Demon Woman

It wasn't a large building but it was full to bursting, at least, it was supposed to be. Some rich kid had gotten a hold of it and was using it for a fundraiser, the fact that it was a historical location adding a bit of prestiege. Guess they didn't realize that the whole place was on a supernatural faultline.
It was like any other fault line, a place where there were cracks between the surface and what was underneath. Seemed this one was over Hell and there were demons trying to force the cracks wider, bringing their black smoke friends up to.
Dean shivered up on the hill, looking down at the place. There had been screaming a few minutes before, a lot of it, but it was quiet now. That meant he wouldn't have to bump into the elite at least, but who knows how far the black eyed sons of bitches had got in their ritual.
He nodded to his brother as he rose, hoisting his shotgun onto his back and clutching Ruby's knife tightly in his hand. Sam nodded back and headed down the hill, as quiet as a lumberjack could be, armed with a rifle filled with rock salt and a whole other bag of the stuff. Dean didn't like the idea of Sam going alone, who knows what he could get into? He still wasn't sure if Sam was okay or not, whether or not he was still needy of another hit of demon juice. The younger Winchester couldn't make them bleed though, so that was a start and Dean had to show that he trusted him if they were ever going to get anywhere. He didn't have a hard job anyway; just salt the doors and windows so no demons could leave.
With a huff Dean was on his feet and rushing down the hill towards the front. They had only seen two demons enter the place, hopefully that's all there would be.
The place looked like a slaughter house, the elite gutted and lying around the establishment in pools of money tainted blood. There may have only been two demons when they entered, but they had cleaned the place out fast, really really far too fast. Dean picked his way through the bodies on full alert, knife at the ready, looking for movement. There wasn't any. Not in this room, anyway.
Then he heard them. An incantation in some backwards demon language, something between Latin, Enochian, and the sound you make when you start vomiting up your own intestines. There were more than two in there. He opened the door a crack, as quietly as he could, and peered inside. There were ten of them. Eight of them must have already been at the party and he hadn't noticed since they dressed the same as the rest of the talentless wealthy.
He took a deep breath and turned away. Even with Sam at his side, jiving on blood smoothies there would be too many demons for them to handle. As it was he could probably take three of them on and only if they weren't expecting him. He had a feeling that they were expecting him though.
He pulled out his cell phone and typed out a short message, hoping it would get where it needed to go and Cas would figure out how to read a text before he did something stupid like get found.
Getting found didn't take very long.

He'd emptied half of the bag of salt along the back of the building before he saw the guards. There were only two of them, but they were big guys, probably bouncers before possession. Sam set the bag on the ground, rising the shotgun to his shoulder and aiming. Two of them wasn't so bad, but he was shaking. Part of him wished that the gun would do more than knock them down and burn them, part of him wanted to see their blood flow, to lap it up like a dog. He breathed through his nose and tried to keep the thoughts from his mind.
He didn't drink demon blood, he wasn't some junkie, not anymore. He had to stay that way. He couldn't lose control again.
Two of them. He exhaled and his finger went to the trigger. Once he fired, shooting one, the other would be on him. He just had to hope he'd be fast enough.
He didn't even get to drop the first one by the time a third snuck up behind him and everything went dark.

The angel appeared right in the middle of the house, dead bodies surrounding him. There was something about the dead, when a human had no soul that upset him. He did not like the feeling of it. Souls without bodies were very similar; it was only when they were together that he felt that they were safe and normal.
He stepped over the bodies.
Dean had called him here, but he was nowhere to be seen. Castiel could sense him though, even through the Enochian symbols, he could sense Dean. It was the Grace in him, the Grace that Castiel had poured into him, burned into his shoulder. His Grace. It called him, wanted to be a part of him again.
He headed towards the feeling, letting it grow, locking onto Dean like a bloodhound. He stepped lightly, his blade in hand. He didn't need it, not to smite demons, but there was something off here, something stronger than a common demon was nearby.
Away from all of the bodies was a large pair of oak doors. They were lovely and old and as Castiel touched them he could hear the stories of the wood as well as feel what was on the other side, demons, yes, and a lot of them, at least fifteen but Dean as well. He had to assume that Sam was with him.
He pushed the doors open and let the demons hiss and curse and rush him. That was no issue. He was fast, faster than any of them, and he shot out his hand, grabbing one by the neck and thrusting his grace through its body, burning away the imperfections of being a demon. His other hand slashed and cut through another, and it screamed as the blackness oozed from the orifices of it's vessel.
He kept moving, slashing and spreading out his Grace but the demons kept coming, he didn't really know how. They weren't even all coming from the front now, but from the back, possessing the dead that were lying mere feet away. It was an army of them, r maybe it was still only fifteen. He noticed that none of the demons he was killing were actually dying, they just kept moving just a bit faster than he was. They were leaving their vessels as he filled them with Grace, moving onto another vessel before he had a chance to burn them out.
He dropped his blade. It was slowing him down, it wasn't what he needed. There was a stronger attack he could muster, but it took both hands. He put them together and let the Grace grow, a glowing white ball erupting between his fingertips. There was no way a demon could escape this mass exorcism.
The energy faded and Castiel fell to his knees, his own blade sitting snugly between his ribs. The demons cackled and leered around him as his Grace dripped from his body along with Jimmy's blood.

Dean was the first to wake up. His hands were bound over his head, his feet off of the ground and he was swinging slightly. Sammy wasn't bound at all, lying on his side on the other side of the room, unconscious. He wanted to call out, wake his brother up, but he could hear them in the next room over. The demons were talking about something important and they sounded smug, all about one. He strained his ears but he couldn't hear what they were saying.
He looked over as the sound of hard breathing and slow dripping hit the floor. Cas had come for them. He was standing against the wall, blood and Grace leaking from his gut in equal amounts and he was pale from the loss of it. His hands had been pierced with his blade, stabbed into the wall behind him.
"Cas?" Dean whispered and, while the angel did turn to look over at him, he didn't slow his breathing. "Cas, you okay?"
"Don't ask. Stupid questions." He murmured.
"Is there any way out?"
"Not from me. I'm stuck here."
Of course he was. The angel blade was the only thing that could kill him and he was nailed to a wall with it. Their only choice was to wait until Sam to wake up. Before that was possible though the door opened and a well dressed woman walked in, followed by the large group of demons. She did not look as happy as they had obviously expected her to do. She looked from on to the other of their captors and then, with a flash, all of the demons were gone.
They flickered and shined like when they were stabbed with a demon blade, but there hadn't been a movement, the demon in front only blinking to make it happen. Whoever she was, she was a tough bitch. She didn't even seemed to notice when their meat suits fell to her feet, black ooze dribbling out of their mouths.
She looked from Sam on the floor to Dean, glaring all of the while before turning to the one demon left standing at her side. "This is what you called me for? You summoned me for this?"
No. She wasn't happy at all.
"They're the Winchesters!" the demon pleaded, terror in their black eyes, "They've got the biggest price on their heads in Hell!"
"You think I care about a measly bounty?" she almost screamed, "You know what will happen if we take them, yes? If we kill them? Heaven will send a garrison down and we will all be smited!"
The demon took a step back, trying to make itself as small as possible. "We thought you would be pleased!"
"With these boys? No. Heaven has plans for them and they will destroy anything that gets in the way of that."
Castiel coughed, his body trembling. For the first time the woman noticed him. "Who are you?" she demanded, walking forward until her face was inches away from his. The hairs at the back of Dean's neck tickled as they stood on end. He wanted to grab her, get her away from Cas. He was his angel, as odd as that sounded, and he didn't like how threatening she was by being near him.
"He's an angel." The small demon replied, "He guards the Winchesters."
"Yes, I can see that." She glared for a moment before returning her gaze to Cas. "But which one."
"Castiel." Cas croaked, blood staining his teeth.
"Hmm, you don't seem to be doing very well Castiel." She admitted, patting the bloody wound in his ribs.
She turned back to her subordinate and for once did not seem condescending, "Good work. I'd like to know more about Heaven's plans and there's no better to tell us than an angel. I'll take him and spare your life but if you ever try something like this, Lord Lucifer, if I hear you even approached the Winchesters again, I will put you on my rack."
The demon bowed to that before darting away, "Yes, Sir Baal, of course, Sir Baal."
She studied Cas as he trembled and looked ill, losing blood and Grace far too quickly.
"Get away from him." Dean growled.
"Little soldier boy, you are in no position to tell me what to do." She didn't even look at him as she ran a hand down Cas's stubbly cheek. He tried to turn away from her but he couldn't, whimpering in the pain of trying. "Do you even know who I am? I am Baal, Lord of the badlands, the desert of despair. You are an ant beneath my heel."
"A pretty important ant it seems. Sorry, lady, but I'm not impressed by your sad little desert. Doesn't sound like much to rule over anyway." He tried not to pay attention to how pale Cas had gotten, how poorly he was holding onto consciousness. He kept his eyes on Baal and tried not to wet his pants in fear, "What are you going to do to him?"
Dean's eyes left her for a moment, just one to glance over at Sam. He was starting to move again, starting to wake up. He would be quiet when he did, Dean knew that, he wouldn't do anything to let this demon, Baal, know that he was awake, that he could pose any sort of threat. Sam was good like that. He'd been trained well.
"I'm going to take him down to Hell with me, put him on my rack, learn everything I need to know about the Heavenly host. Learn how to kill angels." She crooned and she leaned even closer to Cas looking like a lover, kissing his cheek. It was an oddly comforting motion paired with the cruelty of the threats.
"No." Dean was shaking, "Don't. Please don't. Cas is, he couldn't survive down there, he doesn't know anything anyway, he's been fighting with us instead. Please leave him alone."
"He still has a lot to teach, even if he doesn't know what Heaven's planning."
"I don't care!" Dean was screaming now and Sam was completely awake, lying on his side the same way he had been, his eyes barely open to take in what was happening, "I say you will not take him, I beg you not to take him. I don't care if Heaven has a plan for me. You can take me to Hell. Just, just leave Cas alone."
"Dean." Cas gasped, looking at Dean as best he could. There was fear in his eyes and pain and sorrow, but all of that was nothing compared to how he looked like he couldn't understand Dean.
"I know, Cas, I know. It's going to be okay. I'm fine with going to Hell. I've been there before. But you, you've done so much for me, you're my brother, I'm not going to let her take you."
She chuckled at this, "Dean. It doesn't matter what you will or won't let me do, I will take the angel with me. I've already decided that I want him."
"You want him?"
"Yes Dean. I want him. I want to be the first to break an angel. Seeing him here, I don't think it will be anywhere near as hard as we all expect."
She kissed Cas then, right on the lips and Dean strained against his bindings, trying to get at her. Cas was never comfortable around demons, why should he be, and now one was sticking her tongue down his throat. Cas was bucking, regardless of the pain he was in, trying to get away from her, but she held fast. Dean was screaming, a mixture of curses and threats and pleads coming from him. He didn't know what she was doing, but it was definitely having an effect. Cas's eyes rolled back in his head as the veins around his mouth turned black, visible through the skin. The darkness travelled through him, everywhere it touching relaxing and falling slack. His eyelids were heavy and his breathing slowed and softened. He wasn't healing, he was closer to just being paralyzed.
"Please." Dean was begging through the tears on his face, "Leave him. Take me instead. Please."
She wasn't listening though. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled the angel blade out from his long and bloody hands. Her touch still seemed gentle, even though she was holding him up by the hair, and without much effort she was dragging him out of the room. He wasn't moving, hardly even breathing but even then his eyes caught Dean's and the hunter was screaming again, begging her to let him go.
She wasn't listening though and she continued to drag him out of the old house.
As soon as they had left the room Sam was on his feet and over to Dean unbinding him.
"Get him, Sammy, please." Dean's face was soaking wet, "You can come back for me but you've got to save him. You have to."
"Yeah, yeah, Dean." Sam wasn't leaving him though, he just kept working at those knots, "We'll get him back, I've got to get you out first."
"No!" Dean's eyes were pleading, puffy, and red, "He's in a body, Sam, she's going to take that to Hell too and that takes more time! Go get him before she gets him down to Hell!"
Sam nodded, understanding finally, and left his brother there.

Sam kept his eyes open as he ran, knowing that he didn't stand a chance against Baal. He had no weapon, no demon blood running through his veins, not even a bag of salt. He was racing through the dead, demon and man alike, all of the rich that had come to the event. It didn't take long for him to notice the knife there, fallen to the ground. He grabbed it and kept going.
Outside, Baal hadn't gone far. She was just down the road, Castiel in one hand and a dead body in the other. When she found a good spot of road that she liked she stopped, dropping both of them. Sam saw her from a distance and stuck to the shadows, not wanting to be caught too soon.
She grabbed the dead man and ripped off a chunk, an arm and dipped a torn off chunk of her white dress into the blood before drawing a circle onto the road. It wasn't large but Sam knew it was going to be a sigil.
"You don't have to hide from me Sam." She chuckled as she worked, "I know you're there."
Sam walked up to her, positioned himself between her and Castiel's dormant frame.
"I'm here to make a deal." He said, trying to control the rage and desire building up inside of him. She was a big demon; he wanted to know what she tasted like.
"Sorry, hon, I'm not a crossroads demon and this, this isn't a crossroads."
"You let him go and I won't kill you." He offered.
"That's cute, but I doubt your special powers are working right now. How long has it been since you drank? Long enough I think."
She hadn't seen the knife then, he was at least glad of that. It was behind him, holstered into his waistband. He inched towards her. She wasn't paying attention; too busy drawing the long dead symbols onto the ground.
"Well, I guess you're right about that." Sam admitted, right behind her.
She turned then, not expecting him to be so quiet and impaled herself on the blade in Sam's hands. She flickered and looked down at it for a moment before her skeleton flashed underneath her skin and she fell dead to the ground.
The knife was covered in blood. Demon blood. How easy it would be for him just to have a little taste. She looked delicious. She looked like she'd give him power. His hands were shaking. It would be so easy to lick the blood off of the knife. So easy to drink her dry.
But there was a high pitched whining; the sound of an abused dog and it was calling to him, the hideous sound distracting him from drinking all that glorious power.
Castiel was useless. He couldn't speak or move or breathe freely, but he was whining, getting Sam's attention. He couldn't drink that blood. Cas needed him, needed him to make him safe. Dean needed him to have his head in the game, to help him stop the apocalypse. Sam needed him too, most of all, he needed himself. He needed to stay human.
He wiped the blood onto his jeans before slipping it back into his waistband and grabbing a hold of Cas's arms, pulling him up and against his chest. "Okay, Cas, okay, I've got you. You're safe."
He went back into the house, carrying Cas with him and cut Dean down. He'd doubted he'd ever seen Dean so relieved before.

Two days later and Cas was still not moving. Bobby sat over him, lying in the panic room, and tried to figure out what was happening, but Cas didn't seem to be getting any better. In his wheelchair it was hard for him to go up and down the stairs, so he had a temporary cot moved down there so he could sleep by Cas's side.
He wished he'd made the room bigger. It was too small for him, Cas, and those two idjits that kept checking up on them. Sam was alright, he came and went, bringing water and beer and food. Dean though, man it could make your heart ache how he looked at that angel. He stayed for hours, just sitting beside Cas on the bed, singing his daddy's songs under his breath and talking to him, trying to snap him out of it. It was obvious that Cas was listening, he always listened to Dean, but he wasn't moving, wasn't getting any better.
"I think we're going to have to bleed him." Bobby sighed, receiving an incredulous look from Dean.
"Bleed him? What are you talking about?" Dean would hate the idea, of course he would, but it was the only thing Bobby could think of.
"Well, as I see it. The only thing wrong with Cas is that his bloods all demonized. Remove the bad blood and he should be fine."
"Fine? He won't have any blood!"
"He's an angel! He can survive something like that."
Dean bit his lip but he kept his eyes on Cas. "Cas, blink twice for yes, okay? Could you survive that?"
It took a long time and a lot of energy to be sure, but Cas did end up blinking twice.
"Okay, I'm going to need a bucket, no two, a good knife, and a beer."
Dean nodded and left the room, fetching him what he needed.
"Sorry about this, Feathers," Bobby whispered in Cas's ears, "this is probably going to hurt like a son of a gun, but it needs doing."
The handcuffs were still attached to the bed frame so he trapped Cas's hands in them, keeping him there. He didn't want the angel squirming when he had control of his body again.
Dean didn't like that, of course, but he didn't say anything. He just placed a bucket under either of Cas's wrists and slit them himself. Blackness oozed out of the gashes and dripped like syrup into the buckets, making a thick plopping sound. As Cas bled he stroked him, fingers ruffling his hair and a hand on his shoulder, comforting. He whispered into his ear, promises and sweet things. If it hadn't been so heartbreaking Bobby would have labeled it as vomit inducing.
When Cas could finally breathe, finally move, the first thing he did was whimper. That was quickly followed by a scream. As his blood and the blackness dripped from him he shook and squirmed and shrieked in agony, sounds no angel ought to make. Bobby knew what was coming though, a real scream, a real angel's scream. That would leave them all deaf.
Bobby ripped off his belt and pressed it between Cas's teeth, quieting him slightly and giving him something to bite into. Poor kid. He didn't care how old Castiel was; he was still a kid in Bobby's mind.
"What's happening?" Sam shouted as he ran into the room. His eyes fell onto Cas's squirming form.
"Help hold him down!" Bobby ordered.
Sam obeyed, grabbing Cas by the shoulders and forcing them down into the mattress.  Bobby glared at Dean and he followed suit, pushing Cas down by the hips. The chains were ripping apart in the handcuffs and Bobby was worried he'd soon be up and moving, the black ooze going everywhere.
"What's wrong with him?" Dean screamed and Bobby grabbed onto one wrist, showing him. The gash was smoking, a fire in his veins and it billowed out. Dean didn't know how he'd stayed silent this long.
"This shit's poison, obviously." Bobby rolled his eyes. There wasn't much else he could do.
What seemed to be hours later Cas finally collapsed, his eyes closed. He had run out of blood and he'd finally stopped smoking. He wasn't breathing though. Sam let go of him first, letting Dean smother him like a worried mother.
"Cas?" Dean shook him by the lapels of his coat, "Cas, come on, you said you could handle this, come on!"
Cas breathed, his eyes opening, and the belt fell from his chapped lips. It had been bitten completely through. It had been a new belt too.
"Dean, I'm alright. I'm fine." He reassured him.
Sam stepped back even further, raising his eyebrows at Bobby as if to point out how completely domestic  the two of them had gotten with one another.
"What happened?"
"Sam saved me."
"I know that, but how?" Dean looked over at his brother, "Please tell me how you saved him Sammy."
"I didn't drink demon blood if that's what you're asking." He seemed a bit insulted at that, "I used the knife."
Dean turned back to Cas, who nodded, "It's true. You have to keep an eye on him though, he was close."
Sam sat down on the bed beside Cas, "You stopped me, Cas. I saw you and well, I couldn't drink the stuff. I didn't want to let you guys down."
Dean clasped his back and now Bobby knew he was going to be ill, "Someone want to get me out of here before this chick flick makes me vomit? God, ya idjits are sickening."
Sam laughed though and wheeled him out, carrying him and his chair up the stairs.
"You had us all worried." Dean smiled, uncomfortably.
"My apologies." Cas couldn't quite make eye contact. "What you said back there."
"I meant every word."
"Why?"
"You've done nothing to deserve Hell. I've been there before and what I did there is enough to condemn me all over again. I've killed innocents since then, tortured my own brother, did horrible things. You don't deserve any bit of Hell."
"You think I'm an innocent?" there was so much contempt in Cas's voice that Dean had to look up, look into those piercing blue eyes, "I have killed my brothers, I have rebelled against Heaven, broken the rules of my father. I deserve Hell more than any other."
"Don't say that." Dean was starting to choke up, yes he knew all about what Cas was talking about, but none of it was Cas's fault. He'd done all of those things for Dean. He just wanted to do something in return, do something to earn it. "You can't really have that low of an opinion of yourself?"
"Why can't I? You display the same opinion of yourself."