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"You're just sad, and pathetically weak," Ishim said, grabbing onto the lapels of Castiel's coat. He felt his head loll as he forced his eyes to focus on the angel in front of him. Who used to be his commander, the one he'd looked to for guidance. That'd been a long time ago, yes, and while they'd never necessarily gotten along, it was hard to reconcile his memory with what he was seeing. Someone profoundly twisted and sick, not knowing nor caring about anything beyond their own wants and desires.
Another fist hit him, and he bit back a grunt as his head snapped into the pew behind him. More blood seemed to drip down his face.
The hostility, the anger, that Ishim had shown before. That Cas had understood. His own faults had led to the Fall, and he couldn't blame any angel for hating him. All the taunts, even the ones about Sam and Dean, he'd forced himself to forget. He deserved it, of course. But this? Learning that Ishim hadn't only killed a human child, an innocent, but got himself and Mirabel and Benjamin to help him? That was a step beyond what he could abide. Of course, it wasn't like he could do anything now, getting beaten.
A final shove sent him laying back against the wood, eyes staring at the opposite wall. He forced his brain to think, to form coherent thoughts from the muddle that was currently there. Something as simple, as human, as this shouldn't hurt him. Not this much. But it seemed his grace was really spent from healing Ishim. Each punch, each hit, stung. But not as much as the words. Those words that seemed to flow so freely from his brother.
Lies, lies wouldn't hurt him. But each thing he said was the truth. He was weak, and pathetic. Able to be knocked out of a fight with a few punches. No longer was he the chosen one by God to find the righteous man. He had fallen much, much farther than any of his brothers.
Words reached him, although they seemed far away, underwater. From his angle, he could just make out a glint of silver light, reflecting off an angel blade. His heart kicked into gear, not only for himself, but for Dean. The man was smart, he reminded himself. Dean would find a way out of this.
The church's wall was dirty, grime marring what must have been a cheery yellow underneath. A few symbols still hung on the wall, just as sullied and broken. A cross, nearly in half and hanging by a sole nail. Some stained glass window that was unidentifiable through the dust.
His mind kept drifting, despite his efforts. His eyes sliding a bit more closed until he managed to gain enough energy to flick them back open.
"... by cutting it out."
Ishim's voice reached back to his ears, slicing through whatever wool was in his head. Dean. Dean.
He managed to roll over, groaning as his head spun. He forced his eyes towards Dean, forced them to stay open and alert and focused. The hunter's hand was poised over a shaky-but-still-usable banishing sigil. Ishim stopped his approach at Dean's command.
"Do it. You blast me away, you'll blast away every angel in the room." Dean's gaze flicked towards him, and their eyes met. Cas tried to get him to understand, screaming at him in his head to just do it, he didn't matter. But still, his friend hesitated. "I'll survive. Castiel, on the other hand? He's hurt. He might live, or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall."
Ishim was right, of course. Being banished while injured is an unpleasant, and often dangerous, situation. Before the Fall, their wings were enough to lessen the impact and make the travel through the ether less... damaging. Even now, ruined as they all are, they do manage to lessen the danger somewhat. But being injured and thrown so carelessly into the ether is similar to the human metaphor of being thrown in a blender. The chance that he would end up half in a wall or literally nowhere at all was quite high, with his grace being so low and his vessel damaged.
"Roll the dice," Ishim finished. Dean looked back at him, and he was still trying to tell him to do it. Ishim would kill them both, and at least this way there was a chance they could survive. But still Dean hesitated.
"Dean," He managed to croak out, nodding as best he could. Do it, he screamed silently. Save yourself.
But of course Dean didn't. Not that Cas really expected any different. Dean would never sacrifice one of his family to save himself. Even if that choice was stupid and hurt more people in the long run.
"That's what I thought," Ishim sneered, before stalking up to his friend. Dean stood from his crouch, getting a punch in to Ishim's cheek before the angel slammed him back into a wall. Dean was held there by some power while his commander stalked over. "You humans, you show such sentiment. Such... stupidity."
He laid a fist onto Dean's cheek, splitting it open. Blood started to drip down steadily.
"I loved Lily. But she, she didn't love me. Oh, but Akobel? The great and mighty scholar? That was just perfect for her." Cas felt his eyes slip closed a bit as more punches landed. He forced them back open, taking in Dean's slightly redder face. "Her humanity, it corrupted me. Just like you have corrupted Castiel. He's God's chosen, the one meant to be the savior of the Apocalypse. But you two apes had to go and mess that all up."
He released whatever had been holding Dean up, and the hunter collapsed to the ground.
"I was going to kill you, do exactly what I had to do to save myself from Lily. But I can tell that your hold runs too deep. Just destroying you isn't enough. So me and Cas, as you call him, are going to have a little chat." Before either of them could fully process what he was saying, Ishim had grabbed Dean's arm and held his palm just above the banishing sigil. "Well, if he survives the trip,"
And then he forced the hunter's hand down, and they were both thrown bodily into the ether.
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The first thing he felt was pain. His entire body was just one big, pulsing ball of agony. His wings were the worst, though. The burned and broken feathers had been battered by the undercurrents, becoming even more ragged. He felt down into his chest to heal, but his grace was curled into a tighter ball than before, protesting any use.
He forced his eyes open. They felt as though weights were attached to the lids, forcing them down and keeping his vision shrouded in black. But he needed to see, to try and figure out where he was and how to get back to Dean.
There wasn't much difference between the darkness of his closed eyes and that around him. A single shaft of what seemed to come from a fluorescent lamp shone near his feet. It lit up part of the concrete floor his legs were resting on, and the similar grey of the walls.
It seemed to be a warehouse of some kind, although he doubted that's where they came out of the ether originally. His coat was dirty, bits of mud and grass sticking to the fabric. Someone had moved him to this place. His back was resting against a concrete support beam, keeping him upright.
He moved his legs under him, groaning as they protested the movement. All his muscles were tense and bruised and sore, feeling as though they hadn't been used in eons. He bit his lip to avoid making any sound as more pain radiated up his spine.
Eventually he was crouching, leaning heavily against the pillar. He moved his hands, trailing them up the concrete until he managed to gain enough energy to try and stand. This time, he couldn't keep back a low groan as his knees straightened. His weight was being completely kept up by the beam.
He tried to take a step, but the world abruptly started to spin. Even clinging to the pillar, his knees buckled, sending him sprawling back to the ground. His wings, hidden in a pocket of the ether, trembled as agony ripped through them. It felt as though he was loosely held together by thread which had slowly started to unravel and fray.
He laid there for a while, breathing heavily and trying to force coherent thoughts through his brain. Dean could still be in danger, and Sam. He couldn't just leave them there, with the threat of Lily Sunder and Ishim. He needed to protect them, to fight for them.
Just as he managed to gain enough energy to try again, footsteps reached his ears. They were long and slow, deliberate. As though the person behind them knew the terror they brought and was purposely drawing it out. That's not something he would put behind Ishim. His former commander had always been a bit cruel, deeming out punishments he'd felt were hardly necessary. Of course, most of the time he was the one suffering through them. Ishim had always hated him and his destiny.
One of the main tactics he'd use was anticipation. Let you hear that he was trailing a whip behind him, but not let you see. Drag the blade across your throat, but gently, without cutting. It didn't help that Castiel had never been one to follow orders blindly. Larger disobedience was dealt with by Zachariah and, as he now knows, even Naomi. But smaller things, like hesitation in battle? Commanders dealt with that. And for him a few hundred years ago, that'd been Ishim.
Finally, the other angel stepped into the light, illuminating both his features and the blade held loosely in his palm. It sent another shiver down his spine, but he tried to hide that. If Ishim was here, that meant he wasn't with Dean, which meant maybe, beyond hope, his friend wasn't dead.
"I see you're awake, Castiel," Ishim said, stepping closer towards him. He tried to crawl backwards, but his limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate. "Honestly, I was pretty sure the banishing sigil would kill you. But it seems you just don't want to die."
Ishim grabbed his shoulder, pushing his back into the pillar. He groaned, the movement making his head spin again. He moved the blade until the tip was just under his neck, pushing gently into his skin.
"God chose you, out of all the angels, to bring the righteous man back from Hell. And now look at you: broken and beaten, because of those primates." He moved the celestial steel down, until it caught on the first button of his shirt. A bit more pressure and it popped off. "They are a disease to us, Castiel. They get inside our heads and twist our emotions. We were meant to follow God's command, not those of his creations."
Another twist of the blade and a second button broke free. Ishim pushed back the two sides of the shirt, baring the skin on his chest. He traced over it lightly, barely pressing down. The angel leaned in close to his ear, ignoring his flinch.
"Zachariah, Naomi, myself? Everyone keeps trying to fix you, to mend whatever's wrong in that stupid little brain of yours," He tapped lightly on Cas' head, right on his temple. "What was it Naomi always said? You're the spanner in the works? How right she was."
He pushed the blade down a bit more, until it pierced the skin slightly under his collarbone.
"Lily, she infected me, caused me to feel and love. Her humanity corrupted me, same as those Winchesters have done to you. Now that Zachariah's dead, and Naomi, seems it falls back to me to try and fix you."
He suddenly put more pressure down, forcing the knife fully through his skin. Castiel tried to swallow his scream, which instead came out as a low groan. His eyes fluttered shut again, head pounding steadily with his vessel's heart beat. He tried to get his grace to heal the wound, but it protested weakly. Barely any was visible in the deep gash.
"Look at you- you could barely heal me without your grace failing. It took nothing more than a few punches to disarm you. Do you even know how far you've fallen?"
The world was tilting slowly, and he could feel his back slipping off the support beam. Ishim grabbed his collar, holding him up against it. A finger trailed gently down his cheek and he shivered, forcing his eyes open again.
"The Winchesters-" He started, before swallowing. Talking hurt much more than it should. "-have been better brothers to me... than any angel has ever been."
A fist flung out into his lip, causing more blood to stream down his chin. Before he could even process what had happened, his former commander hefted him to his feet. He swayed, relying fully on Ishim to keep him from falling. His body sung with pain, every cell and bone crying out and protesting the movement.
"They are not your family, Castiel." The angel said, breath warm against his ear. Such anger and vehemence filled his voice that he shuddered. "They are nothing more than animals, that should be begging at our feet."
"No." He replied back before thinking. "They are better than anything we could ever be."
Ishim let go of him with a growl, and the impact made him cry out. He struggled to sit up, leaning against the pillar and breathing heavily. All his limbs felt heavy, almost like he was tired. The humanity of it made something twist inside him.
"I see we have much work to do yet, Castiel."
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He wasn't sure how much time passed with Ishim just making cuts on his chest. The pain, which should have been slight from something so superficial, seemed magnified. He managed to not scream, though. He hadn't given the angel the satisfaction. Yet.
Blood was streaming down his skin now, soaking deep into his white shirt.
He tried to focus on Dean, and Sam. They were out there, hopefully safe. Hopefully not trying to find him. As much as Ishim hated humanity, he seemed to have left them alone while he'd been unconscious. At least, that's what he'd said, and what Cas desperately wanted to believe.
"You have caused so much death among your brethren, Castiel. The circumventing of the Apocalypse. The Fall. Do you even know how painful that was? Feeling our wings be ripped apart and burned and broken, because you decided take matters into your hands. All because of two humans."
Ishim stepped back, wiping the blade on his already bloody shirt. His eyes closed during the momentary respite, trying to focus on his breathing. The world was still spinning, whether because of the damage to his grace or the blood loss his vessel was suffering from, he didn't know.
A hand pushed some of his sweaty hair off his forehead, letting a thumb drift gently over his brow. The gesture was comforting, but so opposite to the pain he felt that everything seemed muddled.
"I'm doing this for you, Castiel. Those apes, you've let them defile you, dirty you. Just look at that name they call you. Cas. They don't view you as an angel anymore, stripping you of your heavenly title.
"You must let them go, brother. Renounce them."
He flicked his eyes open, trying to focus on Ishim. The blade was still being held loosely in his palm, but it wasn't being used. The angel was offering comfort and safety. He hadn't felt welcomed by his brothers in so long. Maybe-
"Renounce. Them."
Something pulled inside him. Another feeling of love and comfort. But not with his brothers and sisters; with two men who accepted him into their family, allowed him to become something close to them.
They were his brothers. Not Ishim, nor Zachariah or Naomi.
"They have never hurt me like the angels have. They have never tortured me, nor killed innocents in the name of our Father." He stopped to take a long shuddering breath before continuing. "No, I will never renounce their name."
Rage poured off Ishim, but he simply stopped moving his hand where it lay on Cas' face. They stared at each other for a moment, glares clashing. He forced his eyes to stay open and focused and to not slip away again. Sleep tugged on him, but he fought against it.
Ishim's hand drifted down his cheek, trailing gently, until it reached his chest. Fingers pushed slightly into the cuts on his collarbone, and he had to hold back a groan.
"I see now just how deep their hold goes in you." His hand wrapped loosely around his throat, thumb ghosting over his Adam's apple. The gesture of power and dominance was obvious, and forced his body to not shudder with disgust. "It will take much more to break than I thought."
His thumb moved higher, pushing his head up by the bottom of his chin. He glanced to the ceiling, unnerved by his inability to be anything more than a doll at Ishim's hands. He clenched his hand, but even that sent ripples of pain up his arm.
"Back before, in our garrison, you were always against the punishments. Thought they were unneeded, if I remember right. 'Not what our Father would have wanted', I believe were your exact words." Another finger pulled down his lower lip, and he closed his eyes. This time he couldn't hold back the small noise that came from the back of his throat. Ishim chuckled approvingly.
He let go of his lip, his hand going back up to his hair. It stroked almost lovingly through the greasy strands. "I'm sorry, Castiel. These humans, they've corrupted you in a way that we should have been able to prevent. I should have seen that, and for that I will always have regrets."
He tried to reply back, to defend Sam and Dean, but he just couldn't muster up the energy.
"Ever since that first time we came down to Earth, you've been different. Not that you remember that first time, anyway. Naomi always was messing with your head in one way or another. We should have seen your Fall coming, should have done more to help you. But I will do that now, brother."
Castiel's eyes were still closed, but he felt the hand in his hair stop moving. Everything seemed to stop for a moment. He focused on his breathing, forcing his vessel to take in air that it was protesting for some reason.
He heard the rustle of Ishim stepping back, and forced his eyes back open. The angel was standing over him, his grip on the blade having tightened. His fear caused his heart to beat faster, but he could do nothing beyond lay there at Ishim's feet.
"I will help you now, Castiel. I will cut out this disease the humans have infected you with."
And then he plunged the blade deep into Cas' gut.
Pain jumped through his body, a groan punching out of him. His head slammed back into the pillar behind him, eyes screwed tightly shut.
Ishim grabbed the hilt of the knife, before twisting it slowly. He couldn't hold back a scream this time, wrenching from deep in his throat. His back was arched away from the beam, causing more pain to fill him. He tried to breathe through the agony, but everything seemed shaky and wobbly.
The other angel finally stopped, and he slumped back down. The blade was pulled quickly from him, and he coughed weakly. His vision was swimming, and he closed his eyes tightly to try and fight the gag in his throat.
He laid there for a few moments, putting most of whatever energy he had into not throwing up or passing out. Soon the dizziness and faintness eased a bit, and he managed to look around him again. Ishim was standing in the same place, stoic with his blade dripping blood.
"Those humans have done this to you, Castiel. They've made you weak and pathetic. You have fallen because of them. We all have. Now, renounce them."
His mind felt stuffy, like that time he'd had a cold as a human. All achy and pounding, filled with something that made it hard to think. Renounce who? Would that cause all this to stop? He'd like it to stop.
"Renounce the Winchesters, Castiel. Renounce humanity."
The Winchesters. Sam and Dean. And all the other humans he'd met in the past few years. He couldn't do that, couldn't hurt them like that. They had caused him to fall, yes, but he didn't regret that. Choosing free will was a choice he'd never regret.
"No." He said weakly, coughing. He felt wetness on his chin, but managed to shake his head. "No, Ishim."
A fist hit his face faster than he could comprehend, sending him laying on the floor. It jostled his wounds, and he let out another groan.
"After everything they have done to you, angel?" Another punch split his cheek. "Everything they have done to all of us, you still defend them?" A foot caught him in the stomach, just under the stab wound, and he screamed again.
The world was spinning more now, darkness encroaching on the edges. Ishim was still yelling at him, still beating him, but he couldn't really hear him. His eyes closed, sleep tugging on him harder now. And he just didn't have the energy to stop it.
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It was more difficult to awaken this time. Somehow, impossibly, his body hurt more. It was some of the worst pain he'd felt in a long time, enough that he couldn't hold back a low groan just laying there. How something as simple as some cuts hurt him so much was breathtaking.
While Ishim had been right that the banishing sigil hadn't killed him, it had dismantled his grace thoroughly enough that his wounds hadn't healed at all while he'd been unconscious. He didn't need to look to know his stomach was still bleeding.
A hand settled on his arm, and he jerked away. The grip turned menacing, holding the joint tightly enough it shifted. Another moan left him at the feeling, eyes flying open.
"Castiel, do you renounce them?" Ishim said, his voice mocking. His hand hadn't let up any, instead tightening, impossibly, more.
"Ishim, please-" He started to try, the words scraping along his throat.
"Begging now, angel? I thought you were better than that?" His commander sneered, jerking his hand back. He felt his shoulder pop out, and once again a scream left him.
He tried to plead again, but the words wouldn't leave him. Instead, his mouth moved with no sound, gasping for breath.
"Those mud monkeys have weakened you. How do you not see it? No longer are you 'the mighty Castiel', the angel known throughout the garrisons. Now you're just some humans' pet." His words were punctuated by a finger digging into the wound in his stomach, twisting cruelly.
Tears of pain swam in his eyes, and he choked as more blood filled his mouth. His head spun.
He heard footsteps, distantly. Ishim stiffened beside him, pulling out his hand and standing back up. Cas struggled to breathe through the copper in his mouth, eyes shutting and letting the tears flow down his face. He could barely think through the agony, much less do something.
"Ishim." A voice called out. Feminine, barely familiar. His body struggled to place it, before giving up. Not worth the effort. He heard the sounds of scuffling, along with a few groans.
A hand settled on his bad shoulder again and he flinched, groaning.
"Cas!" A voice called out. This one seemed much closer, and filled his chest with some warmth. Still, though, he couldn't quite place it. "I need you to hold on, okay? We're getting you out of here."
More hands were grabbing him and he startled. His eyes flew open, staring into green ones. A name floated through everything. Dean, this was Dean. Dean was good. Dean was safe.
He relaxed into the hunter's arms, feeling that heavy pull of unconsciousness try to sweep him under. He tried to fight it, but eventually it won out. He wasn't scared, though. Dean had him. He would be alright.
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He was warm.
He felt safe.
There wasn't much pain here.
He floated along slowly, deep in unconsciousness. It was nice here. He could think clearly and move without agony. But he didn't want to move, just lie here for an eternity, drifting slowly. It was easier than facing the outside world.
But of course, nothing good lasts long. Too soon the waters became rougher, throwing him around. His body ached and protested, before becoming real pain. It stabbed through his stomach, making him gasp and try to arch away. He fought, but felt something holding him down. And, finally, he opened his eyes.
Dean was staring down at him, saying something. It took a second to hear through the blood rushing through his ears.
"Cas, I need you to stop fighting us!" He realized he was thrashing wildly, although his hands were pinned by Dean's and his legs under the hunter's body. He forced himself to stop, breathing heavily. "There you go, buddy. Deep breaths."
"Dean?" He asked, surprised by how small his voice sounded. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, but now some of the pain was coming back. "What's- where are we?"
His friend's face softened, a hand coming up to stroke his hair. It was so similar to Ishim that he flinched. A brief look of hurt passed across Dean's face, before being replaced with worry. "We're in the Impala, Sam's driving us to a motel. Then we'll get you patched up."
He glanced down towards his stomach, and saw the wads of fabric Dean was holding against it. They were soaked with blood.
"Ishim?"
"Lily took care of him," Dean said grimly. "After seeing you... like that, she said that was enough for her revenge. She left."
"How did you find me?" He asked, letting his eyes close again.
"We tracked your phone. Took us a few hours to drive there, but we're lucky you weren't farther.
He hummed, listening to the growl of the engine. It was comforting and familiar, and once again he felt safe.
He must have drifted off again at some point, because in the next instant the engine disappeared, and Dean was helping him sit up. He let out a low groan as he moved, everything protesting against it.
"I know it hurts, but we've just got to fix you up a bit and then you can go back to bed." Dean's voice said. With one arm slung around Dean's shoulders, and Sam holding onto his waist, they made their way slowly into the motel room.
It felt like they'd journeyed miles by the time he was lying down on a bed. His first thought was that they were going to ruin the sheets, although that hardly seemed important. When he told Dean that, the hunter smiled sadly and said they'd buy new ones.
"I need you to tell me what hurts, Cas, and if you can heal it yourself." Sam's voice came from next to him. He tried to nod, but the movement made his head spin.
"My head. And my shoulder. And stomach," He said, groaning as Dean relieved the pressure on his gut. "My grace was too damaged by the sigil to heal anything."
He knew the two brothers exchanged worried glances without even looking, but Sam still tried to reassure him. "That's not too bad, but we're going to need to fix your shoulder and stitch you up, then." He sounded apologetic.
"'s fine." He muttered.
The noises of them getting supplies together felt like daggers to his skull, but he managed to not make a sound. They would only feel bad about causing him more pain, even though it's not their fault.
He faintly heard them counting, before his shoulder was wrenched back into place. Agony rippled up his arm, and he arched his back to try and get away. But a strong hand was there, pushing him back down onto the bed.
A needle pierced through his skin an indeterminate amount of time later, and he let out a choked moan. It hurt. Not as much as the other things, but still. A shape he soon recognized as Dean came next to him, holding onto his good shoulder and talking to him.
"Just breathe through it, Cas. You're safe now."
And as he felt the pull back under that sea, he let it take him. Because he was safe with these humans. Despite what Ishim said, they didn't make him weak or pathetic.
They made him stronger.