A/N: Sorry for disappearing for a week after promising some one shots. I came down with a nasty cold bug. I'm still not fully over it, but I'm gonna drag myself to work tomorrow regardless. However, since I think I'm gonna have enough trouble getting up in the morning, I decided to just post this now instead of rushing or skipping it tomorrow.

I've been playing a lot with photomanips, and the cover for this actually came before the fic, but after I made it, I knew I had to write a story to go with it. XD It's small on this site, but I'll be posting it to my tumblr so you can see it better.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!

"Keepsake Angel"

Dean sat at the map table and stared at the board tacked with dead end leads upon dead end leads on Kelly Kline. It was getting ridiculous.

Across from him, Cas was also gazing at the clippings morosely. The angel always took it as a personal failure when he couldn't find any real sign of the missing woman carrying Lucifer's kid.

Dean was starting to itch for another case, just so they could accomplish something.

Cas's brow suddenly furrowed, and he reached a hand up to his temple.

Dean straightened. "Something on angel radio?" Maybe the mooks upstairs had found a lead.

Cas's expression pinched further. "An angel calling for help. It's so faint, though…I can't tell who it is."

Oh, hell no. That was not the kind of case Dean meant he wanted.

"You think Lily's at it again?" he asked. She'd seemed genuine when she said she'd stop killing angels the other week.

Cas shook his head. "The only angel left she would be holding a grudge against is me. She has no reason to attack someone else. Besides, this angel is…weak." He abruptly got to his feet. "I have to go. I don't think they're far from here."

"Whoa," Dean snapped, jumping up as well. "You are not going off on your own with this one. Sam!"

Cas gave him a long-suffering look, but didn't argue.

Sam came rushing into the war room a moment later. "What?"

Dean gestured to Cas and said grudgingly, "Cas got another mayday from an angel."

Sam flicked his gaze between the two of them. "What kind of mayday?"

"I don't know," Cas replied. "It was only a call for help."

"Yeah, and that worked out so well last time," Dean grumbled. He hated cases with angels.

"I can't just ignore it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dean muttered. "But you're not rushing into a potential trap on your own. Let me and Sam get our gear and we'll all go."

And even if he hated cases with angels, at least it was a case.

It wasn't far, either, just a few counties over, and they arrived in the town Cas said the SOS had come from in less than an hour.

"We're getting closer," Cas said, leaning forward in the backseat and pointing left out the windshield. Dean made the turn, then another, until Cas told him to stop outside a house with a foreclosure sign in the front yard.

Dean gave the place a wary look. Abandoned locations never boded well.

The back door opened as Cas climbed out, and Dean scrambled to keep up with him so he didn't go barging into the place. But Cas canted his head to the side, squinting at the house.

"I can sense the angel, but barely." He started toward the door.

Dean reached into his jacket for his angel blade, just to be safe, as he and Sam followed. When they reached the front door, Dean pushed ahead of Cas so he could enter first. He heard the angel let out a huff behind him, but Dean didn't care. He wasn't taking any chances after Ishim and with those 'cosmic consequences' still looming over them.

The door wasn't locked—red flag number one. Inside, the place had been stripped of furniture, revealing patches of torn carpet and sockets in the walls with exposed wires where outlets were missing. It looked like someone had started a remodel they'd never finished.

Dean went left to do a sweep of the immediate rooms, while in his peripheral vision he saw Sam go right. Cas went right down the middle, fixated on his single-minded goal as usual.

But there was no sign of anyone there.

"Maybe in the back bedrooms?" Sam suggested quietly.

Cas turned to cross the living room toward the hall, but when he stepped right in the middle of the room, a bolt of lightning suddenly forked down from the ceiling, enveloping him.

Dean instinctively threw his arm up against the blinding light and crack of fire in the air, even as his heart lurched.

The fizzle died down, and Dean jerked his arm away from his eyes to desperately search out Cas. He was gone, with a crystal ball in the middle of the floor where he'd been standing. A sigil Dean hadn't seen when he'd come in was simmering on the ceiling directly above. What the hell? That wasn't an angel banishing sigil, plus no one had activated it.

Dean exchanged an alarmed look with Sam, and then cautiously approached the orb. As he drew closer, he spotted movement inside the sphere, and his brows shot upward. "Cas?"

Inside the crystal ball, a miniaturized Cas was slowly pushing himself up on his hands and knees. Dean dropped down to the floor and snatched the orb up to get a better look.

"What the crap."

Cas pressed his palms to the glass and looked up at him.

"Oh man," Sam uttered, looking as flabbergasted as Dean felt. "What the hell was that?"

"How the hell should I know?" he retorted, and lifted the sphere to peer directly at it. "Cas?"

Cas jerked away from him, and Dean winced as he realized he probably looked like a giant bearing down on the angel. And…ugh, Cas was probably getting a front row seat to Dean's nose hairs.

He quickly lowered the ball away from his face. "Okay, so this was definitely a trap." And they'd still walked into it. "But does this sound like angel to you?" he asked his brother.

Sam furrowed his brow as he studied the orb. "I don't know…"

"Abi!"

Dean's feet got swept out from under him as he and Sam were flung through the air. They hit the far wall and crashed to the floor, the orb flying from Dean's hand and rolling across the carpet. Heels clacked on exposed hardwood as a woman strolled into the living room.

Dean blinked spots from his vision as a manicured hand reached down and picked up the crystal ball. Dammit, if there was one thing he hated more than angel cases, it was witch ones.

"Hello, angel," she purred, stroking the sphere. Wavy blond hair cascaded down her shoulders. She turned toward the Winchesters. "I didn't expect you to come with company, and hunters no less. But no matter. I got what I needed."

Dean started lurching to his feet to fight back, but before he could fully make it upright, the woman uttered a few indecipherable words, and in a flash of light, she was gone. With Cas.

o.0.o

Castiel was flung back and forth against the sides of the orb as a whirlwind of smoke and light obstructed his view of what was happening. The chaos abruptly cleared, but his surroundings continued to blur as he was carried swiftly across a room. He finally landed in a slump in the concave curve of the sphere as it was plunked down on a hard, flat surface. The massive shadow of the witch moved away, and Castiel pushed himself upright.

The space inside the orb was cramped, with not even enough room for him to stand. He'd been set on a shelf with a sweeping view of what appeared to be a workroom full of a myriad of witchcraft paraphernalia, hex bags, and spell ingredients. Said witch was currently nowhere in sight.

How had a witch managed to capture him like this? Balancing himself on his knees, Castiel held a palm out toward the glass and summoned his grace. Blue light filled the sphere, and Castiel unleashed an explosive burst of power.

But instead of the energy shattering the orb like he'd expected, it crashed into the glass and washed up and over like coruscating bands of water. The crystal walls pulsed, and Castiel suddenly felt a tug on his grace. His power wasn't just being deflected by the sphere—it was being absorbed.

He wrenched himself away, cutting off the power flow, and collapsed back against the curve again, winded from shock and the unexpected drain on his grace.

"You shouldn't expend your strength," a frail voice spoke up, somewhat muffled.

Castiel rolled onto his hands and knees and scooted toward the front of the sphere to look out. He hadn't noticed before with the rest of the clutter, but sitting on a table in the middle of the room was an antique pedestal with another crystal ball resting on top. Inside, Castiel could make out a wizened figure curled up in the orb's depression, suit as discolored as his aged face and white hair. Castiel peered closer as he detected a faint signature of grace. His eyes widened.

"Amos."

The angel was barely recognizable, grace as thin and worn as his vessel—which had features Castiel remembered from when he'd last seen Amos, but his vessel had been young and fit back in the war against Raphael.

"What happened to you?" he blurted.

Amos turned his head slightly toward him. "The Fall," he said bitterly, voice soft over the distance and with their reduced size, but celestial hearing made up for it. The angel squinted. "Castiel?" He let out a snort. "I don't know whether to pity you, or call it justice that you are to take my place."

Castiel's chest constricted. Every time he was met with derision and hate from his siblings was like barbed wire grated over open wounds that never fully healed.

"I heard your distress call," he said. "I came to help."

Amos chuffed out a wheezing sound. "I sent no call. This prison is absolute. I'm even cut off from Heaven, which is why I've been unable to keep my vessel and grace regenerated after the witch drains it. She was the one who sent that call, channeling my grace. To catch herself a replacement."

Castiel's stomach knotted with dread. "What do you mean?"

"After I was injured in the Fall, the witch managed to capture me. She has been using me as a source of power ever since, but being cut off from Heaven, my reserves are not limitless. I am dying." Amos fell silent for a moment, then asked more softly, "How long has it been?"

Castiel swallowed. "Three years."

Amos closed his eyes. "Three years," he murmured. "I would have thought more."

Castiel pressed his palms to the glass. "There must be a way out of here, for both of us," he said fervently. Sam and Dean would be looking for him, at least. Though, whether they had any chance of actually finding him was another matter…

"Don't you think I tried that?" Amos retorted. "Any power you expend will just be absorbed. You'll last longer if you don't use it. Not that you can stop her from taking what she wants when she wants."

Castiel gritted his teeth and braced himself on his knees. He was not going to give up without a fight. Mustering his grace again, he held the power back until it built up to maximum capacity, and then shot it toward the glass shield with all his might. Divine power splashed across the sphere and lit the entire thing up so that now its edges were swirling with captured energy.

Castiel rocked back on his haunches, breathing heavily.

Amos snorted. "You never did do as you were told."

Castiel's jaw tightened. Despite the hostility, he was still determined to find a way to get them both out of here. The thought that Amos had been a prisoner of the witch for the past three years, essentially serving as a battery for her evil doings, it was enough to drive any angel to the brink of madness.

Castiel wracked his brain for other options, yet before he could think of any, the witch swept into the room. She went straight to the table and laid a hand on the orb containing Amos.

"Sorry, pet, but you're all used up." Her lips twitched into a devilish smile. "Well, almost."

"Let him go if he's no more use to you!" Castiel shouted.

The witch didn't seem to hear him; apparently leeching off an angel didn't enhance her own hearing.

The orb began to glow, and inside it so did Amos. The angel threw his head back with a scream as a pendant around the witch's neck glowed blue in sync with the pulsing grace.

Castiel pounded his fists against his prison in helpless fury.

The flare inside the sphere intensified, until it finally exploded, but not even that shockwave could break the glass.

"No!" Castiel watched in horror as the light faded, revealing charcoal wing prints staining the inside of the glass ball.

The witch plucked the orb off the pedestal and dropped it in a nearby waste bin as if it were nothing. As if she hadn't just extinguished the life of a celestial creature.

Then she turned toward Castiel, eyes lighting up with excitement.

He could do nothing as she strode over and picked him up, the abrupt movement jostling his balance. She carried him over and set the sphere on the pedestal, clicking it into place. The moment it did, Castiel felt a shift in the power swirling through the glass, a conduit opening up.

"Let's see what you've got," the witch said with relish, laying her hand on top of the ball.

The glass flared with the trapped power, but at the same time, Castiel felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him, and his grace was lighting up as well. He dropped to his hands and knees, eyes glowing hot with an explosion of blue.

o.0.o

"We are never going to help an angel again."

Sam refrained from rolling his eyes and ignored Dean's ongoing tirade, focusing instead on the ingredients he'd set out on the table, double checking them with the spell book he'd pulled off the bunker's shelf.

"Did you find one of Cas's feathers?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied, and produced a small bit of black down. "I found several wedged between the seats in the back of the Impala. Gonna have to vacuum every time Cas rides with us."

Though his tone and words were gruff, Sam knew his brother was just worried. They both were. There was no telling what a witch would want with an angel, but it couldn't be good. And was she working with an angel? Someone had sent that distress call to Cas. So had he been targeted specifically, or just happened to be the one to show up first?

Whatever the answers, the Winchesters needed to find him, fast.

Sam took a deep breath. "Okay, let's do this."

He'd never performed a tracking spell before, and wasn't even one hundred percent sure it would work. But they had to try something. It probably would have been better to have a real witch cast it, but Rowena wouldn't be able to get here fast enough—if she'd be willing to help at all.

Sam had done a fair amount of reading on the spells the Men of Letters had created, and thought he could at least make something like this work. He was a legacy, after all.

Picking up the feather, he held it over the bowl and recited the incantation, then dropped the plumage into the bowl. There was a pop and crackle, followed by an oozing of smoke. Sam swayed and shot his hands out to grab the edges of the table as foreign sensations slammed into his brain.

"Sam?" Dean called worriedly.

"I'm okay." He breathed sharply through his nose. "I got it." He could see the house in his mind's eye, then the street number. It was weird, just having the sense of where the location was without an actual map. "Okay," he breathed. "Same town. Much be the witch's home base."

Dean quickly pivoted toward the stairs. "Let's go."

Sam hurried to keep up, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness from the spell. He hoped he was right…

Dean barely obeyed the speed limits as they barreled back toward the town they'd been ambushed at. Sam had plugged the house number and street into the GPS and directed Dean where to go once they'd arrived. Cas had been in the witch's clutches for a few hours now, and Sam was trying not to think the worst.

The house was set in the middle of a quiet suburban neighborhood, but the Winchesters were still cautious as they crossed the street and quickly climbed the porch steps. Sam gave the doorknob a subtle twist. Locked. He raised his eyebrows at Dean, who nodded and pulled out his lock picks. Sam kept watch as his brother made quick work and the door soon snicked open. Then they swept inside, pulling their guns as they entered.

The living room and kitchen were empty, so they ventured further into the house. Sam pulled up short at the sound of bottles faintly clinking, and signaled Dean to stop moving. They both listened, homing in on the noise. There was a door cracked open at the end of the hall that looked like it went down to the basement. Lights were on down there.

Exchanging a nod, they pushed their way inside. The blond chick from before was at a counter mixing up some hex bags, and startled when they burst inside. Her gaze immediately snapped to the side, and Sam caught a glimpse of a crystal ball on the center table. That was apparently all Dean needed, because two shots cracked the air in the next instant, and the witch went down.

Stowing their guns, Sam and Dean rushed over to the table where they found a trench coated angel slumped inside the crystal ball.

"Cas!" Dean stopped at the edge of the table and looked helplessly at the ball, then back at the dead witch.

Crap, wasn't killing the witch supposed to break the spells she'd cast?

Cas pushed himself up onto his knees and pressed his palms to the inside of the glass, looking up at them.

"Um…" Sam swallowed. "Should we…smash it?"

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticked as he carefully picked up the pedestal. He looked ready to try it, but suddenly Cas went rigid and the orb flared with blue light.

"Shit," Dean muttered. "Is that a no?"

Movement caught Sam's eye, and he jerked in dismay to find the witch slowly getting up off the floor. A tiny spherical pendant around her neck was glowing blue, and the bullet wounds in her chest were swiftly healing, until no sign of them remained.

She rolled out a crick in her neck.

Sam and Dean gaped at her. What the…they'd used witch killing bullets!

Her eyes narrowed on them. "I'll be taking my angel back now."

"Like hell," Dean spat, clutching tightly to the pedestal.

She gave them a simpering moue. "Oh, hon, you have no idea what you're up against."

The crystal ball began to glow once more, as did her necklace. She flicked her wrist at them, and they both went sailing through the air, crashing into the wall and smashing some of the shelves. Broken glass rained down on Sam as he hit the floor, but the orb Cas was trapped in remained undamaged. It continued to glow as the witch bore down on them.

Oh, crap, was she somehow channeling Cas's grace?

Sam was still smarting from the fall, as was Dean, who was unable to keep hold of the pedestal and orb as the witch marched over and snatched it away from him.

"I let you live before because my previous angel was running low on juice," she said. "But now that I've got a brand new shiny one, I can incinerate you here on the spot."

Previous angel? Oh shit, the one who'd called for help?

That had to come later, though. Sam rolled to the side and into an upright position. The witch merely shot an irritated glare at him, and with a flick of her wrist, he went slamming into the wall again. The wind whooshed from his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath.

Dean leaped to his feet and pulled out his angel blade. If she was harnessing angelic energy, maybe an angel weapon could kill her.

But just as he lunged to stab her, her pendant flared brighter, and Dean came to a jolting stop, blade raised mid-strike. His cheeks puffed red with exertion as he fought against her unyielding power.

The witch smirked, and raised her other hand to start twirling her finger. Dean's eyes blew wide as his arm started to angle down, the point of the angel blade turning toward him instead. The witch grinned wider.

Sam blinked spots from his vision, desperately grasping for something he could do. But as long as she was juiced up on Cas's grace, she was practically unstoppable.

Chest hitching, Sam pulled out his gun and aimed. The blade was getting closer to Dean's stomach, and Sam had one shot at this. The small pendant glowed like a beacon.

Sam squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit the pendant, and the witch screamed as the impact flung her backwards. Dean instantly crumpled, the angel blade clattering to the floor. The pedestal dropped from the witch's hand, and as soon as the glass orb struck the floor, it shattered in a bright explosion of light and glass.

Sam threw his arm over his head to shield it, and when he looked up a second later, Cas was full size again and lying in the middle of crystal shards.

A harsh gasp snapped his attention back to the witch as she stumbled against the wall. Her hand shot up to her throat where her pendant no longer hung, having been utterly obliterated by Sam's shot. She whipped a furious gaze toward him.

"No!" she shrieked, lunging like a mad woman.

Dean snatched up the angel blade again and intercepted her, driving the celestial steel straight into her heart. A startled gasp punched past her lips as her eyes blew wide.

"Let's see you walk that off," Dean grunted as he yanked the blade out and let her body drop to the floor.

Sam pushed himself up and rushed over to Cas, dropping down next to him and grabbing his shoulder. "Cas? Hey, you okay?"

Cas's head lolled dazedly as he squinted up at Sam. "I think so," he said roughly. He tried to lift his head to look around. "The witch…?"

Dean came over to join them, reaching out for Cas's other shoulder. Together, he and Sam pulled the angel up into a sitting position. "Ganked. Hopefully she stays dead this time. She's not tapped into your grace anymore, right?"

Cas swayed slightly once upright, and gave a small head shake. "No. Just with…that thing."

Sam nodded. "Both the orb and pendant are destroyed."

"Yeah, nice shot there," Dean added, flashing Sam a proud grin.

His mouth quirked in response, but then he quickly sobered as they helped Cas stand, the angel's balance still precarious.

"I'm alright," he told them, as though sensing their worry.

"You sure?" Dean asked.

Cas started to nod, then seemed to think better of it as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Just…drained."

"Well, let's get out of here."

"Wait." Cas pulled away from them and stumbled toward a small trash can under the table. Bracing himself on the table's edge, he reached down to pick up another crystal ball.

Sam stiffened. "Is that gonna help bring her back?" He shot a look at the witch's body, but she remained unmoving.

"No," Cas said solemnly. "There's no power in this one anymore."

That's when Sam saw the charred streaks on the glass, and his eyes widened when he realized they were wings. "So there was an angel who called for help."

Cas shook his head. "No, that was the witch. She used the grace of the angel she'd held captive for the past three years to lure in a replacement. He was barely still alive, and she still made sure to drain every last drop before killing him."

Sam's mouth turned down at Cas's obvious grief. "I'm sorry, Cas."

Cas set the orb on the table and held his hand out over it. "I probably couldn't have saved him anyway," he said quietly. A moment later, the orb burst into flames, and a few moments after that, nothing was left but a few bits of sparkling dust.

Cas swayed abruptly, and Dean surged forward to catch him.

"Okay, that's enough. Let's get you home."

Cas gave him a wan smile. "Yes, please."

Sam moved in to take his other arm, and together they helped Cas up the stairs and out of that wretched house back to the Impala.

And if a few feathers ended up tucked into the backseat, Sam didn't think Dean was going to complain.