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After muddling over who could have gotten him out of Purgatory, and coming up with only one conclusion. God was the only one, he could think of, that would have had any reason to rescue him. But God wasn't around. Was He? And Castiel also concluded that the only reason God would have put him back on Earth, not in Heaven to pay for his crimes, was to find his charge, Dean Winchester, and help him. With what? He had no idea, but if that was indeed what his commission was, then he would do whatever he had to do to follow orders.
He had been back for three Earth days, and came up with no clues. Evidently Dean still had the Enochion carvings on his ribs.
"Could you have at least taken the carvings off of him?" Castiel prayed as he continued his search for Dean. "Could you have at least made it a little easier? I am certainly not attempting to tell you, Father, how to do your job, and am not in any way doubting your wisdom, just asking."
' Perhaps Father is testing me.' the Angel thought, as he pondered how he could go about finding Dean. 'If so, then I must do whatever I have to do to find the hunter, and find out what he needs help with.' Castiel was determined to prove himself, once more, worthy to be an Angel of the Lord.
A thought suddenly accurred to him.
'Since Sam had been possessed by Lucifer, purhaps the carvings are no longer on his ribs. Why have I not thought of it before? Surely Dean would find his brother as soon as he got back.' He had been so focused on Dean he had not thought to look for the younger Winchester.
Castiel focused on Sam Winchester and felt the man's life force, it was very muddy and weak. Castiel frowned and immediately appeared in the basement of an old cabin, facing something that sort of resembled a man, hanging suspended from a wooden beam, which was hanging by chains from the ceiling. His arms were spread wide over his head, wrists nailed to the beam. There were bruises, cuts, and burns covering Sam's intire body, from the top of his shaved head to the bottom of his bloody toeless feet, that had been cotterized, as was the area that once belonged to his genitals. Both legs were bent and broken in several places, the femur on his right leg was protruding from the skin.
Castiel could hardly believe that the life force he had been feeling was coming from what was hanging there.
'How can Sam still be alive at all?' the Angel wondered, as he carefully relieved the wooden beam of the waight of Sam's overly large body, and gently laid his mutilated friend on the old mattress, he had spotted, over by the wall. He could feel other life forces coming from inside the cabin, and heard voices. Voices that were not familiar to him. So Castiel took a flying trip to the upper level of the cabin. He would have healed Sam before investigating the upstairs, but he didn't want to be interrupted if the people came back down.
"That was an excelant idea, Tracy. Wackin' him off. In a manner of speakin'." The darker of the two men said laughing, as Castiel arrived invisable in the room where three hunters were leisurely sitting around an old wooden table, Sam's blood still smeared and splattered on their clothes and faces, drinking beers and laughing, like there wasn't a man down stairs hanging on to the last shreds of his life. Castiel was appalled. These were the human monsters that had hurt Sam so murcelessly, and were now laughing about it.
"Yeah, well. It's not like he's human, ya know." The girl replied, a sour but satisfied look on her face. "What's he gonna do with a dic? Make more monsters like him? Just wish I could've heard him scream a few times, though. Like my family did when the demons..."
Castiel had heard more then he wanted. The three suddenly sat frozen, and would stay that way until Castiel unfroze them, if he ever decided to do so.
"I shall let Sam decide what to do with you, when he is strong enough." he told them, then went back to heal Sam.
Castiel found Sam's discareded manhood and toes in the trash, thankful the body parts hadn't been sliced up into dog food. That would have made it more defficult, but not impossible to reattach them to their proper places. After the reattachments, Castiel sat about healing the rest of Sam's body. As he worked, Castiel found more internal injurries, and thought about what the girl, Tracy, had said, "Wish I could've heard him scream a few times though." Sam had not expressed feeling any of what had been done to his body. Castiel frowned, wondering why that was.
Regretably there wasn't anything Castiel could do about Sam's mentle or emotional state, or the loss of his hair and blood, though. Those were things that would have to heal themselves. He knew his friend. Sam would come out of this, and be a stronger and better person. Sam had been through worse, he had faced Lucifer and Michael in the cage, and although he had been bent, badly, Sam had not been broken. And this could not be any worce then that.
He still had no idea how to find Dean.
The Angel, creasing his brow, cocked his head to one side, and stared down at the unconscious young hunter, considering an idea.
'Maybe I can contact Sam's consciousness, and he can tell me where I can find Dean. And perhaps I shall be able to help Sam wake up.'
Placing his hand on Sam's forehead, Castiel allowed his own consciousness to envade Sam's mind. It was dark. Darker then anything he had ever experienced. The Angel was very, very, very concerned. There should be at least some kind of activity, some, even a little, light. But there didn't seem to be any signs of life at all. Sam was breathing, it was shallow, but was there. His heart beat weakly, but still. There should be some kind of conscious thought. There was absalutely nothing.
As Castiel wandered through the darkness of Sam's mind, he began to hear Dean's voice. It seemed , bits and pieces, of Sam's memories were active through his unconscious state.
It was good to hear his old friend's voice again. - Castiel thought he would never get to hear it again after Dean left Purgatory, - But the words and the way they were being said, were very disconcerting.
"Sam thinks you're all part of something horrible. I hope to God he's wrong, but I'm beginning to think he might be right."
"It doesn't matter, at the end of the day we're family. Somethin's gonna get me aventually, just so ya know, whatever's happened, we're good. Clean slate."
"If I didn't know you... I'd want to hunt you."
"You're a freak."
"It means you're a monster."
"I tried so hard to pretend you're not one of the filthy things we hunt."
"We're not even the same spesies!"
"You're a monster Sam. A vampire! You're not you anymore, and there's no going back."
"I'm giving you fair warning, I'm done tryin' to save you."
"I just don't believe... In you."
"I can't trust you.:
"You let me down in so many ways."
"Benny's been more of a brother to me, this past year, then you've ever been!"
He was wrong. So very wrong. This was, in so many ways, worse then anything Lucifer and Michael could have ever put Sam through. This was real. This was Dean's own words. Most of it anyway.
One other thing Castiel found odd, was the lack of emotion from Sam. With everything Sam's memories were conjuring up, there should have been an abundence of emotions bombarding Sam. But it was like Sam wasn't even there. Like when his body was soulless. There was more, Dean was saying, so much more. It seemed to be playing on a loop. But he was unable to listen to Dean's monologue any longer.
Castiel pulled out, with a gasp. He wasn't aware that Angels could gasp, he couldn't recall ever doing it before.
Castiel recognized some of the statements Dean made, and he supposed Dean had, had some justification for some of them, but, "You're a vampire. I'm giving you fair warning, I'm done trying to save you." had not been Dean's words, but in truth were Zachariah's manipulation, to drive Sam to do what they had wanted him to do. And Sam still had no idea that wasn't the message Dean had left at all. Castiel made a vow, he would rectify that as soon as Sam came back from whereever he had wondered off to.
But what in Father's name had Sam done that was so bad that Dean would consider Sam one of the things they hunt, Sam not being the same spesies as Dean, and Benny being more of a brother to Dean then Sam?
"What kind of hell has the Winchesters gotten themselves into this time?" Castiel asked the eerily silent room. "Perhaps this is the problem Father wants me to help the brothers with."
He needed a phone, but the one he had carried once, had been lost a long time ago.
Appearing in the room with the human monsters, as Castiel had decided to refer to the three others in the cabin as, he rummaged in the pockets of the males, and found what he had hoped to find. Dieling Dean's cell phone number from memory, he tapped the green button, listened to it ring, and waited for Dean to answer.
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Dean sat, slouched on the floor, propped up, sort of, at the foot of the bed. Four empty whiskey bottles layed around the motel room, where Garth had left Dean, at Dean's addament, bordering on violent, insistence. A fifth empty lay at his left side, and a sixth, half empty bottle in his right hand. He was staring mindlessly into nothing. His mind was tired of thinking, his soul done with emotions. After two days Sammy was still gone. It was Dean's falt. All Dean's fault.
Dean had called every hunter he knew, that was still alive. No one had heard from Sam, or knew of anyone that had any information about his pain-in-the-ass wayward little brother. It seemed Sammy had just dropped off the face of the Earth.
If Bobby was still around, he could go to him, and Bobby could do a location spell to find Sam, but Bobby wasn't around any more, Castiel was still lost in Purgatory, thanks to Dean and his inability to keep the ones he loves safe, he sure as hell wasn't gonna summon Crowley, he probably wouldn't answer anyway, and Dean didn't know anything about spellwork. That was Sam's expertise. Dean would just screw it all up, and probably wind-up with purple hair, or green skin, or both, permanently.
Somewhere, Wanted Dead or Alive, started blairing into Dean's empty thoughts. His head dropped drunkenly to the side, and green eyes glaired, blurrly at the floor beside him, where the noise was coming from.
A number he didn't recognize was flashing across the screen of his cell phone.
Dean was in no mood, or condition, to help anyone with a hunt. Nor did he want to.
Dean started to hit decline, then he stopped.
'Wat's if it Swammy, calltin fram swum ones he bar-oes? may-ee sum-baa-ee's seens 'im.' his thoughts staggered.
He picked up the phone,
"Yeah?"
"Dean?" A deep, gravelly voice came over the line, a voice Dean didn't expect to ever hear again. He thought he was hallusinating in his drunken state of mind, wanting his friend back so badly. Especially since Sam had abandoned him...again. No. Not abandoned. Fled. Sam had fled for his own mental and physical survival.
'Bu' whys 'm I 'lus-unatin' Cahs ober da pho'? Whys hims not her?' his drunken mind wanted to know.
'Because you're ashamed to face the Angel.' his subconscious supplied.
"Dean? Are you there? Can you hear...?"
"Cahs? Wh'er da hell 'rrr y'u?" Dean asked, coming out of his catitonic mindset, hearing his friend's voice again. "Cahs, ow're y'u ev'n a...bale ta cawls...?"
"Dean, I need to know where you are, right now." Castiel said, a little more urgently then Dean thought would be necessary.
"Cahs...?"
'He is drunk.' Castiel thought incredulous. 'Beyond drunk, from the sounds of his language.' "Dean. You have to listen to me. I have found Sam. I do not know what..."
"Y'u fron Swammy? W'air? Ish him's ok?" Dean slirred, trying, and failing to get to his feet. "Cahs, wh're ish him's, him's ok. 'ite?"
"No, Dean. Sam is not ok. He is very far from o..."
"Wh'? W'at 'appen to him's? coodn't fine's him's. Him's..."
"Damn it, Dean! Where the hell are you!" the Angel demanded. "I need to get Sam to where you are, and you need to get sober. Sam needs your help! NOW!"
Dean caught his bare foot on the carpit, stumbled against the wall, as he once again attempted to stand up, and let fly a few loud explanitories.
" 'ell funtin' s'it! 'cot'ta get sob---od---no, not ri-- 'od 'am-it ot-- gotta 'elp Swammy! Cahs oo t'ere? Le-- 'et m'e ge--et t'e the 'oom room key 'ait a m--- min--- min! Ahhh! Funkin' sh't! Ca't fi'd da damn thi-- thing! Cahs, ca't y'u u jus ponp here? I ca't fi'd da fuckin' thing. Shit!"
Castiel sighed. It was a good thing he had learned to translate drunken Dean a long time ago.
"No Dean, I cannot just "pop" where you are. The sigils are still on your ribs. I cannot find you. You must tell me where you are, so I can "pop" there."
"W'll tak da damn thin's of me thin. Shit! So's y'u. Shit! Dammit ta h'll! Ya... so ya c'n fin me, Cahs."
"I cannot do that from here, Dean. You know that. So sober your ass up right now." Dean looked at his phone with a "WTF, and what the hell'd you do with Cass?" expression. "Because Sam needs you. I don't know what went on between the two of you, but three hunters, that do not view your brother, and by the way, Sam is your brother, as a man. They hurt him..."
"Wat you me'n th'y din't... How y'u pu' it?... Din't ve u Swammy 'ike a man's?! Day hu't Swammy?! I gon'a rip dim oungs 'ut! N y'u thin' I do't no Swammy's my bro'her?!" Dean yelled into his phone.
"Dean you have to tell me where you are. Go outside and find the name of the motel you are at, and the room number. RIGHT THE HELL NOW!"
Again Dean looked at his phone, in disbelief. What the hell had happened to the Angel, after Dean had left Purgatory? Cass had never been so demanding, using normal human language like that before, and Cass seemed to be a little.....angry. But Dean did as Castiel commanded and went out, looked for the motel sign, then at the number on the door he had just came out of.
When the cool night air hit Dean's face, he took in some deep cleansing breaths, and was able to sober enough to find the name he needed and put the cell phone back to his ear.
"Cass, you dere? T'ere. Shit, shit, shit dammit-all-ta-hell! Cass....!"
"Yes Dean, I am here." Castiel said, trying his best to be patiant with the man, who sounded like he was doing his best to sober up, as quickly as he could find a way to do so. But Sam needed Help. Help that the Angel knew only Dean could give him. And he needed it ASAP. Sam's breathing was labored, and his heart was slowing to almost nothing.
Castiel wanted to scream at the drunken Winchester for being so damned selfabsorbed in his own "pity party" as he had heard the humans say, but that would not get Dean any more sober, any faster. It would only serve to irritate and confuse the man all the more, so he held his tongue and waited for Dean to get oriented enough to get the information he needed.
"Y'u..." Dean cleared his throat, and started again. "You still... d...th'r, ther, Cass? Dean asked the cell phone, trying to get his tongue under control.
"Of course, Dean. Can you tell me where you..."
"At da itt...Lit...Lil...Lit'l Ic...Dic...Dix...Dix'i ru...oom. Shitfuck! Dammitalltahell! roo...m for...fory-too. SHIT!" Dean yelled at himself. "Lit'l...Dix..."
"Little Dixie Motel, room forty-two." Castiel translated. "I have it, Dean. What town and state?"
"Ken... Kenry...nrey, Mass...Masory...?"
"Kearney, Missouri." Castiel finished for him, appearing in front of the drunken, surprised hunter. Cradling an unconscious Sam.
Dean swiftly sobered up at the sight of his little, not-so-little brother. Sam's hair was gone...completely. He almost looked like a cancer patient on a hospice bed. Sunken eyes, face shallow, and he looked like he hadn't eaten in a month. Tears welled up in Dean's eyes, and he let them fall. Macho image not important, at the moment. What had happened to his Sa... No, not his. He didn't deserve to call Sam his. Not anymore. He had driven Sammy away. Away, into the hands of hunters. Hunters he would get answers from before he sliced the life out of them.
"Cass, what happened? Where did you find... How did you find....? Oh God, Sammy. All your hair, all your...you were so proud of....of that..." Dean sniffled and swallowed thickly. He never thought he would miss that chessnut mop, but looking at his brother now, he wanted to let out the torture master, and skin the fucking basterds, that had done this to his..., alive slowly, painfully. "I'm so,so,so sorry Sammy. I didn't mean any of what Garth told..." Dean's throat tightened and he couldn't extract any more words from his mouth. I'm sorry just didn't... couldn't and never would be enough to make this right.
"I don't remember any of what happened, or what I said." Dean choked out through his tightened throat, trying, once again. to explain himself, but the explanation did nothing to justify what he had done. Dean, now, realized what Sam had gone through, being possessed by Meg, Lucifer, and that crazy doctor Elacot. The only difference was, Sam had been conscious for part of what he was forced to do and say, and had to live with the memories every day. Dean had no recollection of anything that had taken place while the Spector had control of him, but he would forever have this visual of Sam, and the knowledge that he was responsable for it. If he hadn't been so angry with his brother over something Sam couldn't control, or do anything about, then Sam wouldn't be unconscious in the arms of an Angel, right now.
As Dean got closer, he could see the lack of Sam's breathing. Panic welled up in Dean's chest, his hands automaticly clenched into fists, on their own valition, his face began to redden, beginning at his neck, working its way up, and panic gave way to furious outrage.
"What the hell's happen to him, Cass? He's not bre...!
"Yes, I know." Castiel cut Dean off, carrying his partially healed patient into room forty-two.
"Well what happen...? Why's he not breathin' right?" Dean asked again, following Castiel into the room.
"I am not sure, but I believe you might get some answers, if you really want them, that is." the Angel answered, placing Sam gently on the bed furthest from the door, and covering his, still, naked body with the bedspread.
"What the hell you talkin' about? Of course I want answers, Cass! Why would you think I wouldn'...."
"Because you might not like them." Castiel explained, turning to face the elder Winchester, a note of irritation in his tone, to which Dean looked confused about. Was the Angel angry at him for some reason, or just angry about what happened to Sam?
"If you know somethin', Cass, you need to tell me right now!" Dean demanded, addamently.
Castiel cocked his head to one side, and narrowed his glairing blue eyes at the hunter. 'I suppose he shall need to know, if he is going to help his brother.' Castiel advised himself. Then reached up and put his hand on Dean's forehead.
Suddenly Dean was standing where Castiel had been, seeing what the Angel had seen. Sam's mutilated, broken, limp body hanging there, in a small dirty basement. his hair, and toes, were missing, and Dean stared wide eyed, shock spreading through him. Sam's junk was gone. Dean ran to his baby brother, tears and snot streaming down his face. "Nonononononono!" escaping urgently from his lips, and he tried to take Sammy in his arms. But his arms passed right through the image. All Dean could do was crumple to the floor, and watch as the Angel carefully removed Sam from his restraints and lay him gently on a mattress. 'That should be me...' Dean thought, as he watched the whole thing unfold before him. 'I should've been here saving.... No this should have never happened!' Dean shook with guilt and anger at what Sam had gone through. His little brother was, now, a eunuch. Because of him.
Dean was forced to follow Castiel through the whole experiance of what the Angel had seen, and heard. First from the hunters upstairs, then through what Castiel heard in Sam's memories.
Dean fell prostraight, hands covering his face, as he cried quietly for the Angel to stop. He couldn't listen to his voice any longer. How could he ever make this up to Sam. How could he have been so cold and crual to the one person he loved more then anyone, and had promised to protect, even with his own life?
Dean knew the two men, but not the girl, and couldn't figure out why any of them would want to do this to Sam. Sam had never told Dean about what happened in Garber, too afraid of what Dean would think. They weren't together, Sam had handled the situation, and he didn't figure there was any point in upsetting their relationship any more then it already was.
Dean couldn't move. He couldn't think. All he could do is watch the images, and listen to the words run through his mind again, and again
"Dean, you have to pull yourself together, so you can help your brother. You are the only one he will listen to." Castiel said, determined to make Dean listen to reason.
Dean finally came out of the catitonic state, when Castiel slapped him hard across the face, getting Dean's fist in his eye for his trouble. Being an Angel, the punch didn't fase Castiel in the slightest. It did, however, get the reaction Castiel was hoping for. It meant Dean was still in there, and not lost. Like Sam was.
Dean spoke up, as he rubbed his left cheekwith his left hand, and held his right fist to his chest. "What the hell you tryin' ta do, Cass? Make me kick your...?"
"I was attempting to bring you back to what is important here." the Angel scolded. "You have broken your brother to the point of not wanting to live. You must find him and persuade him that he is still very important to you. That he is more of a brother to you, then you have led him to believe."
"What'd ya mean I have to find Sam?" Dean asked, assperated, "Sam's right here, Cass. I think your mind got a little scrambled in Purg..."
"Not Sam physically, Dean. I am refering to Sam's soul. You know, the part of him you wanted back from the cage so badly. So you could what? Destroy it?"
Dean looked at Castiel, the way he had looked at his cell phone, when he was talking to the Angel.
'Since when is Cass so sarcastic?' Dean wondered, puzzeled, irritated, and geting a little scared the Angel was about to smite him. 'Go ahead.' Dean thought, 'I deserve that, and an eturnity in hell under the worse torturer they have down there now.'