So, in doing some housekeeping on my computer, I found a few Supernatural things that I plan on finishing up and publishing. While I don't see myself writing too many new Supernatural things, I do want to finish things that I already started, such as this piece. That said, I hope you enjoy!

Title is from Fall Out Boy's "Just One Yesterday."

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Castiel should have known the warehouse was a trap. The omens had seemed demonic in origin, but there had been something strange about them that both he and the Winchesters had noticed. That was why he had gone ahead to scout things out while Sam and Dean had been on the way over in the Impala. And Castiel was immensely glad that he had done so, considering what was waiting for him in the warehouse.

"Castiel, Castiel, Castiel. What shall I do with you?" Zachariah sighed, twirling his angel blade in his hands. Castiel glared at him from where he was being held by three other angels. They had shoved him down onto his knees. Castiel had put up a fight, but four against one hadn't been even remotely fair odds. Castiel was battered and bruised, but he would not give up so easily.

"If you think I will betray the Winchesters to you, you are wrong," Castiel growled. Zachariah adopted a shocked look.

"Now why would I think something like that?" he demanded. Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Honestly, Castiel? The Winchesters aren't why I'm here. I'm here because a certain soldier of Heaven needs to be put back in his place."

"Until you stop trying to put the Apocalypse into motion, I will not rejoin Heaven," Castiel spat. Zachariah grinned.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd say that." Without warning, the three angels that were pinning Castiel yanked him to his feet and shoved him against a wall. Zachariah nodded slightly and two of the angels grabbed Castiel's arms, stretching them out and turning the palms outwards. Zachariah twirled his angel blade once more in his hand, then he stabbed it into Castiel's left palm. The pain rocketed through Castiel's body, but he refused to allow Zachariah the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

"Stoic, aren't you?" Zachariah asked rhetorically. "Don't worry. I'll drag a scream out of you sooner or later." Zachariah held out a hand to one of the other angels. Castiel recognized him as Ansiel, the constrainer. He placed his blade in Zachariah's hand. Zachariah drove that one into Castiel's right palm. Again, Castiel managed to keep himself from making any noise at all.

"You're a sad pantomime of Christ, Castiel," Zachariah mused.

"During a crucifixion, the nails are driven through the wrists, not the hands," Castiel spat back. "You should know that." Zachariah punched Castiel in the face in response. The punch jerked Castiel's head backwards and it collided with the wall behind him with a sickening crack. For a split second, Castiel's vision went double, then his Grace healed whatever damage had been done.

"On your knees," Zachariah commanded. Castiel glared defiantly. "On your knees!" Zachariah repeated angrily. Two of the angels shoved Castiel down. He couldn't move his hands without intense pain, but he didn't have a choice. "That's better," Zachariah gloated smugly once Castiel was in a position as close to kneeling as he could get without ripping his hands open completely. "This should be fun."

Before Castiel had a chance to ask Zachariah exactly what he meant, Zachariah shoved his hand into Castiel's chest. He grabbed something and tugged, and Castiel felt an intense, ripping pain in his back. He leaned forward as much as he could, which wasn't much, and pressed his lips together firmly to keep any sound from escaping. He knew what was happening. Zachariah was reaching for his wings and trying to pull them out.

"This is sacrilege, Zachariah," Castiel ground out. Zachariah smiled coldly.

"Once you rebel, you don't have the right to call anything sacrilege anymore," he retorted, yanking hard on Castiel's wings. A burgeoning scream died in Castiel's throat. He would not give Zachariah the satisfaction.

"I'll get your wings out, little Castiel," Zachariah growled. "And then I'll-"

The ringing of Castiel's cell phone cut Zachariah off mid-sentence. Castiel felt himself go cold. It had to be Sam or Dean; they were the only ones that knew his number. Sure enough, when Zachariah flipped the phone open and turned it on speaker, it was Dean's voice that filled the warehouse.

"Cas? Something wrong, man? It's been almost fifteen minutes. You said you were just going to do a quick sweep. Doesn't that take you like five seconds?"

"Castiel can't come to the phone right now," Zachariah told Dean pleasantly.

"What the hell have you done to him, you bastard?" Dean demanded instantly, his voice furious. Zachariah laughed.

"Say hello, Castiel!" he told Castiel cheerily, holding the phone out.

"Dean, stay away," Castiel said quickly. "Don't come to the town. Don't-" Castiel's sentence abruptly cut off when Ansiel pressed his forearm into Castiel's throat, cutting off his air supply.

"What the hell are you doing to him, you son of a bitch?" Dean yelled. Zachariah chuckled.

"Such language, Mr. Winchester. You are aware that you're speaking to an angel of the Lord, correct?"

"I'm speaking to a douchebag," Dean spat back. "Let Cas go now."

"I don't think so," Zachariah replied in a leisurely tone. "I think it would be much more fun to make you listen to him scream." Zachariah nodded at one of the angels. It was Eae, an angel that normally concerned herself with demons. Castiel supposed he had fallen so far from Heaven that they were sending an angel who fought demons against him. Eae drove her fist into Castiel's gut. The pain from the punch was incredible, given the force behind it, and it also forced Castiel into moving, tearing at his already-ruined hands. Still, Castiel didn't let any sound escape him.

"Cas, what are they doing to you?" Dean demanded, sounding worried.

"I'll be fine, Dean," Castiel gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Leave me and go!"

"Somehow I doubt Dean will do that, Castiel," Zachariah mused. "His loss, really. Now, are you going to be a good angel and scream?" The other angel (Rogziel, an angel of punishment; Castiel steeled himself for the intense pain that was sure to come from an angel created to punish others) clasped his hands together and used his fist to hammer Castiel's kneecap, shattering the bone instantly. Castiel sucked in a sharp breath, but he refused to make any noise other than that.

"Castiel is very good at dealing with pain, did you know?" Zachariah told Dean conversationally. "You can pin him to the wall by his hands and then break his knee, and he barely makes a sound."

"You asshole!" Dean shouted. "Stop torturing him! He's your brother!"

"Castiel is a traitor to Heaven," Zachariah replied in a fake-regretful tone. "I have no choice but to do this." With another nod, Rogziel broke Castiel's other kneecap. Castiel bit down hard on his lip to keep from making a sound. He tasted blood. Now unable to use his legs to support him at all, he dangled from the blades in his hands. Zachariah sighed as he looked at him.

"You just won't scream, will you? Pride is a sin, Castiel."

"Go to hell," Castiel spat. Zachariah's response was a punch to Castiel's gut that was so hard it snapped out of his ribs loudly.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded. Apparently, he had been able to hear it over the phone. "Cas! Cas, are you okay?"

"Hang up the phone and drive away," Castiel commanded. His voice was weaker than he wanted it to be. Zachariah punched him in the face again. This time, his Grace didn't repair the damage when his head slammed into the wall. Blackness crept into the corners of Castiel's vision. He blinked repeatedly to refocus his eyesight.

"Cas! Goddamn it, Zachariah, you son of a bitch! When I get my hands on you, you're gonna be really frigging sorry!"

"Threats? Well, that doesn't go over well," Zachariah told Dean in a dangerous voice. He handed the cell phone over to Eae, who held it out. "Castiel, shall we continue where we left off?"

"What does he mean, Cas?" Dean demanded. Castiel ignored him.

"Do what you will to me. Just leave Sam and Dean out of this," he ordered. Zachariah raised an eyebrow.

"You're really not in any position to make demands, Castiel," he replied. Then his hand delved into Castiel's chest again and he began to tease out Castiel's wings. The pain was overwhelming. Castiel was vaguely aware of Dean's voice in the background, but he couldn't make out any words. Zachariah wasn't being gentle with Castiel's wings, and showing them was a painful processes even when great care was taken. Castiel could feel bones snapping as the wings were twisted into positions they never should have been in. He still fought the urge to scream, unwilling to give in.

Finally, with one last blinding flash of pain, Zachariah dragged Castiel's wings into existence. They were huge, black, and utterly broken. With a feral smile, Zachariah ran a hand down one of them. Castiel tried to squirm away, still not making any noise. The pain was indescribable.

"Dean," Zachariah said loudly. "I've got something for you to pick up." Rogziel and Ansiel both pulled the angel blades out of Castiel's hands in unison. Castiel crumpled to the ground. With a smile that promised nothing good, Zachariah flew off, taking the other angels with him. Castiel's cell phone clattered to the ground.

"Cas! Cas, goddamn it, are you okay?" Dean was still yelling. It took Castiel a moment to formulate a response.

"I am…injured," he told Dean slowly. Red blood and pale blue Grace were streaming out of the holes in his hands. "Zachariah…it was a trap. He was waiting for me. He's gone now."

"Sam and I will be there in two minutes," Dean replied. "What did Zachariah do to you?"

"I…" Castiel's head was swimming. "Dean, I'm losing blood faster than I think is healthy."

"Stay with me, Cas," Dean responded immediately. "I'm almost there. Give me a minute."

Castiel looked at his wings, which were hanging limply from his back. He couldn't retract them, he knew that much. Having them in corporeal form was bad, but there wasn't another option.

"Cas! Cas, Sam and I are pulling up to the warehouse. We're right outside. We'll be there in a second. You still with me?"

"I am conscious, yes," Castiel mumbled.

"Good. Good. Hold on, buddy," Dean told him urgently. Castiel could hear the rumbling of the Impala's engine outside the doors of the warehouse. It cut off abruptly. A few seconds later, Sam and Dean burst through the doors.

"Cas!" Dean cried out, stuffing his phone in his pocket. He stopped abruptly when he noticed Castiel's wings. "Cas, what the hell?"

"Zachariah forced my wings to manifest," Castiel told Dean. His words were slightly slurred. "They're not in good shape." Dean looked stunned. Castiel felt a wave of nausea and weakness rush over him. "I need help," he mumbled. And with that, he quite unceremoniously fainted.

Castiel awoke on the couch in Bobby's house, his wings spread out on either side. "'Bout time you woke up, Feathers," Bobby's voice said from somewhere to his right.

"You okay, Cas?" Sam's face came into Castiel's view. "Dean and I did what we could, but then your Grace started to appear and take care of stuff itself."

"You are not allowed to ever get within a hundred feet of Zachariah ever again," Dean stated flatly as Castiel pushed himself into an upright position. Dean's face held a barely disguised fury. "That bastard is never going to touch you again."

"I…I thank you all for what you have done," Castiel stated, looking over his body. He was sore, but all of his wounds were healed. "I believe I am well enough to leave."

Quickly, Dean's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. "You're not going anywhere," he stated firmly. "You're going to eat, rest, and recharge. And don't give me any shit about angels not having to do that; you just slept for almost fifteen hours straight. You need rest."

"…Very well," Castiel acquiesced after a moment. There was no use in arguing with Dean, after all. Almost immediately, a burger was shoved at him, with a side of fries.

"I picked up lunch about an hour ago," Sam admitted as Castiel stared down at the food in his lap. "You like burgers, right?"

"I… Yes, I do. Thank you, Sam." The food did smell appetizing, and Castiel could use anything possible to help him "recharge," as Dean put it. He ate the burger without complaining.

"Alright. Now, I'm introducing you to Doctor Sexy," Dean stated firmly. Castiel frowned in confusion. Sam groaned.

"Really, Dean? Doctor Sexy?"

"Someone has to educate Castiel in pop culture," Dean retorted. Sam sighed.

"Cas, I'm sorry," he told him solemnly. Castiel looked from Dean, who had a vaguely triumphant expression, to Sam, who looked both amused and exasperated, to Bobby, who looked entirely done with the Winchesters' antics.

"I…I would not mind watching this show," Castiel tried tentatively. Sam groaned loudly, Bobby wheeled out of the room, and Dean punched the air excitedly. He looked like he had just won a million dollars.

"I knew you were awesome, Cas," he said, plopping down on the couch next to Castiel. "We'll start in season one, so you won't be lost."

As Dean got the show ready while Sam groaned, louder and louder each time, Castiel couldn't help but allow a shy smile to spread across his face.

He was home.