Chapter 7

Getting Cas discharged from the hospital wasn't as simple as just signing some release forms. The doctor had copious amounts of instructions on care and follow-up and long-term expectations. Normally Dean just smiled and nodded with that kind of stuff so he could get out of there as quickly as possible, but this time he listened to every word, mentally running through how they'd put it all into practice back at the bunker, asking questions as he thought of them. He was leaving with an encyclopedia's worth of papers on bandage maintenance, various prescriptions, and a preliminary plan for physical therapy, which they wouldn't start for a while, but needed to have. And even though Dean had a decent enough working knowledge of half this stuff, he still planned to follow it all to the letter.

He was also going to strictly manage Cas's pain pills. Dean may have already proved as negligent as his future self in that apocalyptic world had in regards to Cas's well-being, but that stopped now.

They finally got everything squared away and the paperwork signed—which was good, because Sam may have been a genius with the insurance stuff, but they didn't need the real FBI getting wind of the situation and coming down to check on their 'agent.'

Sam helped Cas get changed into a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, then helped him get from the bed to the wheelchair. Cas hunched in on himself, his entire demeanor despondent as Sam started to push him out the door. Dean had hoped getting out of this place would lift Cas's mood just a little, but it was obviously going to take a lot more than that. He couldn't tell if Cas was just wallowing in self-loathing, or if he doubted the Winchesters were going to stick by him as promised—which stung but wasn't uncalled for. Hopefully once they got him home and made him more comfortable, they could start to address all those things and work on repairing the fragile trust Dean had broken. Between all of them.

They made their way out of the hospital, and Dean left Sam and Cas on the curb to go get the Impala and bring it around. He had a large bag full of papers and meds, which he stowed in the trunk before grabbing some blankets and a small pillow he'd snuck out of the hospital that he used to pad the backseat with. Then he drove back to the pick-up zone.

Sam didn't give him a chance to get out and help, just immediately wheeled Cas to the rear and opened the door himself. Then he helped ease Cas into the backseat, keeping a firm grip on Cas's elbows above the splints so he wouldn't accidentally reach out and put weight on his wrists.

Dean had gotten back out of the car anyway, but could only watch, tensely poised to jump in if he was needed. But Sam got Cas settled, and after shutting the back door, went to return the wheelchair. Dean climbed back in behind the wheel, twisting around to make sure Cas was comfortable.

"You good?" It was an eight-hour drive back to Lebanon, and Dean was hoping they could make it without having to stop at a motel.

Cas nodded mutely.

Sam returned, slipping into the passenger seat, and Dean pulled out of the lane to get on the road.

The silence in the car was like a heavy pall, and Dean kept glancing at the cassette player. Yet somehow turning on the classic rock and blaring it through the cab didn't seem all that appealing.

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at Cas. "When we get home, we'll get you set up with Netflix in your room. I can give you that pop culture education you've been needing."

Cas, of course, didn't say anything in response, and he barely met Dean's gaze before turning morosely to look out the window. Dean's throat constricted. The doc said it should be another week or two before Cas's voice should start coming back, and that should help things. Dean couldn't begin to imagine how frustrating not being able to communicate was.

"And I'll make you tomato rice soup," Dean went on, feeling compelled to break the silence for both of them. "It's way better than hospital broth. Just ask Sam."

He glanced at his brother, who remained quiet for a long moment, jaw tight. Sam then looked over his shoulder at Cas.

"There's lots of flavorful soups you can try until your throat is better."

Dean sighed. Dammit, he was making an effort. Couldn't Sam cut him some slack for that?

The car fell silent again, and Dean didn't know what to say to fill it. He decided to reach for the music after all, when suddenly something rammed into the back of the Impala with a crunching of metal. Dean slammed the brakes and cranked the wheel to control the spin as they skidded off the road.

They came to a lurching stop, Dean's heart jackhammering inside his chest. He whipped his head toward Sam, who was slumped against the door.

"Sam!" Dean shot a hand toward his brother's jawline. Feeling a pulse, he craned around to look into the backseat, heart nearly stopping at Cas flung against the backdoor as well, completely limp. Dean couldn't reach him from the driver's side, so he frantically pushed his door open and scrabbled out, only to pull up short as a gangly guy with stringy hair was suddenly blocking his path.

Dean barely had time to swear before two fingers touched his forehead, and everything went dark.

Dean woke with a start, jerking his head up from where his chin had been against his chest, and smacked the back of his skull on something hard. He tried to twist around, but found he'd been lashed to a piece of machinery with ropes. Sam was sitting on the concrete floor beside him, also tied up, his head drooping forward. Dean's heart dropped into his stomach, and he whipped his gaze around what looked like an old factory. His blood turned to ice in his veins when he spotted Cas, laid out on a dusty conveyor belt a few feet away, with the guy who had knocked Dean out standing over him.

Cas at least appeared to be conscious, as his head was slowly lolling back and forth. When his eyes met Dean's, there was nothing but sheer terror in them. Dean tugged at his bonds.

The angel turned toward him, mouth curving upward in a sneer. "Sam and Dean Winchester, what a pleasure to finally meet you. You know, I'm glad you two are so recognizable. It made it easier finding Castiel here."

Dean's stomach cramped. Shit, all this time he'd been making excuses that Cas didn't want to draw the angels to them…when all along the risk was them leading the angels to him. How could he have been so stupid? He should have warded the car better, especially after he'd secretly removed some of the protection when Zeke had been in Sam.

Dean glowered at their captor. "What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to continue trying to find a way to reverse Metatron's spell." The angel pivoted back toward Cas. "I bet you thought you'd gotten away, didn't you?" he leered over the prone ex-angel. "But look at you, Castiel; you're a pathetic sack of flesh and bone, so easily breakable now."

Sam let out a low moan as he lifted his head, starting to come to. Dean could only spare a brief flicker of relief, though.

"There is no way to reverse Metatron's spell," he lobbed at the angel. "We went over the Angel Tablet, and it said the spell that cast you all out is irreversible. So torturing Cas won't get you anywhere because he can't tell you anything!"

The angel slowly straightened and cocked his head in a predatory manner. "I see. Then I'll just have to keep experimenting until I create a reversal spell."

Dean quirked his brows in bewilderment. "What?"

Sam jolted beside him as he finally came fully awake, wide eyes quickly taking in their predicament.

The angel's face cracked into a malignant grin, and he half turned to slowly bring his hand down to rest on Cas's chest. Cas flinched so violently, the conveyor belt rattled.

"That's what I was working on, before I was so rudely interrupted by Bartholomew's flunkies attacking. You see, since Castiel's grace was used in the spell, I figure he can also be used to counter it. Unfortunately, the sigil work I've tried so far was a bust." The angel traced a finger up Cas's sternum, causing the ex-angel to shudder. "So were the runes lit with holy oil. And when I cracked his rib cage open so I could draw sigils on his still beating heart. Oh, you begged for death with that one, didn't you, Castiel?"

Bile rose in the back of Dean's throat and he suddenly couldn't breathe. Oh god. He'd suspected…could even have filled in some of the blanks with his own imagination and experience, but to hear it recounted, to know exactly what Cas had been put through…Dean was gonna be sick.

Next to him, Sam looked just as green as Dean felt. They had to get out of here, had to do something… Both of them tugged at the ropes, but couldn't find any give.

The sadistic angel pursed his mouth as he regarded Cas. "We never did finish the crucifixion," he mused, and turned to walk over to a tray of metal instruments that were just like the ones in that slaughterhouse.

Cas closed his eyes in abject defeat, which filled Dean with even more terror. No, no, no, he couldn't let this happen.

"Wait, wait!" he shouted. "I'll take you to the Angel Tablet."

The angel paused to look at him. "You just said the Tablet said the spell was irreversible. So what use would I have for it?"

"I lied. It does have the reversal spell. I don't understand it, but it's there. I'll take you to it. Just let them go."

"Dean," Sam sputtered.

Dean ignored him. "Let Cas and my brother go, and you can have the Angel Tablet."

Their captor eyed them suspiciously. He then abruptly marched back to Cas and grabbed his arm by the splint, hoisting him up and off the conveyor belt. A strangled sound escaped Cas's mangled throat as he dangled mercilessly in the angel's grip.

Dean's heart jolted. "Leave him alone!"

"But what if Castiel is one of the ingredients I need?" the angel replied mockingly, giving Cas a sharp shake.

"He's not!" Dean shouted desperately, watching his friend's face screw up in agony. "He's not. He's human now. If you need a human for an ingredient, you can use me."

Cas managed to pry his eyes open and gaze at Dean in horror. Dean just shot him a silent plea to hold on, that Dean would get him out of this. Would gladly trade places with him.

Maybe Cas saw that in his eyes, because his blue ones suddenly sparked with a fire, and Cas threw himself at his tormentor. It did little, of course. The angel snarled at him, and tossed Cas through the air to crash into the tray of torture implements.

"No!" Dean yelled, straining against his bonds more urgently.

The angel stalked over to Cas, who was lying on his side. Dean couldn't see how badly he was hurt, but he wasn't moving. The angel crouched down.

"That's right. All you care about are your precious Winchesters. If I wasn't pressed for time trying to reopen Heaven, I'd take a scalpel to them for a few hours. Make you watch."

Cas flipped over and there was a flash of steel, an angel blade clasped in his cupped hands. He sliced their captor's throat, and then pushed himself into an upright position and opened his mouth wide. Dean gaped in stupefaction as wispy blue light poured out from the angel's neck and into Cas. It burrowed deep, turning into a burning glow in Cas's sternum, and his eyes lit up like azure spheres.

The angel dropped backward onto his ass, gurgling noises coming from his throat as blood started to stream down his neck. Cas's gaze hardened, and he reached a hand out to plant on top of the angel's head. Blinding light burst forth, and Dean had to wrench his face away. When the glare and sizzle faded, he looked back to find the angel's eyes burned out and smoking. The body toppled onto its side.

Cas slowly got to his feet. His gaze drifted down to his hands, and he stared at them for several long moments as he flexed his fingers in and out. Then he clenched his fists, and the splints went flying off.

Dean looked at him in slack-jawed disbelief. "Cas?"

Cas turned toward them, his posture stiffer than Dean had seen in a long time. With a wave of his hand, the ropes around Dean and Sam came loose. They hastily shrugged the bonds off and scrambled to their feet.

"Cas?" Sam asked worriedly, yet cautiously. "Are you okay?"

Cas was silent for a beat. "I'm an angel again," he finally said, and Dean could have sagged in relief at hearing his friend's voice, yet he was also confused by what just happened.

"So, just like that?" he said dubiously. "You got your mojo back?"

Cas's eyes took on a haunted look, and he glanced over his shoulder at the dead angel. "Not mine."

"You can do that?" Sam asked in disbelief.

Dean snorted. "Hell, why didn't you just do that from the beginning?"

Cas flashed him a scathing look. "Because now I'm a barbarian like them." A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he ducked his gaze in contrition, voice softening. "I had no choice, though. I couldn't let Malachi hurt either of you." He took a deep breath. "And if the angels are going to war, then I need to be ready."

He looked up at them again, and stepped forward without warning, extending both hands out to their foreheads, and with a light touch, instantly healed their bruises. Cas's gaze lingered on Sam for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly.

Sam was studying him with equal scrutiny. "So, you're all healed? Everything?"

Cas seemed to remember the bandage around his neck, and he reached a hand up to rip it off. Sam let out a sigh of relief, and Dean was also glad to see the macabre gash was completely gone.

His stomach knotted again at the thought of everything Cas had endured when he'd been captured. It was just like being on a rack in Hell. But it was over now. Cas was back, and he was fine, and they could all go home. Like they should have from the start.

Castiel followed Sam and Dean as they made their way out of the factory. Malachi's grace churned within him, a seething source of power and warmth and energy that Castiel had sorely missed since losing his own grace. This wasn't a replacement, though, just a substitute, one that did the job but was ill-fitted to him. It didn't even give him his wings back. His stomach quivered with a queasiness he couldn't quite banish, though he didn't know whether it was the stolen grace or the lingering horror of being captured again, faced with the prospect of more endless torture…

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked, jolting him.

Castiel nodded. Strange—he had been deprived of a voice for the past several days, but now that it was restored, he didn't really feel like talking. In fact, he felt adrift, trailing behind the Winchesters automatically, even as a small part of him wondered whether he would be allowed to accompany them back to the bunker or not. He did have his powers back, and would no longer be a burden to them.

They exited the factory and Dean pulled up short at the sight of the Impala parked outside. The right rear side was smashed inward, with the backdoor's window shattered. Dean stormed over to the driver's side and leaned in, only to yank out a set of keys.

"That son-of-a-bitch crashed into my Baby and then had the gall to drive her here. I would kill him if he weren't already dead."

Castiel's heart cringed; he knew how important that car was to Dean. "I'm sorry."

Dean shot him a startled look. "Hey, it's a good thing the bastard's dead. It doesn't matter who did it."

"I meant about your car." Castiel looked at the ground. "Malachi only attacked you to get to me."

He was met with silence, and finally glanced up again. Dean was gazing at him with an almost aggrieved soberness.

"I care more about you than the car."

Castiel frowned. That statement was highly incongruent with everything he knew about Dean Winchester. The only thing above that car was Sam.

Castiel shifted his weight awkwardly and changed the subject. "I'd still like to go back to the bunker with you and Sam. I can be of use now. If Gadreel has aligned himself with Metatron, I can help you find him. He might lead us to the Scribe. And I can take over healing Sam."

Dean stiffened. "Wait, Sam still needs healing?"

The younger Winchester scowled at him. "I'm fine." Sam turned to Castiel. "Maybe a little tired, but seriously, I think I can recover on my own at this point. And you don't have to be of use, Cas. You can come back to the bunker with us because we're family, and it's your home, too."

Castiel's throat constricted, bringing back a glimmer of phantom pain from both a slit throat and slit hopes when he'd first returned to the bunker after losing his grace…

"Still," he said roughly. "I want to repay you for your kindness when I was in the hospital." He looked at Dean. "And I will do everything I can to fix this mess with the angels," he promised.

"Cas, the angels falling wasn't your fault," Dean said fervently. "Metatron tricked you."

Castiel shook his head. "That doesn't change the fact that my actions led to this."

"That doesn't mean you deserved what that angel did to you," Dean retorted. He paused and ran a hand down his face. "And maybe we should talk about this, because I could see in that hospital that you didn't believe that. You still don't."

Castiel's brows pinched, and he looked away in mounting frustration. "It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"Cas," Sam stepped in. "What you went through was horrific. No one should ever have to go through that."

Castiel's cheeks warmed. He wished the Winchesters hadn't heard Malachi say all of that. He was ashamed at how the Anarchist's methods had broken him. Back when they were happening and just now, when he'd quailed under the threat of more.

"It's over," Castiel forced out. "And it's not like I haven't been tortured before," he added dryly. It had just been different as a human.

Both Winchesters were quiet for a prolonged moment.

Dean finally cleared his throat. "Yeah, same here," he said quietly. "Which means I know that stuff has a way of coming back up. And I know you want to put it behind you, pretend it never happened…" His voice cracked, and he let out a breath. "But it doesn't work that way. So…just know that we're here for you when it does. Okay? And I know you've got your grace back now—or, some grace. But we're still gonna give you a room at the bunker and you can still stay with us. You should stay with us."

Castiel rolled his shoulder in discomfort. As much as he wanted to be a useful ally to the Winchesters, he was no longer certain he wanted to be around them if they were going to keep pressing him about these things.

"A room isn't necessary," he mumbled. He didn't need to sleep anymore.

Dean just gazed at him sadly. "Yeah, it is. Like Sam said, you're family."

Castiel's heart clenched at the declaration, said so ardently now, but what would happen down the line?

Dean swallowed hard. "And I have a lot of shit to make up for. Which I'm only going to get a chance to do if you're around." He flicked a sidelong glance at Sam. "I have a lot of trust to rebuild, for both of you. Just- please, give me that chance."

Castiel looked at Sam, knowing that the younger Winchester had suffered just as greatly from Dean's recent actions. Sam lifted his gaze to meet Castiel's, eyes wavering with indecision and hurt that mirrored Castiel's own inner turmoil. And for the first time ever, they shared a silent communication that Castiel not only understood, but was able to reciprocate. In that moment, it felt as though they'd come to an accord—they would give Dean a chance.

They would try to rebuild this family.

Castiel took a breath and nodded. So did Sam. Dean's eyes were wet and his throat bobbed, and then he gave them a nod of solidarity in return. This didn't automatically fix everything, just as regaining an angel's grace didn't magically erase the effects of Malachi's tortures. Dean was right; those haunted memories would not be leaving Castiel anytime soon.

But the three of them seemed genuinely interested in trying. And part of Castiel wanted to believe that he was fully forgiven, that he truly had a place to go now that Heaven was sealed and his angelic brothers and sisters hated him. Because maybe if they could fix what had gone wrong between them…then there might be hope for the rest of the world.

A/N: And there we have it! Bet you guys didn't expect that. And it's not a full happy ending, but our boys are committed to being on the path to reconciliation. Monday I'm going to post a song fic to 67' Chevy Soundtracks, and then Friday we'll start a short case fic. Hope to see you there! ^_^