Title: And I will Let You Down
Author: castiel-thepizzaman
Pairing: eventual Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17 or M
Warning: hurt!cas, consent issues, language, and some others

A/N: This is my first Supernatural story, especially with the pairing of Dean/Castiel. I'll admit, I listened to the song, 'I am Human' by the Brian Buckley Band all the while typing this. It will the be the first of multiple chapters. So enjoy, hopefully. Next chapter will be up next Monday! Oh, and reviews are greatly appreciated, I want to know where I'm going wrong and such.

And I Will Let You Down

Pain, intense pain. It caused Dean's eyes to rip wide open, but the only sight that greeted him back was the dark ceiling of the motel room. His body was slick with sweat and he was trying to get his breathing back to a normal tempo. The dream he had felt so vivid and real that Dean's mind was trying to fit all the pieces back together, a sick twisting of his stomach appearing every time a memory or feeling returned to him. Gingerly, almost as if the Winchester was in pain, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Consciousness had evaded him and he had fallen asleep before he could get under the covers, and still fully clothed from the day before. The movement of his body had waken up his brother, the noise unaccustomed in their quiet room.

"Dean?" Sam asked groggily, slowly pushing himself up off the bed to rest on his elbows. "Are you alright?" Dean heard the anxiety in his brother's voice and knew the underlying meaning of the question. Nightmares of Hell plagued him constantly, but since he had admitted what had happened to him thereto Sam, and since Castiel had attempted to ease his sleep, he had been doing better. But spending the majority of his life there was not something that could be easily cured. Forty years had left their imprint on the hunter, and not in the way that he wanted. Try as he might, there was nothing he could do to run away from the massacred and bloody past he had. The screams of the people that he had tortured, with a smile on his face would wake him. But not tonight. Tonight he woke for a different reason.

"No, no… Sammy. Just, go back to sleep." Dean said. Resting his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes violently, almost as if the nightmare could be forced out of his mind. 'Cas. What the Hell?' Dean thought, a small shudder going through his body as he remembered the blood.

The shuddered did not go unnoticed by Sam, and he ignored what Dean had told him, instead, pushing himself up, fixing the t-shirt that had ridden up his back in his sleep. "Dean. What's going on?" The thin line Sam knew he was walking only cracked and broke as Dean looked up sharply. In the soft light filtering from the streetlights outside the window only accentuated the fear and confusion on Dean's face. As much as Dean appreciated his brother's care, this was the last thing he needed, and as Sam called his name again, Dean turned away, pain on his face. "Dean." Sam said, sitting on his bed so that he and Dean were facing each other.

Suddenly his dream flashed back to him. And instead of Sam's lips calling out his name, it was Castiel's. His light pink lips, smeared with blood, but forming the syllables of his name, but nothing came out but an agonizing scream. Castiel's bright blue eyes filled with terror, contrasting with a dark blue bruise forming on the side of his face before he closed his eyes and the nightmare stopped.

"It's…. It's Cas." Dean finally got out, feeling a headache starting just behind his eyes. "He's hurting." In reality, that was an impossible statement, Castiel was, after all, an angel and there was practically nothing that could hurt him.

"Cas?" Sam repeated, confusion crossing his face as well. The angel had not been around for a long time, almost four months, and that had hindered their progress greatly, but they assumed there was other more important things he was dealing with. He had made it very clear last time, that the Winchester's problems was not his own as much as he would prefer to be on Earth with them, helping. "What happened?" As much as Sam was sure this nightmare was nothing, he figured that if it was bad enough to wake Dean from his sleep, it should be something they talk about. Dean had always been there for Sam, always trying to do what was best for his younger brother, and Sam was trying to repay Dean the best he could, even if it meant little things like this.

Dean shook his head, his hand moving in a slow, methodical circle where he felt the headache beginning. Standing, he left the edge of his bed, almost tripping over Sam's shoes which had been discarded in the middle of the room, and opened the small fridge, grabbing out a beer. Ignoring the looks that Sam threw at Dean as he took his first swing. Who cares that it was three in the morning, after that experience, he needed a beer. Something stronger would have been preferred, but this was all they had. After swallowing, Dean kept on looking at the wall, not meeting his brother's eyes. "It's all fuzzy." Dean lied, remembering the crystal clear memory as if he had been there. "There were wards all over the walls, and Cas, he was hurting, his eyes…. There was so much blood, Sammy." Dean whispered, the bright blue eyes, filled with terror flashed across his vision, along with another throb from his headache. The bottle in his had shook slightly, so the man pressed it to his lips, taking another long gulp of it. In his mind he was cursing himself, trying to pull himself together. He couldn't do this, especially not in front of Sam.

Finally, Dean turned to see Sam watching him carefully, the filtered light from the curtains cast a glint across the younger man's eyes, making him look sharper than he was in his sleepy state. "That doesn't sound too good…." Sam murmured, his eyes taking in Dean's defeated stance. This seemed like a nightmare that would not go away with time. "How about we summon him?" That would put Dean's worry at rest, especially when Castiel would show up fine, but annoyed that they dragged him away from something important.

But that suggestion only brought a small scoff from Dean's lips and was soon suppressed by the bottle. "He hasn't come the last times we've called him. What makes you think he will come now?" The tone he had asked that in didn't mean to sound so harsh and a wave of guilt flashed through him as he saw a look of shock across his brother's face. Dean understood that Sam was just trying to help, and he should not be angered at his brother for problems that were completely his own.

With a small, exasperated sigh, Sam pushed the covers off himself and stood, heading over to his duffel bag located at the foot of his bed. "We should at least try, Dean. If not to put this to rest, but to see how Cas is doing." But Sam was not going to add what could happen if Castiel did not show up. After all, four month was a long time not to show up. Sam pulled out a pair of jeans and shoved them on over his boxer before he ran a hand through his messy hand. It was then that Dean noticed how much Sam had grown. He was not the same twenty-two year old he had asked for help from in the many years previous. After all they had been through, and as much as Dean wished for it, he knew they could never return to who they were before. Everything had changed so much, time had changed them, and it made it impossible to even remember how it had been before.

As Sam zipped his bag back up, Dean took another sip of his beer and put it on the counter before he stepped towards Sam. "Want me to do it?" Dean asked, a small pause in his voice. Sam nodded and turned to face Dean and watched as his brother spread his arms in a mock gesture, his palms flat and facing upwards. "Hey Castiel, we need to talk to you. You know, just about stuff. It's important, I swear…." Dean said, closing his eyes and feeling the lame prayer pass between his lips. Silence greeted them. "Cas?" Dean said in a voice gruffer than his own. "Come on, Cas." Silence still surrounded them and Dean opened his eyes to see Sam staring at him, holding his breath. It was then that Dean realized he was holding his own as well. Dean dropped his hands and sighed. "Well, that was a waste." Dean growled, turning to walk away from Sam and back to his beer.

A sharp pain exploded in his skull, the headache doubling in pain. 'No. Don't. Please.' Castiel's deep voice yelled out in a panic, his body hunched against a wall. Dean groaned, his knees weakening some and causing him to crouch down in pain. "Dean?" Sam said, grabbing his shoulder to help him stand up right.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a headache." Dean said, reaching for the bottle and placing it to his lips where he took a couple of large gulps. Slightly annoyed, he shrugged Sam's hand off his shoulder and reached up to wipe the sweat that had beaded on his forehead from the incident. It was unpleasant and something he didn't want to occur again. Before Sam could ask another question a flutter of wings could be heard in the room and with some surprise the Winchesters whirled around expectantly.

What greeted them was not what they thought would be there. A young woman, with straight blonde hair and bright hazel eyes that were almost covered by her bangs greeted them. Her bright pink lips were pulled into a worried frown and her hands were twitching at her sides as if they had a desire to do something. Within an instant, Sam grabbed the shotgun that was leaning against the edge of his bed. The Angel knife was stated away in his duffel bag and he cursed at himself in hindsight. Dean reached for his knife, but before he could, another wave of pain radiated through him. A naked figure, his arms chained and held above him as he dangled, his toes barely touching the ground. His body was smeared with blood, open wounds dripping the red substance as it dropped and pooled on the ground underneath him. Dean could only guess who the figure was, until it groaned in slight pain, and it's blue eyes opened and looked up, almost as if he was staring right at Dean.

"Cas!" Dean heard him yell as his mind refocused to find himself on his hands and knees staring at the filthy carpet of the motel. His body was shaking and he felt the need to throw up what little beer he had drank. He felt Sam's hand under his arm as he was pulled up into a standing position, eyes focusing on the woman in the room.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, raising the shotgun to point at her chest. They both knew that the gun would not make a difference to an angel, but perhaps it conveyed the message and it would give them enough time to get to the Angel knife.

But the woman wasn't looking at the shotgun, instead she as surveying Dean, and it almost seemed as if the frown had lessen slightly. Under her surveillance, Dean turned to grab his knife off the counter. Ignoring Sam's question, she asked. "What did you see?" That caught the Winchesters off guard as they turned to look at each other before their eyes returned to the angel who was mindlessly flipping through a book that had been left open on Sam's bed. When she noticed that neither of them felt like talking to her or giving her answers she closed the book a little rougher than necessary. "I am Isfahar. I have been searching for you two for a while, if it was not for your prayer to Castiel, I doubt I would have found you." She said, her hazel eyes flicking to either face as she reached up and pushed some of her bangs out of her eyes. Seeing their faces, her frown deepened. "You must understand, I mean you no harm."

A small scoff came from Dean, "And how are we supposed to trust you?"

Isfahar nodded almost in agreement, "You are human. Sometimes I feel like Castiel raises you above other." Her frown stayed, but it almost seemed as if her eyes were laughing in merriment.

"You… you know Cas?" Dean asked, "Is he okay? Where has he been?" He felt his heart rate increase, and the worry almost seemed to lighten and slip from his shoulders.

"Of course. I fight alongside him." What seemed like pride crossed her face before she turned and appeared behind the boys, looking at some of the papers on the table. It was a recent case they were working on, but it seemed to be a dead end at the moment. Which had caused Sam to delve into his research and Dean to take his emotions out on alcohol, sleep, and women. As her hand ghosted above a paper with symbols on it, she turned to the Winchesters and shook her head. "But I fear he is not okay. He had been gone for a while, even in Heaven where time passes faster than it does on Earth. He has not been seen for a while. Last I knew, he went to meet with Raphael, and we were sure everything would go fine. But the other angels who went with Castiel are dead. It seems as if there were extra precautions taken by the archangel. I only hope that Raphael has not been dealing with…." Isfahar glanced up at the two men and raised an eyebrow. "Well, anything." As if to convey a meaning.

The information that she had given them seemed to wash over them and even Sam's stony stance seemed to droop at the news. But they had turned with her and kept their weapons raised. "What does that mean?" Sam questioned, glancing at Dean to see if he was alright. But for Dean, just the memories of his nightmare resided behind his eyes.

"It means." Isfahar murmured, "That we have no knowledge of where Castiel is nor what is happening to him." The words seemed to hit the men with such force that they lowered their weapons, letting them hang by their sides. "I take great risks coming here." In an instant, Isfahar was standing in front of Dean, her eyes searching his brooding face. "But I only had one choice left. Castiel only had a connection with one person." She reached up and Dean instinctively pulled back, but she had grabbed his arm in a tight grip before he was able to get away from her. The humans watched as she pushed up the sleeve of Dean's t-shirt, revealing the burned handprint of Castiel. Isfahar glanced at it for a few seconds before she raised her palm, which glowed with a white light and placed it on the handprint.

Suddenly emotions washed through him, pain, suffering, defeat. Falling to the ground seemed easy, what came next was not.

Gray walls stared at him, each painted with a different symbol, but Dean knew they were all for him, all for Cas. His body ached, pain rippled through at every movement, and blood was drying on his skin. He could feel presences with in him. One, forced to sleep, and the other contained, his grace being held and compacted, small enough to make him a human, and if it was released he could continue being the angel he was. A noise could be heard and he looked up through blood soaked hair at the three people coming in. Their eyes filled with black and a small shudder went through the body, even after everything he could still feel hatred and despise these unholy abominations in his presence. 'Castiel….' One murmured, reaching out to touch the side of his face. The skin under the hand crawled with disgust. 'Let us see how we can break you today.' It whispered into his ear, almost as if it was whispering sweet words to a lover. A desire to smite these beings rose up within the body, before a sense of defeat surpassed it. He had no power, he was barely a human in here and these demons were taking advantage of that. He closed his eyes not wanting to see the leering faces before he felt a sharp pain on his cheek.

Dean howled in pain, reaching up as if he felt like his cheek was slashed in two. Fear was wild in his eyes and his body shook, sweat dripping down his face, off the bridge of his nose to land on the carpet beneath him. But he did not notice any of it nor did he feel it. His mind was consumed by what he was seeing, but what he was feeling.

'Look at me, you ignorant fool. We have you. Just give up already!' The menace in the voice was undeniable, hatred flowing through it's voice. But it seemed like the body did not hesitate when it's eyes flared open, taking in the scene around him.

'No.' Castiel's voice growled right back, matching the hatred in his voice. Even though his cheek had been slashed through, the words came out clear and concise.

'No?' The demon asked back, before he smiled. 'We shall see about that.' It said before reaching up and letting the cuffs around Castiel's hand go. The body fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, pain resonating through every cell of his body. Old wounds split open and the sickly feeling of blood spreading over his body, they had pushed the physical limits of his vessel as far as it could go, but they were trying to find ways around it. 'Get up.' The demon growled, nudging the still body with his leather shoes. 'Now.' Whether the body was disobeying the order or just physically couldn't was beyond Dean's knowledge. A second demon moved foreword and pulled the figure onto his hands and knees, not before a swift kick to the side, resulting in a loud crack and a small whimper.

The second demon moved away as they surveyed him on his hands an knees. 'Now, Castiel, are we going to have to go through this again?' The demon asked, and the view changed from the gray cement under his broken and bleeding hands to look at the demon. The look of pure enjoyment and pleasure was on the demons face as it reached down and began undoing its belt. No matter what, the demon was going to go through with it again even if he finally gave in. This act gave the demons too much pleasure, and Dean was enveloped in darkness as his eyes were closed. There was the tell-tale sign of a zipper being undone, followed closely by a second one. Eyes opened frantically as they glanced around widely, seeing one of the demons station himself in from of him, and his eyes focused on the penis, hard and erect, barely a few inches in front of him, turning he saw the first demon stationed behind him, is hand resting lightly on the small of his back, and he knew what was going to happen there, causing his body to clench in fear and reluctance. Then his eyes strayed to the third demon, holding a knife in his hands, a sick smile on his face. They all were ready, the smiles on their faces giving an evil meaning to the world. The third demon came forward and stabbed the knife into the body's side, between two ribs. A shriek of pain echoed through the gray room, before it was muffled by something warm being slid into his mouth and a burning sensation of pain on his backside as he was forced open. Then, everything went black.

The noise of talking hit his muffled ears, still ringing from the yell of pain. "Dean? Dean? What did you do to him?" There was an uncomfortable pressure on his chest and he reached up with one hand to bat it away. The pressure gave up slightly, but it was still there and Dean forced open his eyes to see Sam kneeling next to him, a hand on Dean's chest and the other close to Dean's ear.

Pushing Sam off him and sat up checking his side to make sure the knife had not gone into his ribs. Once he was sure that his skin was intact, even if the remembrance of the pain lingered underneath his skin, Dean's hand moved, rubbing his head where it had connected with the floor. "I'm alright, Sammy." Dean muttered, hating that he saw worry on his brother's face. "Just went for a nice trip somewhere." Dean growled, looking up at Isfahar. "What the fuck was that?" Dean growled, wanting to stand up, but his body was shaking too much for that.

A small smile pressed the corner of Isfahar's lips in a smile. "So you did connect with Castiel. Good. What did you see?" She asked, balancing on the balls of her feet as she kneeled down next to Dean.

But instead of returning her small smile, he became enraged, remembering what Castiel was going through. "I would kill you right now if I had the chance. Friend of Cas' or not." The threat in Dean's voice made her blink in surprise for a moment before she returned to her stoic face.

"I could care less about how feel about me, Dean Winchester. The armies of Heaven need a leader, and that just so happens to be your guardian angel, Castiel." Isfahar stated plainly, leaning closer to Dean, their faces barely inches a part. "What did you see?"

Dean could not control himself anymore. "Fuck you and fuck your Heaven. You leave right now, and don't you ever come back." Dean growled as he pushed himself away from her and up on shaking legs. He turned and grabbed his beer off the floor where it had fallen and spilled all over the carpet. It was solid in his hands and he held it, ready to hit her with it, even though it would do no good.

"Dean, Dean, Dean." Isfahar stood. Even though the vessel she was in barely stood to Dean's shoulder, her presence was large and the room seems to come alive with her power. "You're letting your emotions get control of yourself. If I did not know any better I would say that you like-"

But Dean cut her off, "Go to Hell." The words dripped with venom, and he turned and slammed the bottle onto the counter.

"No place I'll ever be going." Isfahar's voice floated around to him. "But from what I've learned, the experience is not very… pleasant." Dean's hand squeezed the bottle, attempting to keep off the memories that were ever lurking on the edge of his mind. With a small furry of wings the room was silent and the pulsing power had left. She must have assumed she would not get anything out of Dean. He could feel Sam's eyes on the back of his head, but he needed a few seconds to regain his composure before he was going to to face Sam.

Without warning, the fear that he had felt when he was looking out of Castiel's eyes washed over him and Dean knocked the bottle off the counter in a hurry to get to the bathroom and heave up whatever was in his stomach. Even after everything was gone, he dry heaved into the toilet, feeling the burn of the acid in his throat and mouth. Sam had reached in and closed the door behind Dean, obviously waiting for Dean to prepare himself to talk to him. But this was something Dean knew he would try to avoid. He had felt like he was in Castiel, as if Castiel was his vessel. "Oh Cas…." Dean whispered as his forehead rested against his arm, his face still pointed in the direction of the toilet for fear of more throwing up. But for now, everything seemed to be calm. As much as he did not want to, Dean thought through everything that he had seen, trying to gleam more knowledge about where Castiel was being held. But nothing he heard nor saw gave him any clues.

After some time had passed, Dean assumed that Sam was getting worried about him, and he stood, feeling some strength return to his limbs as he opened the door to a flood of light. Sam had turned on the overhead light and was sitting on his bed with his duffel bag next to him. "Where to?" Sam asked as he stood and shouldered the bag over his shoulder. Dean glanced around the room and saw that Sam had also packed for him and Dean grabbed his bag and snatched the keys off the bedside table.

He played with keys, letting them fall between his fingers before he glanced up at Sam. "I don't actually know." It was an uncomfortable feeling, especially since he knew what Castiel was going through.

Sam stared at him with a pensive look before he shrugged and headed out the door. Even if they did not know where to go, they had to get away from this room. Isfahar knew they had stayed here and that was dangerous. Plus, both of them knew they would feel better on the road than anywhere else. "What do you know?" Sam asked, as Dean closed the door of the motel behind them.

Dean strode ahead of Sam, not wanting to see him, but that posed a problem when they came to the Impala and Dean was forced to look at Sam while he got into the passenger seat. "I know we gotta find him soon." Dean said, leaving it at that before he slid into the drivers side and placed the key into the ignition. The car rumbled alive, and Dean did not hesitate to peel out of the parking lot and onto the road, heading in whatever direction he could.