Princes of the Universe (spn)

Captured

Dean opened his eyes and immediately closed them again, wincing in the sunlight. He glanced around - the worn stone walls glared over him menacingly. A searing pain reminded him of the ropes intertwined with iron that were burning into his wrists. He was tied to a pillar in the centre of a devil's trap. His head was throbbing, and his dazed mind produced only incoherent half formed thoughts.

Dean groaned as his memories of the past day flooded back. He had been captured by angels. He wondered vaguely why he was still alive, but decided not to let that bother him. His stomach rumbled, and he realised that the empty pit in his stomach was not caused by dread alone. He felt his ring digging into his finger, and frowned in confusion.
Dean's heart stopped as he heard the rusty bolts scrape open, and the hinges chafe as they moved past each other. Dean swallowed nervously.

"Ah, Castiel. My favourite angel! Listen, uh, it's been a long day, so how about you let me out of this whole rig, and we can go get pie or something together. My treat."

Castiel did not bother responding to Dean's pathetic facade of confidence. Dean looked up, and saw him standing in the door, the hatred in his eyes burning more fiercely than than the fires of hell. And Dean would know.

"Crap," he muttered, "Well, I'm screwed"

Castiel walked up to him slowly, his eyes raw and his soul bridled.

"How could you -" Castiel demanded, voice cracked in pain.

"How could you kill my sisters and my brothers?"

Dean remained silent, for once.

"How could you kill them?" Castiel repeated, louder, his voice echoing into a thousand broken sobs. Dean's lips parted, as if he were about speak, but Castiel interrupted,
"Don't waste your breath."
Something holding Castiel back snapped, and he punched Dean in the face with all the force of his anger and his grief. Dean grunted in pain, but turned his head back to Castiel.

"I'll admit I probably deserved that"

Castiel wasn't finished. Again, he hit Dean, and again, knocking his face from one side to the other. He paused, breathing heavily, the detest in his eyes contorting his face. Dean spat out a mouthful of blood, and groaned. He tried to duck, to move, but the ropes bound him too tightly. There was no escape.

The rage inside Castiel broke free once again, and he let it loose on Dean. Now Dean's cheekbone dripped with blood, now his eye was bruised crimson, purple and blue. He tried to double over from the powerful kick in the stomach, but the ropes kept him from moving more than a centimetre.

Dean thought he heard a voice outside.

"Castiel?" it called.

Or perhaps he was hallucinating.

But now he heard the scratching of the old metal hinges, and he knew he wasn't dreaming. Balthazar appeared in the doorway. He rushed to the centre of the room.

"Cas, what the hell are you doing?"
Castiel did not even seem to be aware of his presence, and kept hitting dean, over and over, as if he was in some kind of trance. Balthazar grabbed Castiel and dragged him away from Dean, but as soon as he let go, Castiel tried shove past him back to Dean.

Balthazar manages to wrestle Castiel out of the room, closing the door behind him.
When Balthazar returned a few minutes later, he found Dean spitting out more blood.

"I've gotta say, never been more glad to see angel," Dean remarked weakly. Balthazar looked at him in disgust,

"Oh, believe me, if I had it my way you would be dead already. You do know why you're still alive, don't you?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, of course. It's because of the, uh,"

Dean racked his brains to no avail.

"So that you can, uh... alright, I got nothing."
Balthazar raised his eyebrows at Dean.
"Hmm. Interesting,"

Balthazar hesitated

"Well? You gonna let me know why my ass ain't sizzling in hell or are we gonna be waiting here until Sam gets here with my baby?"

Balthazar laughed. "You're a fireman with a candle. You really ought to know the danger,"

He sighed, as if even having to talk to Dean was draining.

"Your precious little candle won't find you. At least you'd better hope so, because we, oh, we are ready for him."

Balthazar turned away and started walking towards the door.

"Hey! Wait! Don't just leave me here!"
Dean groaned as the door closed behind Balthazar.

Suddenly, Dean winced, squeezing his eyes shut as images were seared into his brain. They were vibrant, oversaturated with colours so intense he could hear his heart thumping in his head. The impala - Sam laughing - enochian screeching in an abandoned store - Tuesdays - apple pie - an old trench coat. Dean gasped - whether more from pain or shock he couldn't say - the last vision was of him hugging Castiel, an angel, embracing him like a brother.