Warnings: Violence.

Disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters do not belong to me.

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Black Sky Will Burn (You Were Meant To Make It Hurt)

Pain. Blood. No. These three words kept passing in his head at a steady rythm. Green eyes stared into blue ones. Taunting. Daring. Daring him to cry out. Daring him to say something, anything. He'd thought he had the pattern figured out: if he spoke, cried, whimpered, if he made any sound, his tormentor would pick up the sword - his sword - and would douse it in demon blood before slicing anywhere he wanted. He soon figured out he was wrong. If he kept silent, the other man would step around him and put a hand on his wings. He'd twist and twist until the sound of a breaking bone could be heard in the silence. Castiel would whimper and the slicing would start again.

"No, please." Castiel pleaded. "Dean."

Dean's hand froze, if only for a second. He saw hope light up Castiel's eyes and knew he'd crush it in a matter of seconds. Taking the knife, he cut right where wings met flesh. Castiel whimpered and pleaded again. It was no use.

Castiel felt feverish. His grace was trying to push back the demon blood but there was already too much. His grace was withering. Piece by little, painful piece, it was dying. He felt weak, and he could see in the mirror in front of him that his eyes were half crazy with pain.

Dean liked his victims to see what was happening to them. Hell had taught him that. Alastair had taught him that. He knew first hand that seeing as well as feeling doubled, no, tripled the pain. He knew Castiel was close to death, he could see his eyes losing their brightness. He could see his life slowly fading away. He slowed down. Castiel couldn't die. Not yet. He picked up the jar of holy oil and smiled when Castiel looked at him warily. He poured some in his wounds.

Castiel screamed. He couldn't help it. He screamed until no sound would come out anymore. He didn't know what to do to make Dean stop. He had tried threatening him, telling him he would smite him if he didn't let him go. Now he felt too weak to even do something as simple as smiting someone. Dean took a small knife and Castiel had time to wonder 'why' before he felt it going through one his wings.

"Dean, please" he whispered, voice too hoarse to talk much louder. "You're not only hurting me, you're hurting my vessel. If I die, Jimmy also dies."

Dean picked up something else, Castiel didn't even want to look, and slice Castiel's arm before answering. "I know."

Dean continued his work and Castiel tried holding back his cries. He felt his last piece of grace dying as Dean saw the light leave his eyes. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

As he was putting down the last tool he had used on Castiel, he heard clapping behind him. Dean turned around and was face to face with Zachariah. He growled and Zachariah just smirked, the dick.

"Good job, Winchester. Really good job. Hell thought you well." The angel said, smirk intact.

Dean held back the urge to punch him. He didn't want a broken hand. "Fuck you. I did what you asked, now let me go."

Zachariah sighed. "Are you sure you want to go? We could really use you here." Dean growled again. "Fine, don't get your panties up in a bunch. You will return to earth."

Dean sighed in relief. "Wait a minute, what about my brother?"

Zachariah rolled his eyes. "Your brother his safe, as was specified in the deal we made." Dean made a sound.

"You call that a deal? You didn't give me a choice! It was either kill Cas or watch Sammy die!"

Zachariah shrugged, as if saying 'see if I care, you useless monkey'. The angel snapped his fingers and Dean got one last look at Castiel dead body before landing in his motel room. Sam was still sleeping, unaware of what had just happened. He picked up the bottle of Jack and sat on his bed, drinking shot after shot.

He felt a tear on his cheek and didn't try to stop it. He let them fall, one after the other.

"I'm sorry Cas…" he whispered.