, but that was nothing new. He was sick to death of mourning people, especially Sam, who was still alive.
“Sam, listen,” Dean said, suddenly unfolding himself and crawling across the little bit of space between him and where Sam was staring in at him through the bars. The cage shifted, swaying on its chain, but Dean grasped the bars and pressed his face to them close to Sam’s. “Listen,” he whispered, desperate to make himself heard. To make Sam fucking listen to him. “You used to listen to me, huh? Remember? Listen to me now and fucking stop it. You’re not evil. You’re not… this.”
Sam tilted his head, his lips curving in a slow smile only inches from Dean’s. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he murmured. “I am. This is me, no possession, no coercion. Abandon hope, here there be monsters, blah, blah, blah.”
“No,” Dean said. He closed his eyes and gripped the bars of his swinging birdcage tight, tears sliding down his face to pat lightly on the concrete floor. “No.”
Sam’s fingers brushing through the tears on his chin made Dean flinch, but he didn’t pull away. He opened his eyes, begging Sam without words to take it back, to be lying. Or if not, to lie to him now and say it would be all right.
Sam pressed his mouth gently to Dean’s, brushed their lips together in the briefest kiss and whispered, “Yes. Here, let me show you.”
“Show…” Dean got up on his knees in his cage as Sam turned away from him and crossed the dank room to the other cage just like his where Castiel sat huddled and naked, watching them with a confused kind of curiosity. His cage swung and Dean clutched at the bars to keep from being tossed around inside it, staring out at Sam, following him with his eyes like there was anything he could do. “Wait, Sam… What are you doing?”
Sam reached through the bars of Castiel’s cage and stroked a hand up the side of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair to pet. Castiel watched Sam with a soft frown and said nothing. Then Sam suddenly tightened his hand and yanked Castiel’s head back and the angel sucked a pained breath through his teeth.
Sam put his other hand out and the door of the cage unlocked and swung open. “If I make this angel of yours fall… will that be enough?”
Dean swallowed around fear that was making his heart thrash against the back of his throat. “What do you mean?”
Castiel’s eyes were wide and he looked more afraid than Dean had ever seen him. Even the impending end of the world, the way people had died by the millions and angels had become hunted, hadn’t brought that panicked animal look into Castiel’s eyes like Sam’s single little question. Dean locked gazes with Castiel for a moment and then Castiel was being forced out of his cage and thrown to the floor.
“Sam, don’t,” Dean said. He pulled at his bars, though he knew it was useless.
He’d tried to escape when they woke up in this place and found it impossible. Of course it would be; Sam knew so much. Everything that their father and Dean himself had taught him had made him look at his little prison through the eyes of a potential prisoner with Dean’s kind of skill at escaping. It was all custom-made to keep him, he wasn’t getting out.
“Sam, please don’t do… whatever you’re thinking of doing,” Dean said. He watched Sam walk over to where Castiel was kneeling on the floor and his heart beat a little faster still. He didn’t know for sure, but he knew that look on his brother’s face probably better than anyone. It was a more sinister version of it, but he knew it well. “Sam,” he said. “Please, man, don’t.”
“Oh no, I have to do something, don’t I?” Sam said. He reached down and grabbed Castiel’s chin, fingers lingering at the base of his throat where his pulse was pounding. “I have to make you believe me or you’re going to get yourself killed again trying to save me. Nothing else I do has worked, maybe this will.”
“Sam, don’t,” Dean said, his voice breaking with the fear reflected back at him in Castiel’s eyes. Shit, Castiel was shaking. Sam wasn’t even really touching him, just looking at him and he was shaking. “You want me to believe you, I’ll… Do it to me. Hurt me. Make me believe you. Don’t hurt him, alright? Please.”
“I’ve tried making you believe it, but I won’t hurt you,” Sam said. He sank down on his heels before Castiel and moved his hand to slide it down his neck to his chest. He could feel Castiel’s rapid heartbeat against his hand and it made him smile. “Besides… self-sacrifice is the Winchester condition. Moreover, it’s your condition. And mine. Yours and mine. You would endure whatever pain I inflicted on you just because it’s me and for some reason you think you deserve it.”
“So what then, Sammy?” Dean asked and his voice was cracking all over the place because he could not look at the way Castiel was so scared and not feel his heart breaking. He was fucking terrified and Sam, his Sammy was doing it to him, which made it a thousand times more dreadful. “What are you gonna do to make me believe you’re the real deal? You’re the big shot movie monster in this reel, huh? So you’re going to hurt him to get to me? What makes you think he matters to me that much?”
Sam laughed softly and shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter if it were a stranger; you’d still care a little,” Sam said. “I know you. You may not give a shit when the host is looking at you with black eyes and wishing you dead, but when they start blubbering and asking for their mommies, you get all choked up inside. And this one… you know him. You even like him a bit.”
Dean threw his shoulder against the bars of his cage, upsetting it into spinning and swinging, tossing him around inside. He cursed and grabbed the bars again, trying to shake them, feeling on a deeply humiliating level just like one of that asshole Uriel’s disgusting little mud monkeys.
“Sam, goddamn it, look at him!” Dean shouted. His voice echoed back at him off the cold walls. “Look at him, he’s fucking terrified. Don’t you dare… do what you’re thinking. I don’t know what it is, but I think he does and goddamn it, don’t you dare! You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be this thing. This… What you’re doing, it’s not you. It’s that blood and that fucking cunt Ruby and all—”
“No, Dean, it isn’t,” Sam said. He ran his hand, fingers spread, lightly down Castiel’s chest to his belly, then back up. He ran his thumb over one nipple, felt it go hard at his touch and scraped it with his fingernail. Castiel’s eyes shot to him in surprised confusion and Sam grinned. “The blood’s always been in me, Dean. It’s not the blood. Ruby’s not that strong, she doesn’t hold me in her sway. Now shut up, alright?”
“No, I will not shut up!” Dean snarled and it was so, so like him that Sam laughed.
Sam moved his hand over to Castiel’s other nipple and rolled his thumb over it, watching his face, studying his reactions. When all the angel did was frown at him and look down at his own body in consternation, Sam cupped the back of his neck in his other hand and pressed with his fingers until Castiel tilted his head back.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sam told him.
Castiel’s brow furrowed and he looked over Sam’s shoulder at Dean, peering at them through the bars of his cage. He looked back at Sam as Sam pushed his palm down his belly, fingers sliding along his navel. “No,” Castiel said. “Not physically, you’re not. That isn’t… what you’re after.”
“It’s quite contrary to what I’m after, actually,” Sam said.
Sam pressed against the back of Castiel’s neck and urged him closer so he could gently press his mouth to his. The angel had no idea what to do about that, so Sam just left it at a light kiss, no tongues or teeth involved.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t find that very reassuring,” Castiel whispered, blinking at him.
“You’re forgiven,” Sam said. He grasped Castiel’s hips in his hands and yanked, sending the angel to the floor on his back hard enough to bruise his shoulders. “Now,” Sam said, unfastening his belt with a jerk as he leaned over Castiel. “Now… you’ll just have to return the favor and forgive me for not being nicer about this.”
It was on the tip of Castiel’s tongue to tell Sam that no one was beyond God’s forgiveness; all they had to do was ask and be sincere in their remorse. Then Sam was shoving his legs apart, pushing his knees up and before Castiel could wrap his mind around the reason why, Sam had pushed a finger inside him and it was burning.
Physical pain was something Castiel was very familiar with, but not anything like this… violation. The pain he had encountered throughout his long life had come from battle and nothing even remotely resembling being flat on his back with a demon stroking its fingers in his ass had ever happened to him before. He would not have allowed it.
But here he had no power and he had never felt more helpless than he did in that moment.
“What do you think?” Sam whispered to him. He ran his tongue along Castiel’s throat to his ear and nipped. “Do you think if I tear you down off your heavenly cloud my brother will believe that I’m beyond saving?”
Castiel bit his lips and flinched from Sam’s touches and kisses like they burned him. “Is that what you… truly want?”
“More than anything,” Sam said.
He pushed a second finger into Castiel’s body and spread them both, watching him intently as he arched off the floor with a cry and reached out, fingers dragging down Sam’s arms as pain bloomed in his belly.
“You said this… wouldn’t hurt,” Castiel gasped, looking back at Sam, absurdly, as though betrayed.
“Well… I lied,” Sam said. He opened and closed his fingers and Castiel jerked under him, rocking his hips to get away from the intrusion and only succeeding in working Sam’s fingers deeper. “It’s going to hurt… a little.”
Beyond them, in his cage, Dean watched them and he cursed Sam. Grumbling, he pulled his knees up to his chest defensively and watched them. He didn’t want to, but it was like… like a natural disaster. Like he had courtside seats for Ground Zero at the Pentagon or was standing in the desert watching the first nuclear bomb explode over New Mexico. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it and every second that passed, he became more and more convinced that he was going to be violently sick.
When Sam hooked an arm around Castiel’s waist and hefted his weight, Dean knew what was coming because he’d been there, right there where Castiel was, hundreds of times. He tried to steady himself against it, but there was no preparing for that and there was no word to describe the anguished wailing sound that tore from Castiel’s throat as Sam thrust into his body.
Dean dragged both hands through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp painfully as Sam started to move and Castiel’s voice broke into hitching gasps and cries that echoed off the concrete walls like screams in a cave. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t Sam’s fault, it wasn’t Sam, but he didn’t know if that mattered anymore. Didn’t know if he really believed it or if he only wanted to.
Castiel put his arms around Sam’s back, more to have something to hold onto because every thrust was dragging his back over the rough floor, than because he had any desire to touch him. He did not want to touch him. He didn’t want Sam’s smell on him, or his sweat to slide along his belly, or to like what Sam was doing to his body, but it was all happening anyway.
When the first shocks of pleasure jumped under his skin and tightened his stomach, Castiel stared up at Sam, stunned. Then he made a soft sound in his throat and it happened again, his mouth falling open with a short, surprised, “Oh.” Just that, like he’d been told something very interesting.
Sam smiled down at him and put both arms around his waist to hold him tighter, his hands against the small of Castiel’s back to support him as he threw his weight behind his thrusts. Castiel bucked beneath him, physical pleasure like nothing he’d ever felt or imagined rushing through him in tight, nearly painful beats. His fingers clawed at Sam’s back, at his arms, at his hair as he reached up to grab anything to ground or reassure himself. Something.
Sam tossed his head, hunched his shoulders and moved, fucking him hard and fast, without any mercy but with every care taken to make damn good and sure the angel enjoyed it whether he wanted to or not. “Do you know what happens to fallen angels when they die?” he whispered in Castiel’s ear.
Castiel moaned and shook his head, whether in answer to the question or in denial, it didn’t matter. “No,” he whimpered. “Stop, please. No.”
Sam pressed his face into the curve of Castiel’s shoulder and breathed him in. He smelled oddly human and for some reason this amused him. “They go to Hell,” Sam told him.
“Sam, you sadistic motherfucker, he’s begging you to stop!” Dean shouted.
He could hardly believe what Sam was doing, no matter where Castiel stood on matters of consent. He had never liked him, he damn well had never wanted him and Dean knew it. But Sam, the Sam he had known his whole life and loved more than anything would never rape anyone. If he hated them, he’d kill them, if he wanted them, it wouldn’t be rape or it just wouldn’t be.
“I hear him, Dean,” Sam said, panting. He licked his lips, tasting his own sweat and his eyes burned to black as he stared down at Castiel’s flushed face.
Castiel opened his eyes and saw it, how Sam’s eyes shined like oil and he turned his face away. He was gasping softly with each thrust, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” He repeated it over and over under his breath as pleasure built inside him, his body contracting with it in strange, alien ways.
Dean heard it, quickly followed by Sam’s laughter and he thought the angel might actually be praying. The idea was too much to bear and Dean put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, shoving his face into the backs of his thighs to block it all out.
There was a rush of light, bursting bright and white behind his eyelids and Dean pressed his face harder against the backs of his legs and pushed his hands to his ears tight as everything started to ring. It was like the tuning fork screaming sound, that swelling white noise, glass breaking sound that Castiel had once told him was the sound of his true voice. That sound filled the room with light and made his teeth ache until Dean screamed from it.
When it stopped, it was like someone had flicked a switch and turned off all the sound in the world. He didn’t at first open his eyes and look up, but eventually he had to look, he had to know.
Castiel lay on the cold floor shuddering as Sam slowly rose to his feet, pulled his pants back up and fastened his belt. As Dean watched, heartsick and afraid, Castiel drew his legs up and huddled in on himself in a defensively fetal position. He wasn’t crying, though Dean thought that he might have if the angel had known how, but small whimpering sounds of distress slipped through his clenched teeth and that was somehow worse.
Dean looked up when Sam came to stand beside his cage and he wanted to spit in his face and curse him when Sam reached through the bars to touch him, but he didn’t. He let Sam cup his cheek in his hand and run his thumb into the hollow beneath his left eye and tried to see what Sam wanted him to see. He looked at him and, knowing what he had done and why, he wanted to hate him, but he couldn’t because he loved him too much.
“Stop trying to save me, Dean,” Sam told him. Then he took his hand back and left. Left Dean in his cage, left Castiel on the floor and there was a heavy thud as the bolt on the door slid home.
Dean moved over to the bars of his cage and called softly to Castiel. Castiel rolled his eyes toward him, then just turned his face away from him and said nothing. He still made those awful whining noises, though and Dean wanted him to stop it. They were making his skin crawl and his eyes tear up.
“Cas?” he hissed. “Castiel? Hey, man, talk to me. Are you… Just, say something, okay? Say something and stop crying. God, please, stop crying.”
“I’m not… crying,” Castiel told him. He didn’t look over and he didn’t open his eyes, but at least he was responding. He was breathing in short, frightened bursts and his body was trembling, but he was speaking. That had to be something.
“Okay, okay,” Dean said. He gripped the bars of his cage and wished desperately for a lock pick, even a wire or a bobby pin, something. He hadn’t known a lot of rape victims in his life, but he guessed Castiel might not take much comfort from physical touch at the moment, still that didn’t mean he couldn’t… do something. “Fuck, we need to get out of here,” he whispered, talking mostly to himself.
Castiel made a soft chuffing sound of laughter and Dean’s eyes shot to him, surprised by it and how natural it had sounded. Angel’s weren’t usually known for their cynicism and that had been far from a happy sound.
“Cas, come on,” Dean said. He jerked at his bars and wished he had something to throw at him to get his attention, but he was as naked as Castiel. “Hey, look I know you’re… I know you’re hurt and… but you’re out there and goddamn it, Cas, you can get me out of here. We can get out of here. Look around for a key or… Come on. Shit, please.”
“He’s screaming,” Castiel whispered.
Dean turned his head to press his ear between the bars, closer to Castiel like that would make it easier to hear him. He was speaking so low that his lips were barely moving to allow the words to pass. “What?” Dean said. “Talk to me, Cas. What did you say?”
“The man whose body I’m wearing,” Castiel said, just as softly. “His name’s Jimmy. He has a wife and daughter and he’s so… so faithful. He’s in here, screaming. He won’t stop and it… hurts.”
“Well, tell him to shut the fuck up,” Dean snapped. He felt bad about it, but they had been left alone and Castiel was loose, he could get them out of this horrible place. They needed to get out. “Tell him to strap on his helmet and get up here and let me out. Cas, goddamn it, get up!”
“Stop shouting,” Castiel said flatly. “I can hardly hear you anyway and you’ll just make him come back in here.”
“Cas, come on, you can—”
“Dean,” Castiel said. “Be quiet, please. I’m tired.”
He spoke very calmly, very patiently, though he was shaking and hunched in on himself like he was breaking. It sent a chill down Dean’s spine and he shut up.
He leaned back against the bars and curled up on his side in the cage, watching Castiel’s back through the bars. Eventually the shivering subsided and the tense draw of his shoulders relaxed and Dean wondered if he slept. He had never seen Castiel sleep before and had never thought to ask him if he did. In part, he was almost positive that whether angels slept or not, this sleep was only Castiel shutting down to escape the trauma of what had been done to him. Dean wanted to wake him up and keep demanding and pleading with him to open his door and let him out, but he didn’t quite have the heart to do it.
He fell asleep himself watching the even rise and fall of Castiel’s sides as he slept. It was all too much and he was just wrung out. He couldn’t do anything and Castiel was too fucked up to do anything, so he slept.
He woke with a start a few hours later and lay there looking out through the door of his cage at Castiel, who still hadn’t moved. Dean didn’t know if he was still sleeping or not, but he hadn’t even shifted. He still lay on the floor, curled in on himself for comfort and it occurred to Dean with sudden, irrational dread that he was dead.
Dean sat up and the cage rocked, the open door squeaking as it swung with the motion. “Cas!” He hissed.
“Hey, man, are you dead?” Dean called. “Don’t be dead, okay? Please, don’t be. Hey, answer me!”
“I am not dead,” Castiel told him. He rolled over and sat up carefully, wincing at the new painful, hollow sensations in his body.
“Good, that’s good,” Dean said. “Ah… how about you get me… Cas!”
Castiel had a hand over his eyes, rubbing at them with his forefinger and thumb. At Dean’s surprised cry of his name, he looked up at him through his fingers. “What?”
Dean crawled over to the open door of his cage and stuck his head out. He looked around, sure that it must be some kind of trick or trap, but when he found nothing he crawled out of the cage and stood there, staring down at Castiel. He was grinning. “Free at last, free at last,” he said. Then he cut with the inappropriately timed humor and knelt down before Castiel. “Can you walk, do you think? We have to go.”
Castiel blinked at him and then looked from Dean to the cage behind him and back. His jaw clenched in a determined expression and he started to stand. “I will walk,” he said. His legs shook and he started to fall, but Dean was there and he caught him. Castiel tensed at the contact, but he didn’t jerk away, which would have only made him fall the rest of the way. He put a steadying hand on Dean’s arm and held on, then took a deep breath and let it out. “With your help, I will walk,” he amended.
“Sure thing,” Dean said. He cautiously put an arm around Castiel’s waist to help him along and prayed the door wouldn’t be bolted when they reached it.
The door was unlocked and the corridor beyond it was empty. There were no guards anywhere. There was no one. Dean instantly distrusted the situation, but as they made their slow way to the stairs and started up them, no one appeared to stop them.
“You tell me if you want me to carry you, alright?” Dean told Castiel the second time he almost went to his knees.
Castiel shook his head. “I do not need you to carry me,” he said stiffly.
“Whatever you say,” Dean told him as they reached the top of the last flight of stairs and he looked around. “Fuck, where’s my car?”
“I have no idea,” Castiel said, looking out over the desert where the sun had just begun to rise over the sage. “But that’s not so bothersome as the fact that we’re both naked. We may have to go back down there.”
Dean looked around at the landscape, flat and endless with no shade or water in sight and he hated to admit it, but Castiel was right. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“Indeed,” Castiel said.
“Fine, we’ll go back down and leave at nightfall,” Dean said. “We’ll just have to sleep or something, that’s all. Maybe we can find something to put on…”
“I do not want to go back down there,” Castiel said.
The look he gave Dean then was surprised and so completely lost that Dean put his hand out to touch him in comfort, only to have Castiel’s eyes widen further as he tensed. Dean let his hand drop and shrugged.
“I do not want,” Castiel whispered.
“I heard you, man,” Dean said. He took his arm from around Castiel’s waist and guided him over to the wall to lean against it if he needed to. “Here, just stay here and I’ll be right back, alright?”
“No, you don’t understand, Dean,” Castiel said. He stood with his hands braced on the concrete wall and turned a little to look at him. To Dean’s utter confusion and surprise, Castiel looked afraid.
“Hey, he’s gone, you know,” Dean said, trying to make Castiel stop looking at him that way. “They all are. We’re fine. I’m just gonna go back down there and look for some clothes, maybe some water, then I’ll be back.”
Castiel nodded and turned his head back to face the wall. Dropping his head between his shoulders, breathing slow and deep, he repeated, “I do not want,” and Dean finally got it.
“Wait, are you saying…?” Dean swallowed and looked away from him, his eyes sliding away from Castiel’s nude, shaking form to the sun-bleached desert, then back. “What are you saying?”
“I do not want to go back down there,” Castiel whispered without looking up. “I am here now, my host may die here from sun and heat and dehydration and… but I do not want to go back down there. I would rather die. I do not want.”
Castiel suddenly drew his hand back and punched the wall, the skin on his knuckles breaking open to leave little smears of blood on the grey cement. He looked at his hand dispassionately and opened and closed his fingers. “I am an angel of the Lord. We do not want… We do not die. But I want to never see that place again.” Castiel swallowed and shook his head miserably. “Something is wrong,” he whispered.
“Something’s been wrong since they fucking trapped us down there,” Dean said. He started to reach out his hand and rest it on Castiel’s tense shoulder then he remembered the way he had flinched before and instead crossed his arms over his chest and frowned down at his toes. “Like why you couldn’t just whoosh us out of here when—”
Castiel laughed, the sound cracking and dry, humorless. “Some hunter,” he muttered. “Pay attention and look up sometimes. On the ceiling, there’s a symbol. Something like the one I taught you to banish us from your presence, only it works the opposite way. Like burning oil, I could not leave that way. Only through the door like a human.”
Dean scowled. It was a stupid oversight and a trick he and Sam had used themselves to trap demons with devil’s traps, but Castiel was right, he had never bothered to look up. Of course, he’d been a little distracted by things that were going on at his own level, but it was still careless. It still annoyed him to have Castiel pointing it out to him.
“What about now?” Dean said. “Fly us out of here now, Mighty Mouse. There’s no symbol and no door, but you look like you’re about to fall over.”
“I told you… Something is wrong,” Castiel said. He turned and put his back to the wall, then let himself slide down it to sit with his back against it. “Dean.”
Dean’s eyes shot to Castiel’s, then away. The broken, dead expression on the angel’s face made him feel queasy, reminded him of Castiel whispering to God while Sam raped him on the floor. “What?”
“Perhaps you should go look for our clothes now,” Castiel said.
Dean frowned without looking at him again and nodded. “Sure,” he said. “But hey, don’t disappear on me while I’m down there, alright?”
Castiel didn’t say anything for a while and Dean finally did look at him again just to see if he’d heard him. “I suspect… I suspect I may not be going anywhere that I do not walk for a long while,” he murmured.
Dean didn’t know why the sound of that bothered him, but it did. Still frowning, he left Castiel there to go back into the chamber underground. He didn’t want to either, there was an irrational feeling that he would be trapped back inside if he did, but he went anyway.