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The warehouse smelled of rust and damp stone — a hunter’s cliché nightmare. Dean could’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that he was tied to a chair, wrists lashed to cold iron so tight it bit his skin raw.
He’d woken to pain. Not the usual ache of broken ribs or bruises, but something sharp and hot. The kind that burrowed bone-deep.
An iron rod hissed in the dark, glowing faintly at its tip like a brand pulled from hellfire.
The thing wielding it wasn’t demon, wasn’t angel, wasn’t anything Dean had faced before. Its skin shimmered like tar and glass, its eyes bright as headlights in the dark. When it spoke, the sound rattled Dean’s teeth in his skull.
“You bleed, hunter,” it crooned. “But so does your angel.”
Dean’s gaze snapped to the corner.
Cas was there — bound, but not like Dean. His trench coat was gone, his shirt torn open, and his skin glistened with sweat. Chains of some kind of runed metal dug into his arms. His eyes were dull, no blue grace burning behind them.
Dean’s stomach turned. He’d seen Cas weak before, mortal even, but this was different. He looked like himself, but his shoulders slumped, chest heaving shallow, powerless in a way that made Dean’s throat close.
“What’d you do to him?” Dean rasped.
The creature tilted its head. “Your angel? He’s nothing. Empty. Just flesh, like you. Easier to break.”
It pressed the iron rod to Dean’s collarbone. White pain ripped through him, sizzling nerves to ash. Dean jerked, teeth clamped shut around a scream. The smell of scorched fabric and skin filled the air.
“Dean.”
Cas’s voice cut through the haze. Rough, low. “Don’t be scared.”
Dean’s head whipped toward him, fury blazing through the pain. “Don’t—don’t say that, Cas.”
Cas’s eyes softened. He was trembling, chains clinking as he shifted closer, but his voice steadied. “I’ve done this before. I know how it feels.”
Dean knew he was lying. Cas had never been tied down, powerless, watching someone else take the pain in his place. Or maybe he had — maybe too many times. The thought made Dean’s chest ache worse than the burn.
The rod seared a path along his ribs, dragging out a strangled sound he couldn’t swallow down. His vision blurred, and somewhere in the mess of agony, he felt Cas’s words pulling him back.
“Breathe, Dean. With me. In… out… You’re not alone. Just look at me.”
Dean did. Cas’s face was pale, lips pressed thin, but his eyes burned with a light the creature couldn’t strip away. That anchor held Dean steady even as the iron bit deeper.
“Don’t be scared,” Cas murmured again, quieter this time. “I’ll get you through it.”
Dean wanted to argue, to tell Cas he was the one who needed saving, but the words wouldn’t come. His body shook, sweat pouring down his back, and still Cas kept talking, a mantra in the dark.
When the ugly creature pulled back, satisfied with Dean’s ragged gasps, Cas lunged as far as his chains would allow, like he could shield him with nothing but his voice.
“Dean. Look at me. I’m here.”
And somehow, that made the pain slightly better for Dean.
The warehouse echoed with Dean’s ragged breaths. Sweat rolled down his temple, stinging the blistered skin at his collarbone where the iron rod had branded him. The creature paced slowly, savoring the silence between his cries.
Cas strained against the chains, metal cutting into his wrists. His grace was gone — Dean could see it in his eyes, the absence of light that used to burn there. Powerless. Human. Vulnerable in a way Dean hated.
“Leave him alone,” Cas rasped, voice raw. “I’m the one you want.”
The creature laughed, a horrible grinding sound. “I had you. You are broken already. He is not. Yet.”
The iron rod hissed again, and Dean braced. He tried to swallow down the fear clawing up his throat, but it was hard to ignore when his body jerked at every spark of heat.
The sear came across his side, tearing a cry from him before he could bite it back. His ribs screamed. He could smell himself burning.
“Dean.” Cas’s voice again, urgent, pulling him through the fog. “Listen to me. Don’t be scared.”
Dean choked on a laugh that was closer to a sob. “Kinda late for that, Cas.”
Cas leaned forward as far as the chains allowed, desperation in every line of him. “I’ve done this before. I know the pain. You can endure it. Just… look at me. Stay with me.”
Dean forced his gaze up. Cas’s face was pale, sweat dripping down his jaw, but his eyes locked on Dean’s like a lifeline. And somehow, that tether kept Dean from drowning in the fire tearing through his nerves.
The creature shoved the rod harder, earning another hoarse shout. Cas snarled, the sound ripping from his throat like an animal’s, and yanked hard at the chains. They didn’t give, but the fury in his eyes was enough to make Dean’s chest tighten.
“Take me,” Cas begged, voice cracking. “Do whatever you want, just let him go.”
The creature tilted its head, amused. “But he breaks so beautifully. And you—” It jabbed a clawed finger toward Cas. “You are useless now. Not angel, not human. Powerless.”
Dean spat blood to the floor, glaring. “He’s not useless. You don’t know a damn thing.”
The rod pressed to his thigh this time. Agony lanced through muscle, locking every nerve. Dean screamed, the sound raw, ripped out of him before he could stop it. He sagged in the chair, chest heaving, fighting to stay upright.
“Dean.” Cas’s voice again, softer this time, almost breaking. “Stay with me. Please. In and out, remember? Just… breathe.”
Dean’s head lolled toward him, vision tunneling, but Cas’s face was still there, holding him together. “Cas…” he whispered, the name little more than a breath.
“I’m here.” Cas’s eyes burned with something fierce and unyielding. “You’re not alone.”
The creature raised the rod again, but before it could strike, a thunder of boots echoed down the hall. A gunshot cracked, then another, and Sam’s voice rang out:
“Dean!”
The creature hissed, recoiling. Sam barreled into the room, shotgun blazing with iron rounds. The monster shrieked, half-corporeal form dissolving into smoke and shards of light. It vanished in an instant, leaving the stench of ash behind.
Sam rushed to Dean, cutting his restraints. Dean sagged forward into his brother’s arms, half-conscious, skin blistered and scorched.
“Got you,” Sam murmured. “I’ve got you, man.”
Dean’s head lolled, eyes fluttering open just enough to land on Cas. “He… needs help…”
Cas’s chains clattered to the floor as Sam broke them. The angel-turned-human stumbled forward, immediately dropping to Dean’s side. His hands hovered, trembling, over the burns.
“I can’t heal you,” Cas whispered, anguish clear in every word. “I can’t—”
Dean coughed, forcing a weak grin through bloodied lips. “S’fine. Just… stay.”
Cas’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Always.”
Sam hauled them both up, Dean half-carried between them. The three of them stumbled out of the warehouse together, battered but alive.
And through the haze of pain, Dean heard Cas’s voice one last time, low and steady against his ear:
“Don’t be scared. I'm here. I love you.”
Dean almost smiled. Because for the first time in that hellish night, he believed him.