A/N: For LadyWallace, who wanted a fic with Cas and Crowley being stuck together—literally. Oh, the evil fun we're about to have…

Takes place at the end of the season 10 finale, but Cas did not get whammied with the attack dog curse.

Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading! She also drew a fantastic piece of fan art for this fic. You can check it out on her DeviantArt page, or on this story's page on Ao3.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Sadly. Some lines from 10x23.

Chapter 1: Out of the Frying Pan

"This is all your fault."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Crowley as the demon paced back and forth in the cramped tunnel. "How is it my fault?"

"You let a bloody witch get the better of you!" Crowley scowled, agitated footfalls crunching across loose silt from the underground cavern they'd been trapped in. He took two more steps, only for the chain around his wrist to yank taut, preventing him from moving further.

Castiel gritted his teeth as his own manacle tugged. He was no more pleased about being chained together than Crowley was. "Rowena is your mother. You're the one she's trying to punish." Castiel had just been collateral.

Rowena stood at the table, reciting a spell over the bowl of blood and other ingredients they'd needed to remove the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm. Castiel watched with growing unease as the witch's voice rose and crescendoed with roiling anger. She'd been forced to sacrifice the one thing she had ever loved in the boy named Oskar to make this magic work. Crowley's mouth curved upward in a small smile.

"Ab cruore cordis Mei adfusuro in aeternum. Tolle maledictionem tuam ab hoc viro." Rowena added Dean's hair to the bowl, and bluish smoke began to curl into the air. A radiant light illuminated the witch's face.

Castiel shot a worried look at Crowley. He had a bad feeling about this…

The bowl exploded, a shockwave slamming into Castiel and throwing him against the wall. Pain radiated through his vessel for a brief moment before he managed to stagger to his feet. Across the room, Crowley was also stumbling upright.

The sound of chains falling to the floor had Castiel surging toward Rowena, but she shot her hands out at both of them.

"Manete!"

Castiel lurched to a stop, suddenly unable to move. "What is this?" he gasped.

A glance at Crowley showed him rooted to the floor as well, pushing futilely against the binding force. Grinning widely, Rowena reached for the Book of the Damned and the Codex.

"This is impossible," Crowley uttered, slowly straightening. "You're not powerful enough."

Rowena shot him a dry look. "To what? Control the legs of a bored king and a withered angel?"

Castiel continued to struggle. Crowley was right, this shouldn't be possible…

"Couno," Rowena said, and the chains that had bound her only moments before flew up from the floor. One manacle snapped around Castiel's wrist, while the second latched around Crowley's. And the last vestige of power Castiel had been trying to summon to break the witch's hold snuffed out under the binding sigils.

Rowena gave her son a simpering smile. "I'm afraid, Fergus, that in all your long life, you've never seen what a real witch can do with real magic. I'm terrifically pleased you'll have an eternity in prison to remember this now." Extending one arm, she lowered her voice and began to chant. "Tempus et spatium in sinu meo, aperuerunt portam antiquam carcerem."

A burst of wind whipped around them, and the air wobbled with refracted light as the concrete wall cracked and split into a glowing portal. Castiel's heart leaped into his throat as he realized he was helpless to react.

"Auferte malum."

Crowley went flying, straight into the vortex, and since the chain linked them together, Castiel was pulled in too.

Thus, angel and demon had found themselves in this undisclosed, underground cavern, with no discernible way out. Castiel didn't know how Rowena had gained so much power so quickly. Perhaps she'd woven something into the spell to remove the Mark, or perhaps it was part of the trade-off. Using magic from the Book of the Damned was dangerous and came with a price. But Sam had said they needed to make it happen, no matter the cost. And Castiel had agreed. He always agreed when it came to protecting the Winchesters.

And he was paying for it, just as he always did.

Crowley pivoted sharply, yanking on the chain and Castiel's arm again. The angel nearly growled in annoyance. The chain had five feet of slack between them, but it wasn't nearly enough space.

"I'm going to gut her like a fish," Crowley was muttering under his breath. "Paint the walls with her intestines."

Castiel rolled his eyes; they needed to find a way out of here first. He withdrew his angel blade from his coat. It was fortunate he'd grown accustomed to keeping it on his physical person, rather than on the ethereal plane, a habit he'd developed since his time as a human. He would've been unable to access it otherwise with his powers shut down as they were.

Lifting his shackled arm, he stuck the point into the locking mechanism and tried to jimmy it. Unfortunately, lock picking lessons was one of the things Dean had promised to teach him some time ago…but hadn't ever gotten around to.

Castiel's thoughts turned to Dean, wondering if the spell had even worked. He hoped so, hoped it all hadn't been for nothing. He wondered what the Winchesters would think about his disappearance. Assume he'd been killed? There wouldn't be a body or wing prints left behind in the abandoned basement. It wasn't the first time he'd vanished in the wake of a spell; perhaps they'd think Castiel had been sent to a place like Purgatory. In which case, there was nothing for them to do about it.

Or, would Dean think Castiel had just left? Gotten the Mark off him and then taken off, not wanting to face the hunter after their last…encounter. Of course Castiel didn't blame Dean for that. It was the Mark's rage, and though every fist that split skin and shattered bone hurt, both physically and otherwise, Castiel knew it wasn't really Dean. Not that Castiel didn't deserve a beating or two, given his history. But he did grieve over the fact that Dean might believe Castiel had given up on him. Which wasn't true. It would never be true.

Crowley tugged the chain taut again, jerking Castiel's arm and making the blade slip.

"Would you hold still?" he snapped.

The demon paused, eyes narrowing as Castiel once again tried to wedge the point of his blade into the lock. When that didn't work, he moved to a chainlink, attempting to at least detach himself from the King of Hell. But he wasn't having much luck with that, either.

Mounting frustration over his predicament and helplessness made Castiel grip the hilt tighter and switch from subtle prodding to bluntly striking the metal. All that succeeded in doing, however, was creating a discordant clatter that aggravated his headache. Perhaps if he had his normal strength…but the shackle on his arm was hampering his powers, and…Castiel hadn't possessed his original strength for a while now. Even with his own grace restored, it wasn't what it had once been, not since Metatron had sliced and diced it up for his spell.

Castiel gave up with a heavy sigh, slumping back to lean against the wall.

"Perhaps you should try cutting your arm off."

Castiel glowered at Crowley, and lifted the blade a fraction. "Or yours."

He wondered if the demon had an angel blade on him, as well. With nerves mutually frayed, there was a likely chance they could try to kill each other before finding a way out of this mess.

They exchanged glares for a prolonged beat before Crowley finally looked away. "Well," the demon said. "No use standing around here waiting for a rescue that isn't coming." He took a few steps down the tunnel, only to jolt to a stop when the chain jerked. Crowley shot Castiel an irritated look, which the angel returned.

It irked Castiel on an instinctual level to follow the demon's lead. But, Crowley was right that lingering here wasn't going to get them anywhere. So, swallowing his annoyance, Castiel stowed his blade and fell into step beside the King of Hell.

The tunnel was long and dark, though neither angel nor demon needed light to navigate by. There was a good five feet of space above their heads, and the width of the tunnel allowed them to keep some distance from each other.

"What if we're traveling deeper into a mountain?" Castiel brought up after nearly an hour of walking with no change in the environment. The air was close and musty, almost oppressive. Who knew how many tons of earth was bearing down on their heads. Should something like an earthquake happen, they could be buried alive, too immortal to die but too weak to heal. That was an utterly terrifying thought… "Perhaps we should have gone the other direction."

"Or the other direction could lead to a dead end," Crowley retorted. "What, you want to turn around? What if the exit is just a little further?"

Castiel clamped his mouth shut, and refrained from pointing out when 'a little further' did not produce an exit, but just more dark, winding tunnel. Struck by idle curiosity, Castiel reached into his pocket for his cell phone. No service. Oh well, it was worth a try.

The glow from the LED screen spilled across the wall, and Castiel pulled up short at the sight of markings. Holding the lit cell phone closer for inspection, he scanned the scratches on the stone. His arm yanked when Crowley was jerked to an unexpected stop.

"This is no time to admire the scenery," the demon groused.

Castiel ignored him. "This is Linear A."

"Fascinating," Crowley replied dryly. "Can we focus here!"

Castiel studied the cave markings. "Based on the Minoan attributes and content, it would appear we are in one of the ancient labyrinths." Which did not bode well for them.

He lifted a hand to one of the hieroglyphs that denoted a name. "Tarhunzas."

Crowley's eyes widened a fraction. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered.

Castiel glanced over his shoulder, brow furrowing. "What?"

"My mother has a twisted sense of humor." Shaking his head, Crowley began roving his gaze over the tunnel in new understanding. "This isn't just some archeological site buried for centuries; it's a prison set out of normal space and time."

Castiel frowned. "How can you be sure?"

"I know the entity who resides here, and that's his name you just read." He spun around, letting loose another string of curses.

"And how would Rowena know of this place?" Castiel asked. There was no point in asking how she'd even had the power to send them here, though he'd like to address it if they ever got out. Castiel's stomach twinged with worry for the Winchesters. Rowena had the Book of the Damned and the Codex, which made her exponentially more dangerous running loose in the world.

Crowley shrugged. "She's resourceful. Had her hands in anything she could back at court." He scowled again. "Can't trust anyone to keep their mouths shut these days."

"Then, it doesn't matter how far we walk," Castiel said, realization sinking like a stone in his gut. "We're essentially trapped in some kind of pocket dimension?"

"Essentially. Our only chance is to reach the center of the labyrinth where the lord of this place—Teshub—dwells. He might be persuaded to remove these cuffs." Crowley lifted his chained arm for emphasis.

Castiel's mouth pressed into a thin line. Teshub was the Hurrian god of sky and storm. And the pagan deities were not known for their altruistic actions. But, if anyone could talk someone into a deal, it was the former King of the Crossroads.

"Can Teshub open a portal for us to travel through?" Castiel asked.

"Er, no," Crowley replied. "This prison was built for him, actually."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Then how can we possibly escape?"

"Any supernatural being with the power to teleport can come and go," Crowley explained. "Only Teshub is bound to the labyrinth. But since these bloody manacles are blocking our powers, we'll need his assistance in removing them."

That posed a problem, then. Castiel's wings were broken, and he wouldn't be able to use them to escape this pocket dimension.

The King of Hell started walking again, only to stop when Castiel refused to move. "Well come on! We don't have all of eternity!" Crowley cocked his head. "Actually, we do, but I'd prefer to get back and onto torturing my dear mother sooner rather than late."

"How do I know you won't leave me here when the chain is off?"

Crowley's brows rose. "Are you bloody kidding me?"

Castiel crossed his arms. "My wings are not functional, even without the sigiled cuffs," he begrudgingly admitted. "I want your guarantee you won't leave me here, or I'm not moving."

Crowley sputtered. "What, you don't trust me? After everything we've been through together?"

"Exactly."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Fine, you have my word. We leave this forsaken place together."

Castiel dropped his arms to his sides, satisfied. Of the two of them, Crowley had a better track record keeping his word, despite being a demon.

They started walking again. It was strange; not that long ago Castiel had wanted to stay locked up in another dimension where he could do penance. He wasn't finished earning redemption, he knew that. But while Heaven's order had been reestablished, Castiel didn't know if Sam and Dean were alright. And he couldn't spend the rest of eternity locked away, not knowing.

"How do you know so much about this place, anyway?" he asked curiously.

"I've visited before," Crowley said in an offhanded way that Castiel recognized meant the demon was hiding something.

He decided not to press that issue at the moment, though. "Aren't labyrinths supposed to be full of perils? Will there be things that try to hinder us from reaching the center?"

Crowley didn't respond for a moment. "Probably," he finally said. "I hadn't explored the tunnels in great depth when I was here before, but Teshub had made comments about his…pets."

Great. "Are you armed?" Castiel asked. He heard Crowley let out a huff of frustration.

"The angel blade I usually keep on hand is stuck in the void beyond my reach," the demon ground out.

Well, that was both good and bad news for Castiel. Good, because he didn't have to worry about Crowley stabbing him in the back. Though, he didn't imagine the demon would want to drag his corpse around. And, Crowley had made the deal that they would escape together.

But it meant they were not sufficiently armed against any threats that might present themselves, especially without their innate powers.

"How'd you get your blade out?" Crowley asked suspiciously, and Castiel realized that while he was himself relieved to have a slight advantage over the demon, Crowley would not be happy about it.

"I stopped keeping it on the ethereal plane a while ago," he explained.

Crowley hummed thoughtfully and muttered, "Note to self."

They fell into a tense silence then, the only sound the soft crunch and shuffle of silt under their shoes. Castiel did not like pocket dimensions, given his past experiences with them were not very good.

"Do you know who locked Teshub away in this place?" he asked.

"Before my time," was Crowley's clipped reply.

Castiel wondered if it had been Gabriel, back before he'd run off to become a pagan god himself.

"And you're certain you can convince him to aid us?"

Crowley rounded on him. "You're like the bloody kid in the backseat! 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'"

Castiel's fingers twitched with the urge to reach for his angel blade, but he caught himself. They would likely be stuck in this place for at least several hours, maybe days, trying to navigate the maze. And they'd make better progress if they weren't at each other's throats. Besides, Crowley was currently Castiel's only means of getting out of here. So he clenched his jaw and resolved not to speak to the villain again.

That is, until they came to a fork in the tunnel. Demon and angel evaluated the two, dark passages, which looked completely identical. Castiel was reminded of a similar situation that'd been downloaded into his brain by Metatron. But Castiel did not think they would be able to 'follow their noses' in this case, as pocket dimensions didn't have access to fresh air.

Crowley drew his shoulders back and shifted to face the left shaft. "We should go this way."

"You said you never saw the tunnels when you were last here," Castiel pointed out. "Which means you can't know which way we need to go."

"As opposed to you, who's never been here at all," Crowley scoffed.

Castiel held back a sigh. "Fine." Let Crowley take the lead. Then, when they found themselves going in circles or finding dead ends, the demon would have no one to complain to but himself. Castiel was an angel, a celestial being millennia older than the former King of the Crossroads; he could be patient.

Or, he could try.

Castiel lost track of time as they made their way through the tunnel, following its bends left and right to the point he had no idea what direction they were heading in anymore. Granted, it was a labyrinth, and that was its function. It was very irksome, though. And Castiel hated to say that he was growing weary, the sigiled cuffs cutting off access to celestial stamina. He couldn't tell if Crowley was also growing tired, but Castiel would never be the first one to mention taking a break.

The King of Hell slowly drew to a stop, eyes peeled into the darkness. There was a large shape bulging out from an alcove in the cave wall. Even bound, Castiel's senses knew it was not a living thing, but he couldn't see every detail. He dug into his pocket for his phone and punched a button to light up the screen. The bluish halo cascaded over what looked like a nest made from bones and strips of tattered clothes. A cracked shield held up one corner; and a rusted sword lay discarded on the ground. A collection of seven skulls lay in the back of the roost, holes jabbed right through the craniums.

"Well," Crowley finally said, reaching up to adjust his shirt collar. "At least we know we're on the right track."

Right, because all of Teshub's 'pets' would be located further in toward the center of the labyrinth. Which was where they needed to go.

Wonderful.