Castiel strains against the silvery ropes holding him to the pillar, desperate and terrified and helpless. "Please, Raphael, brother, please, don't do this," he begs. "I'm the one-"

"Oh, I know," Raphael replies smoothly, turning to face the captive angel. "I've had a while to think about this, all the possible ways I could make you pay penance for what you did. And nothing struck me as quite as... inventive as this." The dark-skinned angel paces away for a moment, then comes back. "I could do all manner of things to your vessel, Castiel. But I know there is nothing that will hurt you more than watching your lover, this human that you love above all else, suffer for what you did, watching him pay the price for your disobedience."

"Cas, don't," Dean says quietly. He's strapped to a rack across the room, arms and legs akimbo, and it hurts Castiel to see him there. "This asshole is going to do what he's going to do." He gives a rakish smile. "He can't do anything to me that hasn't already been done, or didn't you get the memo?" Dean meets Raphael's eyes and the smile becomes a twisted grin. "I spent thirty years with Alistair." Raphael smiles in return, and Castiel feels something start to break inside him at the look in his brother's eyes.

"Torments of the flesh, yes. It's something you're accustomed to. I know this." He steps up close to the hunter, and Castiel can't help but struggle against the ropes again as Raphael reaches up to stroke Dean's cheek. "I'm sure I can show you some things you've never seen before, human." He gestures, like a magician on a stage, and three other angels appear. Castiel glares at them, the expression on his face letting his family know that he'll remember them, that he'll pay them back in kind for what they are about to do. Two of the angels are obviously scornful, but the third glances quickly at him and then away, shame written on her face and in her eyes.

The table they carry is displayed, covered in knives and whips and horrible things Castiel can't name, and Dean forces a laugh that hurts angel's heart to hear. The hunter gives a theatrical yawn, then speaks in a drawling tone. "Are we going to do this, or what? I'm bored already." Raphael's hand swings out, and there is a crack as he slaps Dean across the mouth.

"Mind your tone," the dark-skinned angel says silkily.

"Why, what are you going to do, torture me?" Dean replies, all arrogance. Raphael selects a slender knife and tests the edge against his thumb.

"That's a good place to start, yes," he replies. The angel cuts away Dean's clothing, then starts on his flesh, small, shallow nicks, that allow the blood to flow. As his torso gains a slick coating of red, Dean's expression never wavers from stony contempt, even when the blade is driven deep into the meat of his shoulder and left there. Raphael selects another knife, and another, driving them into Dean's flesh in rapid succession. Raphael steps back, then nods. "Yes, that's good. Nothing that will kill, but I'm sure you're not comfortable."

Dean glares at Raphael. Castiel can see that even the act of breathing is causing his lover torment, shifting the steel inside his flesh, and he wants to scream, to beg, to plead with Raphael to stop, but at that moment hazel eyes meet blue across the room and Dean shakes his head. "This is nothing, Cas," Dean says. "Alistair was way more creative when it came to knives. Picasso with a razor, they called him. This douche bag can't even come close."

"We'll see," Raphael returns in that silky voice as he picks up a skinning knife. He threads his fingers through Dean's hair, holding his head still. He stops for a moment, then shifts his position, looking across at Castiel. "Watch, brother," he says. "I wouldn't want you to miss this." The knife moves, and Castiel can't hold in a whimper as Raphael begins to peel the skin from Dean's face, slowly and with infinite care. The whimper becomes a scream as the knife darts in and one of those beloved hazel eyes is carved out. The blade moves again, accompanied by another scream from the captive angel as Dean is blinded.

"Yes," Raphael purrs, turning towards Castiel. His eyes are all for the angel's pain as he releases Dean's hair and lowers his hand to cup Dean's genitals.

"No, oh, God, please, no," Castiel hears himself say as the knife flashes again. Castiel screams again as Raphael castrates Dean, and he struggles mindlessly, hopelessly, as Raphael tosses the hunter's flesh across the room to land with a wet splat at Castiel's feet.

"This is the price for your disobedience, brother," Raphael says. He turns to the angels and gives instructions that Dean is not allowed to die; that he must remain alive until Raphael can return to continue the torment. With a rustle of feathers, three of the angels depart, leaving Castiel and Dean alone with the female, the one who showed shame. She moves to Dean and a muted white glow surrounds the pair of them. The blood flow is stopped, but she doesn't remove the knives or heal Dean of any of the damage Raphael inflicted.

"How can you sanction this?" Castiel says. "Sister, how can you let him do this?" She shakes her head, then comes to Castiel's pillar and begins to tug at the ropes.

"I cannot disobey," she says softly. To Castiel's surprise, she's untied him and he steps away from the pillar, desperately reaching for his grace. Nothing happens, and she gives a shrug. "I have my orders." The sound of wings comes again and she vanishes, but Castiel isn't paying attention to her any more. He sprints across the room, his lover's name falling from his lips like a prayer.

"Dean, Dean, can you hear me?" Castiel reaches out, mutters an apology and removes the straps that bind the hunter to the rack. Dean falls forward, and the words 'dead weight' flutter through Castiel's mind before he can stop them, but the human moans in pain as Castiel lowers him to the floor. The angel takes off his coat, then sets about removing the knives, using them to cut Dean's discarded clothing into usable strips. He bandages his lover's wounds as best he can, then bundles Dean in his overcoat and gently cradles him against his chest, rocking the hunter gently as the angel begins to weep. "I'm so sorry," Castiel whispers, staring down at the ruins of the face he has come to love. "Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry."

"Why?" Dean rasps. "You didn't do this to me, Cas."

"It's because of me that you are made to suffer," Castiel replies.

"Don't be a moron," Dean says, and he sounds so Dean that Castiel gives a bitter smile through the tears streaking his face.

"If I could take it back..." Castiel begins, and is surprised by the sound of laughter, choked and gurgling, but laughter all the same.

"You'd take it back? You wouldn't love me? 'Cause here's the thing." Dean draws a pained breath. "I love you, ya winged idiot. I wouldn't change anything. And if you say you would, so help me I will kick your ass." The truth of that burns through Castiel like holy fire, and he leans down to press his cheek to the top of Dean's head.

"I love you, too, you foolish human," he whispers against Dean's hair.

"I'll survive this," Dean says. "You'll survive this, and we'll go home, and get drunk, and this'll all be a bad memory."

"Raphael wants to kill you, Dean," Castiel advises him. Dean gives that broken laugh again.

"But he won't. And while he's distracted with me, you'll find a way to get free and shank his ass."

"You have such faith," the angel says, shaken.

"Only faith I've ever had, Cas. Faith in you." Dean clutches at the angel's arms, cuddling as close as he can, and Castiel can hear him muffling small sounds of pain into the fabric of his white shirt. "I love you," the hunter says again before going limp. Panicked, Castiel checks his throat, but Dean's pulse still beats. He's just slipped into blessed unconsciousness. Holding the broken body close, Castiel closes his eyes. I'll save you, my love, he thinks, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Dean's skull. I swear I'll save you.