Okay guys, here is the final part with the h/c you were all waiting for :)

Part Two

Dean was already throwing their stuff into the Impala the instant Ketch called them back and Castiel helped as he listened to Sam taking down the location.

"And you're sure this is the only place?" Sam asked.

"The most likely," Ketch said over the phone. "I'll text you a couple other locations I found in case that one isn't the one. Good luck finding whoever's obviously been kidnapped."

Sam rolled his eyes and ended the call, handing the paper he had written on to Dean.

"How far is it?" Castiel asked, glancing over the hunter's shoulder.

"Few hours from here, I think," Dean said, getting into the car and putting the keys in the ignition. Castiel quickly slipped into the backseat, leaning forward to glance over Sam's shoulder as he pulled up the location on his tablet.

"It's in the middle of the woods?" he asked.

"Ketch said that one of the guys, Jerry Conners, owned an old hunting cabin up there. He'd heard them mention it before."

"I still don't understand why they would take Jack," Castiel growled.

"Best guess? They're probably trying to sell him to the British," Dean growled. "And thanks to these sons of bitches joining on with their merry little band, they got special weapons that were able to subdue a nephillim."

Castiel felt fury wash through him again at the image burned into his memory from the video of those men taking Jack down so swiftly. Perhaps they had used heavy-duty sigiled cuffs that could contain even a nephillim's power. He knew Jack had said Michael had cut his power off with warding in the apocalypse world, so it was possible.

"If they've hurt him…" he started, but stopped. There was no need to finish that thought. Sam and Dean were of the same mind. Sam's jaw tightened and Dean's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. Castiel didn't think they would be taking any prisoners.

Dean drove swiftly, their trip silent apart from Sam's periodic directions as he was looking at the map. Thankfully it was nighttime so there weren't a lot of other cars on the road and they made the trip in just over two hours.

Dean cursed as they drove up the dark forest trail to the cabin. He'd had to cut the headlights so they wouldn't be seen coming but it was too dark to see anything else either.

"We're just gonna have to walk the rest of the way," Dean said as he cut the engine and got out of the car, going around to open the truck.

Sam and Castiel met him there and Dean handed out weapons. Castiel simply pulled his blade from his coat, gripping it tightly.

"They may have already heard us pull in," Sam cautioned.

"We're not going to go in shooting because we don't know where Jack is," Dean said. "But we're pretty sure there are at least three men and I don't think we should let them walk out of here."

Sam and Castiel nodded in silent agreement. Dean cocked his gun and held it at his side. "Let's go."

Jack drifted in a drug-induced panic, only half conscious but constantly feeling like he was suffocating. He had long since stopped struggling, too tired and weak to bother. He simply succumbed to the tears that had threatened for a long time, letting them slip down his cheeks. The ropes that bound him cut into his flesh and cut off the circulation to his hands and feet just like the sigiled manacles cut off his grace. He had no idea what would happen next, or if he'd ever see the light of day again. And then he couldn't stop thinking about what the men had said. That he would be sent to the British Men of Letters and they would cut him apart to see how he worked. Jack sobbed again at that thought. They would ship him out of the country and away from his family. He'd probably never see them again.

In the apocalypse world, he'd at least had a cause to focus on, a purpose. He'd been helping people. It had made the wait for rescue easier to endure. But this…there was nothing that would make this easier and he would be alone.

He was shocked out of his despair by the rise of voices. Clay seemed upset, and Jack struggled to focus on what they were saying.

"How the hell should I know?" Jerry was demanding. "No one should know where we are. It's probably just someone lost on the road!"

"Well, whatever it is, they need to get gone," Clay snapped. "And we need to hide our merchandise in case they come up here. The last thing we need is for them to think we're kidnappers and call the police."

Jack's ears perked up. Was someone else out there? Was it Sam and Dean and Castiel? He let out a muffled sound through his gag, kicking at the box again, and someone kicked the box back from the outside.

"Shut up if you know what's good for you!" Sean's voice snarled.

Jack, in a sudden burst of defiance, kicked harder and the box was suddenly picked up and hauled several feet before being dropped heavily on the ground. Jack screamed past his gag and banged on the box hoping to get the attention of whoever may be out there.

"Oh, that's it," Clay snapped and the box was suddenly tipped over onto its top.

Jack yelped past his gag, hitting what was now the floor of the box. But then he realized that it was pitch dark, not even the small pinpricks of light from the breathing holes they had put into it. Those were all covered now because they had been in the top.

New panic settled into Jack and he struggled harder, before that made it harder to breathe. The already stuffy box got even more suffocating and he lay panting, swallowing past his gag, more tears streaming from his eyes. Was rescue this close only for him to suffocate?

He vaguely heard more shouting from his captors and then the sound of a door splintering open. He choked on a sob and couldn't get his breath, gasping in the close, pitch-black space. He felt all his senses muddling as more screams and a couple gunshots rang out.

Had he been rescued just to die anyway? he wondered as he slipped unwillingly into darkness that was even more palpable than what surrounded him in this box.

When they approached the cabin and heard the loud voices inside, Sam was pretty sure their arrival hadn't gone undetected as he had hoped.

But it didn't matter. They still had the element of surprise while these men scrambled to do whatever they were doing.

He glanced over at Dean and Cas who both met his gaze with a sharp nod. Cas stepped forward and kicked the door in, splintering it right off its hinges. Sam and Dean surged in right after him as the men shouted in shock.

They scrambled for guns or whatever weapons they could find but Cas had already grabbed one of them, slamming him against the wall with his blade pointed at the man's throat.

"Where is the boy?" he demanded.

The man choked out. "I don't know what you mean!"

"Don't play with me!" Cas snapped, his eyes flashing. The man looked like he was about ready to piss himself and the others hovered at one side as Sam and Dean watched them warily, their own guns held ready. "The nephillim! We know you took him. Where is he?"

One of the other men, a mean-looking, dark haired one, suddenly lunged forward with a gun in his hand, right at Dean.

But Dean got his own gun up and got a shot off before the man could even aim, and he collapsed with a gasp, his gun going off at the floor, leaving a bullet hole blown into the old wood.

That started an all out brawl. The man Cas had cornered shoved the angel backwards and grabbed a gun from the back of his belt. But Cas grappled with him, causing the hunter's gun to skid away.

Sam glanced around and noticed another door off to one side. "Dean," he called, motioning in that direction.

"We're good, Sam," his brother said, dodging a swipe with a knife. "Go find Jack!"

Sam hurried into the room, which had no light and nearly tripped over a large metal box sitting in the middle of the floor.

Sam groped around and found a lantern that had been hanging on the wall and turned it on. The metal box was the only thing in there and he suddenly had a horrible feeling in his stomach as to what its purpose was.

Sam leapt into action as Dean and Cas continued the fight in the other room. He looked the box over frantically for an opening and he finally saw that the hinge and the lid were on the bottom of the box. His heart hammered in his chest as he shoved it over the right way up.

"Oh god," he whispered as he saw holes punched into the top. He felt so sick he thought he was going to throw up. There was a padlock and he stood swiftly to simply shoot it. He wrenched the broken lock off the box and then threw the lid open.

Jack was smashed into the small space, contorted into a forced fetal position, and bound and gagged. His eyes were closed and he didn't look like he was breathing.

"Oh god, Jack!" Sam cried, reaching into the tight space and lifting Jack out with trembling hands. Another gunshot rang out in the other room, and the wet gurgle of something getting stabbed in the throat accompanied it.

Sam pulled Jack out completely and cradled him against his chest, holding him tight for a long second in relief. "It's okay, it's okay, you're safe," he murmured to the nephillim, brushing his hair back as his eyes roved over Jack's body, seeing what damage had been done. "Guys!" he shouted frantically.

He lowered the boy into the crook of one arm and pried the gag from Jack's mouth. It was so tight it had cut into his cheeks, causing the corners of his mouth to bleed and he was disgusted to find that in addition to that, they'd also stuffed another cloth into Jack's mouth, practically suffocating him. Sam gently fished it out just as Dean and Cas hurried into the room.

"Jack!" Cas cried, distress clear in his expression as he crouched beside Sam.

Dean glanced between the unconscious nephillim to the crate and his face turned a sickly pallor. "Did they…?"

"Yeah, they did," Sam ground out.

"Those sons of bitches!" Dean snarled, kicking the crate for good measure.

"Well, they can't hurt him now," Cas said firmly and bent to study the cuffs that bound Jack's wrists as Dean pulled a knife from his pocket to cut the ropes free.

Sam had his fingers pressed to Jack's throat to check his pulse, which was weak and slow. He peeled up an eyelid and saw the pupil dilated. That and the multiple needle marks in his neck made Sam figure they had drugged Jack.

The ropes bit into Jack's flesh and Cas gently extricated the ones around his torso as Dean worked on the ones around his legs. Sam held him steady the entire time and when they had got him out of the ropes, Cas left briefly and came back with a key to the cuffs.

"These would have bound his powers," the angel said grimly. "Hopefully once we get them off he'll be able to start healing."

Cas unlocked the cuffs and wrenched them apart. As soon as they snapped open, Jack's body went rigid and his eyes flew open, briefly glowing gold. He gasped and flailed.

"Let me go!" he cried, fighting as Sam and Cas both reached out for him, trying to keep him from hurting himself as he failed weakly.

"Jack, Jack, it's okay, you're safe. It's us!" Sam coaxed gently, stroking Jack's hair back from his face.

Jack blinked, looked between the three of them groggily and then tears slid down his face and Sam couldn't help but pull him into his arms, holding him tightly. Jack sobbed against Sam's shoulder, fingers clutching weakly at his shirt.

"I knew you'd come for me," he sniffed. "I knew it."

"You bet, kid," Dean said.

Cas was already shrugging out of his coat and when Jack finally pulled away from Sam, he helped him into it.

"We need to get him out of here," the angel said, taking Jack firmly by the arms and pulling him to his feet. "Can you walk, Jack?"

Jack staggered, probably still weak, or maybe his legs were asleep from being in such a cramped place, but Sam hurriedly got to his own feet and helped support Jack from the other side. Dean grabbed the cuffs and stashed them in his coat. They didn't want those to get into any unwanted hands.

"Wait," Jack said, stopping their slow procession out of the cabin.

"What is it, Jack?" Sam asked.

Jack looked up at him with pained eyes. "They…they took some of my grace. Is it…still here?"

Cas let out a sharp breath and glanced between Sam and Dean. "We'll find it."

"You guys get Jack to the car, I'll look around here," Dean said.

Sam was furious at Jack's admission to what they had done to him. No wonder he looked so wrung out. But he tried to hide his anger so as not to upset the nephillim further. They had found him, the men weren't going to hurt him or anyone else ever again. Now they could just work on getting Jack home and healed up.

They took him out to the Impala and Cas supported Jack while Sam hurried to grab blankets and a clean shirt from the back. Cas eased Jack into the back seat where Jack slumped in exhaustion. Sam noticed for the first time his feet were bare and the bottoms of them were bloody.

"What happened?" he asked, crouching down to inspect them.

"I—I tried to run. But they caught me again," Jack said in defeat.

"Well, you're safe now," Cas told him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder as Sam went to grab the first aid kit. Not only were Jack's feet raw, but his wrists were chafed to bleeding from those cuffs and there were a few bruises on his side and his face that were still in the process of healing. Sam frowned at this, used to Jack healing quickly, and hardly ever being effected by something like bruises.

He helped Jack into a warm shirt while Cas arranged the blankets in the backseat, and wrapped one around Jack's shoulders just as Dean came down the path, carrying a box.

Sam and Cas stood instantly as they saw his grim and furious face and they joined him as Dean set the box down on the trunk of the car.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

Dean lifted the lid and a glow emanated from within. Sam's breath caught in his throat as he saw a large vial of grace packed away inside. Cas reached down to pick it up.

"At least you found it. This should help in his recovery."

"That's not all," Dean said, pointing his flashlight into the box as Sam and Cas leaned closer. Bile rose in Sam's throat as everything just got worse. There were a slew of small bottles, each one looking like it held blood, and the rest of the box was filled with bundles of tawny, speckled feathers.

"Are those…" he asked, swallowing hard. He didn't even want to voice it.

"Yes," Cas growled, reaching down to touch one of the bundles and shaking his head in disgust.

"I wish we hadn't killed them so quickly," Dean muttered darkly under his breath.

Sam pushed the thoughts aside, and shook his head, closing the lid. "We have his grace, we got Jack back safe, let's just take care of him right now. That's what he needs."

Dean nodded and opened the trunk to put the horrible box inside. "Exactly. I say we stop at a motel. It's still a long drive back to Lebanon."

Sam nodded in agreement and they got into the car. Cas slid into the back where Jack was huddled against the window, wrapped in blankets. He looked lost and shaken and it tore Sam apart to see him like this. The apocalypse world hadn't broken him, even though he'd been distant since they got back, but this pure human cruelty that he had just suffered seemed to have finally broken the nephillim. Sam hoped they could get him back on his feet.

Jack closed his eyes, just listening to the lulling hum of the Impala and the low conversation between the others as they drove, reminding himself that he was safe. He felt sick and tired and he was hurting. He wanted to be in his bed, but he didn't know how far back to the bunker it was. He didn't know how far he had been taken from the town they had been hunting in before this had all happened. He didn't even know how long he had been gone. He thought it might have been two days at most, maybe not even that long, but it felt like weeks. Just being in that dark, suffocating, cramped box had seemed like an eternity.

His back hurt the worse, probably because of his wings, and he whimpered every time the car hit a bump. Castiel looked over at him with concern on the second or third time and then reached over to pull him closer. Jack eventually ended up with his head in the angel's lap, Cas' fingers carding through his hair. The soothing gesture lulled him into a doze and Jack drifted off.

He woke next as someone rubbed his shoulder gently and he looked up to see Castiel's concerned eyes staring down at him.

"Jack, we've stopped so you can get some proper rest," he said.

Jack made an effort to get into an upright position but it was too hard. Cas had to help him and kept a studying arm around him as they got out of the car. Sam and Dean had all their bags and led the way to the room.

This place looked cleaner than the motels they usually stayed at. There was an actual lobby and an elevator they had to get into and Jack wondered if they had picked something nicer on purpose or if it had been the only place available. Either way, when they got to the room, the clean beds with fluffy duvets on them looked very inviting.

Sam smiled at him as he set the bags he was carrying on one of the beds. "Jack, would you like a bath to get cleaned up a little?"

Jack realized that he must be pretty filthy from the treatment and his run through the woods and nodded gratefully. Sam gently took his arm and led him to the bathroom.

He had to help Jack out of his clothes and into the tub, which was rather small, but the warm water felt extremely good on his muscles, which had been knotted up from the cramped box.

Jack shuddered suddenly just at the thought of it and Sam watched him worriedly.

"Jack?" he said.

Jack took a shuddering breath. "I—I'm okay."

Sam reached over to the counter and grabbed a tiny shampoo bottle and started to wash Jack's hair. "It's okay, you know," he said after a few minutes. "If you're not okay. No one's expecting you to be."

Jack shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He was still new to figuring out, well, everything. Emotions were hard. He'd gotten a little better, but they still felt foreign and unwelcome most of the time. They made him confused and hurt.

"I know that it hasn't been easy coming back here after what you went through in the other universe," Sam continued. "It hasn't been easy for the rest of us either. But everything does get better eventually. Or, at least you're usually able to find new reasons to keep going."

Jack swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "I just…sometimes I want to be normal. I don't want to have powers that make me different. Make me something people want to—to sell or…cut apart to see how I work."

He felt Sam's fingers stutter in their washing of his hair before he continued. "We're never going to let that happen, Jack," he said firmly. "And trust me, I know how it feels to be different; to be a…freak. But as long as you are okay with who you are, then what do you care what anyone else thinks? Jack, your powers have saved a lot of people. They've done a lot more good than they have bad. And Dean and Cas and I, we still love you for who you are, no matter what. And I know you would make your mom proud too." Sam gently eased his head back to start rinsing his hair out.

Jack relaxed just a bit thinking of his mom, the beautiful, kind looking woman from the video she had left him. He wished for the millionth time that he could have met her, but maybe knowing that she would have been proud of him was enough.

Sam finished rinsing his hair and then helped Jack out and dried him off, dressing him in a comfortable pair of sweats.

"Come on," Sam said, helping him up from where he had been sitting on the closed toilet. "Let's finish patching you up so you can rest."

Dean and Cas had set up the first aid stuff and Sam settled Jack on the bed so they could clean and bandage the abrasions on his wrists and the painful cut in his knee. Jack was relieved to see the vial of his grace on the side table. After they were done, Cas picked it up as he sat on the bed by Jack's knee.

"This should help," he told the nephillim, handing it to him.

Jack took the grace and opened the bottle with trembling hands. He inhaled the shimmering substance and felt the surge rush through his veins. However, it didn't have the effect he thought it would and as he looked down to peek under the bandages on his wrists, they were still raw and scabbed over.

"What was wrong with it?" Dean asked worriedly.

Castiel frowned and sat on the side of the bed, facing Jack, reaching out a hand to hover over his face. Cas closed his eyes as he moved the hand down Jack's body before pulling it away with a sympathetic look.

"You're grace will start working again soon with a little rest," he assured Jack. "It's in shock from the trauma of being cut apart. It will recover fully within a couple days, just like you." He gently cupped Jack's chin with one hand, studying the bruises on his face. "What I'm worried about is the damage to your wings."

Jack shivered and ducked his head in shame. He didn't know they would find out about that. They must have found the feathers. "They're okay."

"Jack," Cas cautioned firmly. "You can't pretend with me, I can see them. Let us take care of them now so you don't have to suffer until your grace can start healing. Wings are the closest to your grace and take the longest to heal."

Jack gave a shuddering sigh. He didn't want to pull his wings out again. Didn't like the way he felt exposed. But…he was around his family here, and he knew no one was going to hurt him. His wings were also rather uncomfortable.

"Okay, but…I don't know how to make them visible. Those men had something that did it."

Dean cursed and Cas set a hand on his shoulder. "Just concentrate. You'll be able to."

He helped Jack slip his shirt off and then Jack hunched forward, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate on making his wings visible. The process had felt bad last time, but when he thought about how they felt when they were corporeal, he was able to replicate that and soon, with a small pop of dispersed air, two brown and speckled wings appeared in his peripheral vision. At least he found that revealing them himself was not as uncomfortable of an experience.

Sam and Dean both inhaled in awe, and he felt a little ashamed. He knew his wings looked terrible. Those men had taken so many feathers from him.

"They ripped out more than I thought," Cas said grimly as he got up from the bed and went to stand behind Jack.

Jack's eyes stung and he tried to swallow back the emotions and the humiliation of what had happened. He'd essentially just been plucked like a turkey.

"Should we put some antibiotic cream on the raw spots?" Sam asked.

Cas nodded. "That would probably help." He grabbed a pillow from the bed and handed it to Jack. "Why don't you lay down? This will take a while." He turned to Sam and Dean. "I may need your help."

They nodded and Jack carefully maneuvered himself onto his stomach, clutching the pillow under him, laying his wings out on either side of him. They barely fit on the bed, but he didn't care at the moment. He just wanted this to be over.

Sam ran to wet some washcloths in warm water and first the three of them set to work cleaning the dried and clotted blood from Jack's wings. He winced. It hurt and his wings just seemed to be extremely sensitive. Perhaps it was because he could feel his grace more acutely flowing inside of them and it too was hurting right now. After they cleaned the blood off, they began to apply the antibiotic ointment and it stung so much, Jack flinched and tried to pull his wings away.

"Easy," Sam said, gently laying his hand on the arm of Jack's wing. "We're almost done."

"It's important that your wings don't get infected," Cas told him. "It will be extremely painful and might hamper your new feathers growing in."

Jack buried his face in the pillow and tried to bite back the whimpers as the stinging substance was put onto his raw wings. But after it was done, Castiel began to run his fingers through Jack's remaining feathers and put them back into order. Jack thought the ministrations were incredibly soothing, like when Sam had washed his hair, but even more so, and he instantly relaxed against the bed.

"Let me just groom your feathers back into place," Cas said. "You should try to sleep now, Jack."

Jack didn't need much coaxing. Cas' fingers moved gently through his feathers and the movement was so relaxing he was drifting off almost before he realized it.

Jack was in complete darkness. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't move. He tried to gasp past the obstruction in his mouth, but he felt like he was drowning. He tried to struggle, but his body wouldn't respond as if he were stuck fast.

Then dark figures loomed over him, featureless except for the metal objects they carried, flashing in the darkness. Some held knives, others held needles and they converged around him, sticking the knives into him and cutting him up. Jack tried to scream, but he couldn't even find the breath to make a sound. He was completely helpless as they cut him apart.

"Jack!"

Jack gasped, jerking into a sitting position. Something was hampering him and he realized it was his wings. He flapped them a couple times before he dematerialized them again. He then realized that Cas was crouching in front of him beside the bed, holding onto his shoulders. Sam and Dean were hovering in the background worriedly.

"Just breathe," Cas coaxed and Jack tried, breathing past the shudders that wracked his body. He hugged his arms around himself, trying to push away the awful feeling of the nightmare that still clutched at him.

"You're okay, it was just a nightmare," Cas said in a calming voice, shifting to sit on the side of the bed.

Jack continued breathing and then simply collapsed against the angel's chest. Cas seemed slightly surprised, but wrapped his arms around Jack anyway as the nephillim shuddered against him, breathing in Cas' scent, feeling his grace, and knowing for sure he was safe, not just dreaming while he was still trapped in that box on his way to the British Men of Letters.

"It's okay," Cas said again and Jack finally calmed down a little, pulling back.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked the Winchesters.

Sam smiled sympathetically and shook his head. "No. Don't worry, Jack."

Jack looked around at the hotel room and suddenly had a deep longing to be back in the bunker.

"Can…can we go home now?" he asked softly.

Dean smiled and came over to ruffle his hair gently. "I think that's probably a good idea. I'll go get the car packed."

Jack sat on the edge of the bed while Castiel stood in front of him. "How are you feeling?"

Jack took stock of himself. His body and wings were still a little sore but he did feel better. "I don't feel as bad as I did."

"Good." Cas reached out and pressed a hand to his forehead briefly. "Your grace does feel like it's recovering. A couple more days rest and you should be good as new."

Jack wasn't sure he would be though. Physically, maybe, but there were so many other things weighing on him. So many things since he'd gotten thrown into the apocalypse world, and maybe even before that. He just felt tired. He just wanted to not have to worry about anything for a while. To not have anything pressing.

"Don't worry, Jack," Sam said coming over to set a hand on his shoulder. "You'll have plenty of time to rest and recover once we get back to the bunker. I know Dean has been trying to find an excuse to use his TV room. I think we're all due for a little R&R."

Jack managed a small smile. "I think that maybe that would be nice," he said.

"Great," Sam said with a smile, squeezing Jack's shoulder and turning to smile at Cas too.

The door opened and Dean came back in. "Car's packed. You all ready?"

Jack stood and took a deep breath before accepting the coat Sam offered him. "Yes," he said.

"Then let's go home," Dean said.

"Home," Jack agreed and felt a little bit more settled inside as he glanced between these three men who had taken him in, his family.

Maybe, he was already home.