Smoke

Dean twisted his body, feeling the pull in his stomach muscles and down through his thighs. No dice. He couldn’t get enough leverage.

“Dean.”

Cas’ voice was weak, far too weak, and he’d pretty much stopped moving. His eyes were still open, though, just a glimmer, and fixed on Dean.

“Can it, Cas,” Dean said. “I can get free.”

A faint crinkle of Castiel’s brow was all the response that got. The guy had made his opinion clear an hour ago, back when Dean had come to with his arms stretched above his head and his wrists circled in iron. Bespelled iron. Cas had spilled such an in depth, doom-laden description of the damn things that it had taken Dean nearly twenty minutes to realise Cas was clutching his stomach, and that light was seeping out past his fingers.

It wasn’t just the chain round his neck keeping Cas in place.

Another attempt got Dean nowhere. Balanced on the balls of his feet to get any purchase at all, he just couldn’t make it work. Besides, Cas was adamant that the spells etched into the manacles would hold Dean until someone released him, and Sam didn’t even know where they were. Dean didn’t know where they were.

He’d asked Cas if his angel-GPS was working, and Cas had grimaced and looked away. Not that they had any way to get a message to Sam if Cas had known.

Dean thew a glance at Cas only to see his eyes slide shut.

“Hey! Hey, keep awake, Cas!” Dean said. “I am not getting stuck with Sleeping Beauty. You hear me?”

Cas mumbled something and opened his eyes. It was only just enough to be sure the angel was alive, but Dean had no choice but to take it.

“Hang on in there,” Dean said. “Sam’ll find us. He’ll come get us and we’ll patch you up. Just don’t you die on me.”

Without looking to move a muscle, Cas looked so sad at that, so utterly sorry, that Dean felt his insides turn chill.

“No! You are not dying. Not today.” That got no reaction. “Fuck you, Cas! You die and me and I’ll ram that blade of yours so far-”

Cas moved, turning his head so it pressed into the crook of the arm he had sprawled out along the floor, and Dean cut off. Like that, with his eyes hidden, the only clue he had that Cas was still with him was the fact the guy’s other hand was still splayed across his own stomach. The minute that hand slipped…

When he couldn’t rouse Cas by shouting, Dean took to staring at that hand.

Sam had to work out where they were. They’d tracked each other down on practically nothing before, and whatever had got the jump on them, it had to have left some clues. Sam would find them. And Dean would get out of these damn chains. And Cas would be fine.

Cas had to be fine.

With his own breaths harsh in his ear, it took Dean a while to register the sounds coming from Cas. Words. Muffled, indistinguishable, but words.

“What are you saying? Is it a spell? You gotta spell?”

Cas ignored him, spilling words into his own arm.

Dean waited, tension pulling at him, until he couldn’t take it any more.

“Cas! What are you saying?”

Finally, Cas turned his head, just enough that one eye peered up at Dean. His voice grated small and faint as he answered.

“A prayer. To anyone who’ll help you.”

There was something wavering about Cas’ words, like he wasn’t all there.

“Us. Who’ll help us,” Dean said, that chill turning to a sick shiver. “And your dick brothers ain’t gonna do squat to help us. Anyone good is gone.”

He didn’t need to see Cas flinch to know he’d gone too far, but fuck it. Those bastards had kept chewing Cas up and spitting him out, ragged and bleeding, and every time they clicked their fingers Cas ended up dragging himself back. And from what Dean could tell, the last time Cas asked for help he got strung up like Dean was now, and tortured.

No. There was no help coming from the Host.

Cas sighed, and his hand slipped, hitting the concrete and letting the light curl out from his wound. It was a larger gash than Dean had realized. A human would have lost the fight by now, lying there on that floor with no help.

“No. No, no, no.” Dean said, the denial leaving his lips without his permission. “Don’t you do this. Don’t do this to me.”

Panic loaned him the strength to jerk his body, trying to pull the chains from their tether above Dean’s head. If he could get down, if he could reach Cas, he could keep that Grace in himself. Until Sam found them. Cas could sleep, and Dean would keep him there.

A sob crowded his throat.

“Cas, don’t…”

All movement was gone now, the angel still and silent on the floor.

Sam hadn’t found them in time. Sam hadn’t found them, and Cas was… Cas was…

Dean couldn’t finish the thought.