The brothers sped down the highway, going twice the speed limit. Clouds as ominous and foreboding as Dean's thoughts rumbled and rolled overhead, the nimble pattering of rain drumming on the windows and windshield. The radio remained off, adding to the tension stewing in the car. Dean's gaze was focused like a laser on the spans of road ahead, his body rigid and still. Sam decided he would try to comfort his brother.

"He could be fine. Maybe he fought them off?" He suggested with a heavy heart. He knew that Cas couldn't exorcise or kill a demon in his state, let alone without his powers. Dean nodded, wishing he could believe the words his brother was saying. How could he have defended himself, when he could barely sit up this morning without wincing? His subconscious was nagging at him, anticipating the worst.

He's dead and you know it, he thought. You didn't even give him anything to kill a demon with. You left him defenseless. Your best friend. How can you be so stupid? It's a miracle you haven't gotten Sammy killed too… oh wait, you have. More than once. What kind of a brother are you? Better yet, what kind of a person are you? Dean shook his head, imagining the thoughts tumbling out of his mind through his ears.

"Maybe they weren't even demons, just room service or something?" Sam said with foe-hopefulness, trying to ease both of their minds.

"We told them not to come in." Dean growled. He could feel himself growing more and more high-strung with each mile that passed.

"Could be just some-" Sam started. But Dean cut him off.

"No, Sam, it couldn't. Know why? Because when people hang around us, they get hurt. It's not just gonna be some towel lady who happened to walk in, because that doesn't happen to us. We don't have lucky breaks. All of our friends die or get hurt or worse. You think Cas is gonna be an exception?!" He yelled. Sam stared at him for a second. He looked like a kicked puppy. Then he turned and stared out the window, his back facing Dean.

Jeez, all he needs now is some sad music and he could be something straight out of a chick flick, Dean thought snidely. Deep down, however, he could feel a monster of guilt rising up in him, suffocating him. He felt guilt-ridden for snapping at Sam, leaving Cas, not being the righteous man he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be the older, more judicious brother with all the answers. The brother that always knew everything and did the right thing. This monster writhing inside him would not be slain easily, like all the others he faces. If only. The rest of the drive was in utter silence.

They arrived at the motel around noon. The hotel sign shone its name in hazy blue letters, but distorted by the rain, so it was as if seeing it blotted and smudged. The second the car jerked to a halt, Dean leapt out with his favorite gun in his hand. He made the short trek to their door, and found it ominously unlocked. He pushed it open and raised his gun, hurrying into the dim room. Although it was almost too dark to see, he attempted to scope out the room, searching for signs of life. His attempts were fruitless and provided him with no clue as to the state of the room or any occupants. He flipped the light switch, only wavering his line of sight for a second.

Light flooded into the room. The scene laid out before Dean made his stomach drop with horror, fear, and hopelessness. The chairs were over turned, one even had a wooden leg that was splintered into a million fragments. The bed covers were torn completely off the mattress, and splattered with blood in multiple places. Streaks of blood were everywhere; apparently there was a struggle. Dean hoped that not all of the blood was Cas's. Sam entered the room silently, gun raised. Dean's had long since fallen to his side in shock and dismay. He'd seen crime scenes before, but since this was Cas, it took a personal turn and flipped the situation upside-down. He noticed the trench coat was gone; probably the demon's attempt to conceal Cas's wounds as to not draw attention to themselves. He walked to their beds, both mattresses slightly off center from the frames. Cas was laying here this morning, he thought, now he could be dead or held hostage somewhere. He trailed his fingers over a patch of blood on the once-white mattress, and was surprised to find it wet and warm. It hadn't cooled or hardened yet. Then something clicked in his brain.

"Sam this blood is fresh," He declared. Sam shrugged, not understanding his meaning.

"So? You were driving like, 3x over the speed limit. I'm sure we were close." He said. Dean walked over to Sam and whispered in his ear.

"No, fresh. They're still here." Sam's eyes widened, and he nodded his understanding. Silently, they both scoured the motel room for any possible areas that could conceal an angel and a demon or two. Sam nudged Dean and he turned and looked where Sam was pointing. Across the room, the bathroom door was closed, but there was a faint glow of light coming from the crack under it. He nodded, raising his gun which was loaded with rock salt. Sam raised his. They both wished they'd had time to get Ruby's knife back from Crowley. But they'd have to make do. Together, they silently moved towards the door. Dean's heart was pounding, fearful of what he'd find on the other side. He couldn't lose Cas again, not to Crowley. He didn't even consider the possibilities of what could happen if Crowley got an angel to power his weapon, he only thought about Cas.

They reached the door, and Sam took the knob in his hand, standing to the side. Dean stood in front with his gun cocked and ready. Sam started to count down to one. Three; he thought of what he was going to do if someone was on the other side. Two; he thought of what he would do if Cas was on the other side. One; he thought of Cas. Sam swung the door open, and Dean ran inside the cramped room. On the floor, bloody and tied up, was Cas. He had duct tape covering his mouth and ropes binding his hands and feet together. He jumped when the door opened, his eyes filled with fear and urgency.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed, dropping to his knees to help him. His gun was discarded as he peeled the tape slowly off his mouth. Before it was even fully off, Cas tried to tell Dean something. But what came out was muffled and unrecognizable.

"Hang on buddy, just a second." Dean said, urging Cas to be patient. By now Sam had also squeezed into the small space and started untying Cas's hands, being held behind his back with twine. The door had been closed in the hurry, by a stray arm or leg. Dean peeled off the last of the tape, leaving a patch of skin that was slightly reddened from agitation. One word escaped from Cas's mouth before the door flew open.

"Trap."

The bathroom was so small that when the door flew open, it collided sharply with Sam's abdomen effectively pinning him between the wall and door. Dean had time to spin around and reach for his gun before two demons marched inside, leaving the door wide open. Before Dean could wrap his fingers around the gun, one demon possessing a teenage boy with black, spiked hair kicked it away, leaving it to ricochet off the wall and spin to a stop. Dean attempted to stand and claim the upper hand, but as soon as he made it to his feet he was struck down with a crushing kick to the stomach.

"Dean!" Cas yelled, struggling to free his hands. Sam had loosened the ropes, but not entirely. Cas strained, forcing his bonds apart far enough to free his hands. He screamed in pain because of the movement of his shoulder. He started to work on the ropes around his ankles. Sam pushed the door halfway closed then back against the wall, allowing him to stand and clear a shot at the second demon, who was possessing a middle aged woman with red hair. He raised his gun, aimed at the leg of the possessed woman, and fired. She was blasted through the open doorway, and crashed to the ground. Salt filled bullets couldn't kill demons, but it could sure hurt them. Sam quickly shot the second demon near its bicep, making it screech with pain. Dean stood up, coughing and rubbing his stomach. He helped Cas stand while Sam held off the demons. Dean quickly located his gun and helped Cas to the counter.

"Stay here." Dean said, giving him a death-stare saying he means business. Cas nodded, reluctant to be useless but also aware that he was in no state to fight demons. That was apparent by how easily they ambushed and captured him earlier today. He leaned heavily on the counter top, watching the Winchesters and holding his shoulder. Sam had his gun pointed at the demon possessing the teenaged boy, and Dean had his pointed at the woman. Simultaneously, they opened their mouths and black smoke spewed forth. Each victim screamed, and as soon as the demons were gone the bodies fell unconscious. Sam lowered his gun and checked each person for a pulse, and announced that they were both alive. He hastily raided the bathroom for various pieces of cloth, and settled with towels that were a soon-to-be-stained shade of peach. Sam attempted to stop any bleeding from the bullets while Dean helped Cas. He ran to Castiel quicker than he anticipated, and nearly tripped over the legs of the unconscious woman.

"Cas! You ok?" Dean inquired, easing some of Cas's weight onto himself and therefore off the angel's feet.

"Yes, Dean, thank you. I am glad you arrived before they were able to do anything more to me."

"Yeah, buddy, me too. C'mon, let's get you to the bed." Cas nodded and allowed Dean to guide him to the patterned bedspread, now flecked with his blood. Cas sat, and Dean kneeled before him.

"D'you think any of your stitches tore?" Dean asked, gingerly moving his hands over Cas's torso. He examined every hint of thread that peeked out from Cas's even skin.

"I do not believe so, but I do not have much experience in this area. I might not know if it did or not." He watched Dean, marveling at the preciseness of his actions.

"Ah!" Cas grunted when Dean moved his hands over a particular gash across the left of his ribcage. Dean looked up at the cry and his eyes met Cas's. In that moment, their gazes were held by a force outside of this world, and Dean could see into Cas's eyes. For the first time, he could see into Cas's eyes. The blue he found there was the color of his childhood bedroom walls, his first bicycle, his mother's favorite hair ribbon. The color dusted upon his lips when he nearly froze during a winter hunt in Michigan. The glowing color of a Djinn's eyes just before he stabbed it with a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood. He blinked, and the background came back into focus. Cas was still gazing through his apple-green eyes, his mouth parted slightly showing his front teeth. Dean cleared his throat.

"Does, uh, this one hurt?" he asked. Cas nodded. Sam had been staring at the pair of them, then scoffed and backed out of the room to the car.

"Grab some gauze, would ya?" he called after Sam. He then examined the wound and came to the conclusion that the thread hadn't torn, but it stretched Cas's skin uncomfortably so.

"You'll be ok. I'll replace the gauze, then we ought to hit the road again. What'dya say?" "I think that plan is logical," Cas replied evenly. Dean smirked slightly before answering.

"Alright, Spock." Sam returned with the gauze, and together they wound some around Cas.

"Perhaps we should call for an ambulance or something of the like before we depart? For the injured humans…" Cas suggested, looking towards the silent and unmoving bodies on the floor. Dean and Sam shared a glance and silently agreed. Dean helped Cas into the backseat of the car while Sam finished up the call. The rain had retreated, leaving its legacy on the damp pavement and in the water droplets still glistening on the hood of the Impala.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean called, "Why don't you drive." He threw the keys to his younger brother, who gave a questioning glance but dismissed it as soon as he saw the look in Dean's eye as he opened the door and ducked in.