Chapter Text
Castiel woke up to a sense of wetness on his face. The rest of his senses were muffled, distant, as if in a fog. Then he felt the wetness again. And again. Sheer annoyance drove his eyes open. Two red orbs stared at him, blinking slowly. He felt hot breath on his face. Then a black tongue swept over his cheek.
Castiel groaned and tilted his head to avoid the next sweep of the unpleasant wetness. The movement brought the onslaught of a sharp pain that left him gasping for breath. The pain however woke him up further and his eyes focused somewhat. He was nose to nose with the giant head of a hellhound.
“Castiel”, the hound said to him, silently. Angels and animals can communicate without speaking, and that extends to the hellhound. “Do you recognize me?”
Castiel’s consciousness had not completely returned, but even in that hazy state, Castiel recognized those red eyes. “Juliet”. He tried for a warm greeting, but the only thing that came out was a broken-up whisper. The effort brought another wave of blinding pain, but with it, further clarity of his senses. He looked down. He was half lying, half sitting against the corner of a concrete wall. Underneath him was a pool of blood, dark and half congealed, yet still spreading outward in sluggish streams that traced the indentations in the cement floor. Following the source of pain he lifted his coat and suit and saw that his shirt was soaked in blood. On his left side wisps of silvery grace were drifting out from a jagged wound that was still slowly bleeding.
Instinctively, Castiel tried for his grace to heal himself. He came up empty. The waves of pain kept coming without respite, and he felt its source—something in his wound that didn’t belong. That was trying to kill him. That was preventing his grace from regenerating.
Overwhelmed by the pain, he started losing consciousness again. But it was brief this time. He was roused again with a nudge at his jaw. Juliet the hellhound was rubbing her forehead against Castiel’s lolling head. Castiel moaned again and opened his eyes. Juliet slinked closer, plopped down next to him, pressing firmly into his slumping body. It was a surprisingly soft surface to lean on, compared to the hard wall.
“Castiel,” Juliet implored again. “What’s wrong with you?” She gave Castiel’s face another slurp of her black tongue.
Castiel felt the need to answer. He searched for the answer. It all started to come back.