Outside Alastair's Torture Chamber

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel had gone on record as being against this plan. In retrospect, he feels that was probably a miscalculation on his part.

Zachariah had merely blinked at him for a moment or two before remarking quietly, “I do sometimes wonder, Castiel, where exactly it is your loyalties lie.”

And just like that, Uriel was put in the lead for this particular mission.

His brother had attempted to be sympathetic. In Uriel’s own unique way.

“You grow too attached to them, Castiel. The humans. Do not forget their place. Or yours.”

And Uriel and Zachariah didn’t even know about Meg. Or Milliways. Or Anna. Or…

Dean.

Castiel stands back a bit, letting Dean look in on Alastair through the dirty square of window in the door. While Uriel might be calling the orders on this mission, he’s more than willing to let Castiel handle this part. Attempting to make Dean understand. To make him see why what they were asking of him was necessary and important. Angels were being slaughtered, and Heaven couldn’t take those losses. Not with what was at stake.

Castiel waits for another heartbeat, and then steps up behind Dean.

“This devil’s trap is old Enochian. He’s bound completely.”

You’ll be safe.

Comments

[thursdays_angel]

Even though he doesn't turn around, Castiel can practically feel Uriel smirk with amusement.

It's not helping.

"I did not say that it's good. I said it is necessary."

Castiel finally takes a short step closer to Dean.

"You may think of it as retribution if you wish."

Whatever gets the job done.

And, preferably, whatever gets the job done soon.

[hopeitsworthit]

"If I wish?"

Yeah, right.

Dean doesn't snort, and he doesn't punch the goddamn door that's the only thing separating himself from -- well, himself, right now.

"Pretty sure the only ones gettin' their wishes today are you, your jackass handler, and -- "

He cuts himself off ruthlessly, though his gaze is drawn back to the window.

Yeah.

Yeah, Alistair's gonna be gettin' a kick out of this.

Dean is, too, though. And that's the goddamn worst part.

"It ain't gonna be me, I can tell you that much."

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel does not grit his teeth. As much as Dean does not want to begin this task, Castiel just wishes it was done already.

"I would not ask this of you if there was any other way."

Behind him, he hears what, to another angel's ears, would sound like a distinctly impatient ruffling of feathers.

"We don't have time for this," Uriel says. "Stop feeding his weakness, Castiel."

Castiel winces.

Of course, that will go over well.

[hopeitsworthit]

Weakness? Dean doesn't say. Oh angel-baby, you've got no damn idea.

He just clenches his hands, holding them like that until he can feel his tendons ache.

Douchebag.

"I'll tell you this," he says instead, turning away from the window.

His expression is set, even as he paces several steps away, back firmly turned to what's shortly gonna become a room of horror.

"I go through that door and I can guarantee you're not gonna like what comes back out."

Considering that most of that's already here --

"You sure you're prepared to deal with that? Because I ain't."

Except for how much he wants it. And God, but he wants it.

He can practically taste the blood.

[thursdays_angel]

To hell (if his Father will pardon the expression) with keeping distance.

Castiel walks up to Dean, standing in front of him, edging into his personal space. A bid to both try to get Dean to listen and to keep Uriel on the periphery.

As futile as both of those attempts might be.

"I've dealt with it once before," Castiel points out.

Lest Dean has forgotten. If this results in another rehabilitative stint in Milliways? Well, he can arrange that.

In the meantime, they needed answers.

Castiel is aware of Uriel stepping a bit closer as well.

"Angels are dying, boy," he says, shortly. "Do your job."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Maybe we'll get lucky and you'll be next."

He doesn't think before saying it, just lashes out with words the way he really fucking yearns to with his hands.

Shit.

"Cas. Dude, that was chump change compared to this. I swear."

Because considering how hard it was coming back the first time, considering how hard it still is, every goddamn day --

This time he's not gonna want to come back. He can tell already.

And Sam ain't even here to say goodbye.

[thursdays_angel]

The sentiment elicits laughter from Uriel.

"Heaven help us, I'm starting to like this one," the angel says.

Castiel casts an impatient glance over at his brother before turning back to Dean.

"I know this is too much to ask," he says. "But we have to ask it."

"This is not like before. You are doing this for a righteous cause. And you are not alone."

He might not find Castiel to be great company, but he's not going anywhere.

"When you've gotten the information, you can go back to Sam. I'll make sure of it."

He'll deliver Dean to the motel doorstep himself.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean shakes his head.

"You say that like any of it is gonna matter."

He's warned them.

Not that it's made a damn lick of difference.

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel squares his shoulders.

"It will have to matter enough."

There is not calling 'abort' on this mission.

They have orders.

[hopeitsworthit]

"No, it really won't."

He takes a deep breath, exhaling long and slow to try to drain some of the tension from his shoulders.

Tells're gonna get him in trouble here.

And once he loses 'em --

Well, it's gonna stop lookin' like an interrogation real damn fast.

"All right."

It's almost a relief to know that he really doesn't have a choice. Lip service is a bitch.

But then, so's Dean.

"Lemme get a look at your idea of toys."

After all, he learned from the best.