*Disclaimer* I own nothing of Supernatural...this is purely fan-made...

Chapter Four

Naomi sat at her desk, eyes closed, fingers resting lightly on her temples. She replayed the scenes from the other day over and over in her mind; she didn't know if it had worked or not. She remembered slicing through Castiel's grace, getting into the even brighter being within. She remembered Castiel's struggles, remembered noticing she couldn't hear him. He was blocking her, blocking the entire Host out. No wonder Castiel appeared so weak; he was pretty much blocking all of Heaven out. His mind was closed off to angels… Naomi couldn't understand, what angel would choose to block out his siblings? All angels were born connected to the Host; you didn't have to be in Heaven to hear your orders, your new missions, or the on goings on Earth. Castiel's mind was silent, by choice. For a moment Naomi had wondered how her little brother didn't go mad, and then she remembered… he already had. He'd been poisoned by emotions, by doubt, by free will. Well, not anymore! Naomi pushed against Castiel's wall, trying to reconnect him to the Host, or at least to her. For a moment, her brother fought back, and then the pain of the procedure he was undergoing took its toll. Naomi fought the chinks in his armor and shoved with all her grace, finally able to enter her little brother's mind.

'Don't fight back Castiel' Naomi said in enochian. 'Let me help you, you're not well little brother.' Castiel fought back against the needle, against the pain. 'Naomi, please' Castiel answered back. Naomi let a small, triumphant smile curve her lips upward when her brother not only responded in enochian, but through their connection, instead of out loud. 'You are not well, you think Castiel, and you feel, two things an angel should never experience. Lucifer thought, Lucifer fell. You don't have to be Lucifer, Castiel' Naomi continued with her babble and thoughts, trying to distract her little brother from the pain. 'You will kill Benny; you will put the Winchesters back on track. Heaven is not done with them yet. You will find the tablet, you will stop Crowley, you will protect the prophet, you will recover the translations' Naomi repeated again and again, both to her sibling and herself. Castiel's wide eyes locked on hers. 'The tablet is of main concern, nothing else matters. The demons must not get its translation. Crowley must not find the other tablets. The Winchesters must not get distracted. The prophet must be kept safe' Naomi continued.

'No, no, no' Castiel retorted, though his voice was softer and lost in Naomi's ramble. Naomi narrowed her eyes, digging the needle in deeper, scraping more. She felt a shadow of Castiel's pain though their link, she embraced it. 'I'm trying to help you Castiel' she continued, over lapping her continuous babble on Castiel's mission. 'You shouldn't feel, you shouldn't think, angels are warriors of God. Angels are soldiers. You were such a good soldier Castiel, you led your garrison honorably. To think is to fall. Emotions are abominations. Our lives are only to serve Heaven, given up for the case if they must. You are a solider. You are a warrior of God. Angels do not doubt. Emotions bring suffering.' At this Naomi thought back to all the destructions Castiel caused in Heaven, all the angels he destroyed, all the angels lost in his Civil War. Her thoughts also flowed through the connection. She felt Castiel shudder, though this time it was from the weight of his guilt, not the pain. 'Did you not learn from the humans? Emotions bring pain, suffering, doubt, war. You did not cause that devastation, Castiel, your emotions did. Let them go… Let them go Castiel. Our lives are so simple… We serve Heaven, we serve God, we follow orders. There is no pain, no fear, no doubt… no guilt. Come home, Castiel, return to your family. You don't have to be an abomination. You don't have to suffer. You don't have to be like Lucifer.'

At the same time, Naomi's own thoughts leaked though. Samandriel hadn't been heard of in a long time, his garrison was becoming upset. If Crowley found out about the other tablets, would he reach them before Heaven? What if he found the tablet on angels? Was Samandriel dead? Why did he not response to his garrison's call? Would the prophet come willingly? Would he fight against them? Would the Winchesters stand in their way? It wasn't like Samandriel to disappear… He had to be found. What if Crowley killed Kevin? Would the succeeding prophet require as much persuasion as the current? Or would Crowley just have to promise a land full of riches to receive all the tablet had to offer? Heaven couldn't afford to lose more angels. Where was Samandriel? What was Crowley planning now? He had to be stopped. Heaven had lost too much , received too many blows. Samandriel might be dead.

Naomi could feel Castiel shudder again, both physically and mentally. He was exhausted, from fighting, from the pain, and from his own guilt, which he carried around everywhere. He was hanging on by the tips of his fingers, he was ready to let go. Naomi kept up her verbal assaults, of the horrors of free will, of his orders, and even of scenes from the devastation Castiel had caused do to free will, as she carved neatly into Castiel, the needle slicing through the brilliant being with ease.

Naomi sighed, Castiel had then gone completely still. She had briefly wondered if it was working. Castiel stared straight at her, his eye twitching, and then closing both his eyes. Naomi had watched his twitching wings stiffen. Castiel had open his eyes, they had glowed a bright blue, startling Naomi. She knew now that, more than anything, Castiel had been reacting to the pain. He wouldn't have gotten away but… every time Father brought Castiel back; it seemed the little angel got a new upgrade. His newest ability, the ability to grow and swell up his grace in a moment of need- to the point where it shone through his vessel, leaking out of his eyes and entire body, making him glow- did not come without a price, but it was enough for Castiel to break free, and escape. Naomi could only hope she'd done her job. She wanted to call Castiel, check up on him, but she was worried he'd remember. She'd give it a moment longer, she had other things to tend to anyways, then she'd call Castiel and she'd see for herself if her little procedure had worked.

"That stupid son-of-a-bitch!" Dean hit the steering wheel again. His heart was hammering in his chest, his breathing was hard and fast- he wanted to punch someone. 'Cas? Cas, come back here right now! Cas? You hearing me? Cas? Cas! Cas, you child!' "Dean, calm down" Sam said, placing his hand comfortingly, or in what meant to be a comforting gesture, on his shoulder. Dean shrugged him off. "He's gone after Crowley, Sam" he retorted, turning around to glare at his brother. Sam gazed back, nothing but sympathy in his own expressive and ever gentle eyes. "I know" he said. "He's going to get himself killed!" Dean added, still shouting. The fact that Sam appeared so calm only served to agitate him more. "You don't know that" Sam said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Dean's nostrils flared, but he said nothing else.

"Now, come on" Sam said, letting go of Dean's shoulder "We have another half of the tablet, we should be getting it to Garth's… and getting Kevin back to his mom" he said, slowly, softly. That didn't stop Dean from stiffening. "What?" he asked slowly, turning to face his brother once more. "Sam, Cas just went after Crowley, alone, after nearly getting torn apart by hell hounds" he said. "Yes, Dean, I know, I was there! And I'm worried about him too, you think I'm not? But the fact remains we have a piece of the tablet, which we can't let fall into the hands of demons again… we have a prophet, who we promised to keep safe, and have no angel as back-up in case Crowley decides to send a horde of demons after us.. We have no idea where Cas flew off to, or where Crowley is, or the other piece of the tablet. We only have our half of the tablet, and Kevin. They're here, in the car, and we are the only ones who can keep them safe. We have to get to Garth's. We can try to track Crowley, or find Cas, from there" Sam practically barked back, causing Dean's mouth to snap shut. The worst part was Dean knew Sam was right; he just didn't want to acknowledge it. His gaze flickered, to the rear view mirror, spotting Kevin in the back seat, to the windshield. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sam's gaze soften once more. "We'll find him, okay?" his brother reassured, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezing. Dean just nodded numbly, the fight gone from him, and he eased the car into drive. He had a job to do, keep Kevin safe, keep the tablet from the demons, close the Gates of Hell, and he was going to do it. And if he got when he got Cas back, he was going to punch him, right across the jaw. He didn't care if it broke his hand… Cas could heal that anyways. 'Please Cas, justbe okay.'

Growley nudged Crowley's hand, making the demon smirk as he was pulled from his thoughts. He gave his hell hound an absent minded pat on its head, which it had lowered in order to nuzzle his palm. There it was. The last piece of the tablet in his possession. Crowley gave himself a small pat on the back for thinking of breaking his half once more after he escaped from Castiel, the first time. He'd taken a huge, triangular chuck out the middle, the prophet wouldn't be able to translate the Word of God without first acquiring his piece, and when he came looking for it, Crowley would be ready. He'd have to get himself a new pack first… a bigger one. He only had Growley now. The only other hell hound to survive the attack on the angel had died shortly after arriving at their destination. Crowley hadn't even known hell hounds could die from their wounds… He chuckled humorlessly, at least he'd gotten Castiel's angel blade out of the whole ordeal. Now he had two. A small whimper drew his attention. That reminded him…

Samandriel groaned, slowly opening his eyes, then blinking a few times. "Ah, so he wakes" the demon, Crowley, said, sauntering forward like royalty. 'Right' he thought, trying not to wince too much 'That's what he believes himself to be.' "I was never asleep" he replied. "Angles don't sleep." Crowley rolled his eyes. Truth was, Samandriel had been trying to strengthen himself, to allow his grace to heal him, to find enough power, just enough to contact Heaven, or at least his garrison…any sibling out there. He'd found all this to be impossible. Crowley's sigils blocked out most of his power, locked him in here, and locked other angels out. He's contact with his siblings, both those in Heaven, and those on earth, had been severed. His healing was near nonexistent. He was so tired... "I've been thinking" the demon said, as he walked around the chair that Samamdriel was strapped to, "About the other tablets." He continued to circle; Samandriel followed him with his eyes. "There must be so many, one for every monster out there… perhaps even one for humans… and…one for angels…" the demon trailed off. Samandriel tried not to panic. He didn't want to speak, but the pain of the angel blade was too much, it not only had the ability to cut through his vessel, but his grace, and even himself as well, the brilliant celestial being crammed inside this small human creature. There wasn't a pain in the world that could compare.

"As much as I want to get my hands on the Demon Tablet, because, let's face it, it probably has some juicy details that no one's ever dreamed of… I can't help but get curious as to what the Angel Tablet might hold…" Crowley conversed. "I don't know anything!" Samandriel cried out, unable to help himself. "Oh" Crowley said, stopping and turning to him with a smile "But I think you might" he said. Samandriel tried to calm his breathing as the demon came closer "But I don't… I don't! They can only be read by the prophet… I couldn't possibly know anything!" he said, his body beginning to quake. He couldn't even get out of his restraints; they had enochian sigils carved into them. "I don't know anything…" he mumbled, his head dropping low. He was too tired... "Hmm…" Crowley mused, stepping away. Samandriel tried hard not to breathe a sigh of relief. "You might not know much about the tablets, but I'm willing to bet you know as much about your species as I do about mine" he continued. Samandriel stiffened, closing his eyes tight. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the maul of the blade, the piercing pain, the shattering feeling when it sliced into his grace. He couldn't help but wonder if a stronger angel wouldn't have broken, if some of his elder siblings would have endured the pain. Here he was, a soldier from the moment of his creation, a warrior of God, reduced to trembling and whimpering, fearing a cross roads demon that believed itself to be a king. If his garrison could see him now… they'd likely leave him there.

"Now… you're going to cooperate, aren't you?" Crowley said, twirling his fingers, an angel blade appearing between them. He fastened his grip on the handle. The angel's eyes left his, trailing toward the blade without the angel's consent. He gasped, jerking back, wincing when the movement jarred his wounds. "Where did you get that?" he cried, eyes wide and fixed on the blade, the torture momentarily forgotten. "What?" Crowley asked, confused and a bit irritated that the angel wasn't shaking in its meat-suit. "That blade" the angel responded. The 'his blade' remained unspoken, it only took Crowley a moment to understand. All angel blades looked the same to him, but he knew angels didn't trade them around, each angel had their own, and that blade was theirs till they died. Crowley glanced down at the blade, it looked just like the one he had stolen from Samandriel… apparently Crowley had called forth Castiel's instead.

"Oh, this?" he said, stepping forward once more. "You like it?" Crowley asked, smiling a devious smile. "It's Castiel's" the angel responded, as if he hadn't heard Crowley. He seemed transfixed by the blade, his voice oddly flat. Crowley scowled. "Yes well, won't do him much good now" Crowley muttered. The angel flinched, as if he had been slapped. His eyes finally trained back on Crowley. "No" was all he said, "How did you get it? Castiel is…" he trailed off. Crowley didn't miss the small gleam of hope in his eyes. He smiled inwardly; this little angel was too much fun. Collecting himself, he straightened up, voice indifferent. "Still in Purgatory? No, afraid not darling. Got out some time ago" he said. Again, that small flare of hope in the angel's eye, Crowley couldn't be sure if the angel wanted to believe his sibling was alive, or if he still hoped to be rescued. "He won't be coming for you mate" he said, smiling with mock warmth. "Came after me solo… wasn't a match for my hell hounds… Did leave me this though" he said, waving the silver blade in the air.

"No" the angel repeated, even shaking his head slightly. "No… only an angel can-" "Kill an angel? I'm sorry darling, but you've been misinformed" Crowley interrupted. The angel glared up at him, defiance in his features. Oh, it was all the more fun to break them when they believed they'd rebuilt themselves, that they'd found strength. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes" Crowley said, his arm darting forward and stabbing the angel. The angel jerked, going ridged, before letting out a blood curling scream. Crowley yanked the blade back out. The angel sank back into his chair, whimpering softly. "Come now" Crowley said "No need for such a fuss." The angel opened his eyes and glared up at him for a moment, though he kept his head bowed from exhaustion, until his eyes drooped once more.

"Seriously… I should know… I tortured every creature… every Alpha… I could get my hands on to reach Purgatory… none of them made as much of a fuss as you… I think you'd even make Dean Winchester proud… Dean Winchester, the man who broke in thirty, while his father didn't break in the entire year, over a century in Hell... you take the prize kid" Crowley said, watching the angel [attempt to] compose himself, straighten up, raise his head, and look him in the eye once more. "You don't know true pain" he said, blood dripping out his split lip and down his chin, mixing with the dried blood that ran from his temple. "I see…" Crowley responded, glancing back down at his stolen angel blade. "Do they feel the same? Getting stabbed by your own blade, or another's? Or does an opponent's blade yield more damage?" he asked, truly curious. The angel didn't answer; he only slumped into his chair once more. "That was a direct question" Crowley said, stabbing the angel, and twisting this time. The angel went ridge and screamed, shutting his eyes tightly. "And I expect and answer."

Okay, so he was in a bad mood. Nothing more than was to be expected, considering he'd once again been forced to run from the very same angel who'd betrayed him, who'd tried to rule him when he decided he was God. The little angel in the chair proved to be a good punching bag. Or, well, stabbing bag. Not that Crowley was just torturing the angel for fun, not really. He truly did have questions, and he did ask them. The most important ones, however, where the ones Samandriel could not answer. How was Castiel back, yet again? Was he really stronger? How? And… how much stronger? Or was that light show really just that, a light show? Like a moth or butterfly extending its oddly colored wings in order to appear bigger and thus be left alone. How had the angel found him again? And…And what was with his eyes?

Crowley paced away from the trembling angel, deep in thought. Not the light show… the emotion… or... lack thereof. He had teased Dean when Castiel ignored him, and the demons surrounding him and Growley snarling not two feet away…but it wasn't like the angel to ignore the Winchesters, in all truth Crowley had feared the angel would launch himself at him at first sight of the boys in peril. And yet, he hadn't. He hadn't given priority to the hell hounds surrounding him, he hadn't trusted the Winchesters to take care of themselves, and it wasn't even that he hadn't cared… it had been nothing. No emotion…there was hardly recognition. The angel had acknowledged there were more demons in the room, and humans, then had gone back to his task of defeating the hell hounds. Mechanical almost… Like…like… "Like an angel" Crowley murmured to himself. He hardly noticed Samandriel, who twitched but decided to remain slumped, not caring enough of what the demon mused about. It was a silly thought, really, but…

Crowley paced away from the slumped angel, twirling Castiel's blade in his hand. He glanced at it, at how the light shone of its silvery surface. He might not be that old of a demon, but he certainly was old enough to remember the angels as they were before Lucifer's rising. Before emotions, thought, doubt, and free will became popular, he remembered when angels were warriors of God, and nothing more. A soldier, expendable, focused, following orders and nothing more. That, or a glimpse of that, was what he had seen when Castiel's eyes had glanced, for the briefest moment, toward the three captured humans. A soldier. A warrior of God, doing his duty, following orders, with nothing else mattering. No fear, a good soldier didn't fear death, as his life did not matter in the overall scheme of life, and no emotion. Crowley blinked, and then began twirling the blade once more, watching the dim light bounce off its surface. What if…

The demon had made one mistake, even if it was not entirely his own mistake; it had been made all the same. Angels were created with one blade, one blade to wield in battle, one blade to wield against their own brethren. An angel could only call forth his own blade. If an angel died, his blade could be taken, but it would never truly belong to anyone else. If the angel was not dead, then he could always find his blade, it was after all, his and connected to him. Crowley had taken his blade, had left it embedded in the hell hound in his rush to escape. Castiel could no longer call it back, which meant, where ever it was, it was behind angel sigils. He could still follow its trail, a trail which no human could ever see, until the point in which it disappeared from his senses. The point when the hell hound crossed into the protection of Crowley's sigils. Still, the search had been narrowed, all Castiel now had to find was the place he could not access, and he'd find his blade, Crowley, and the tablet.

Samandriel's lip trembled, his eyes stared at the floor, as if begging it to help him, since none of his siblings could hear his cries, perhaps the floor, stained with his vessel's blood, would take pity on him. Crowley couldn't help but think the little angel reminded him of a child, innocent, naive, weak…and yet it was a warrior of Heaven that he had bound. The angel had begun to refuse to answer Crowley's questions, as they had become more personal, about angels, Heaven, and weaknesses, specifically theirs. The angel had pressed his lips together and stared at Crowley with defiance. So the solider had finally made an appearance. The tablet was one thing, but to threaten the Host of Heaven, his family, was entirely different, it seemed. Crowley had pressed his lips together, not impressed, but the angel had proved resilient. He'd screamed and thrashed, as if to distract himself from the pain, perhaps with the impossible hope of escaping, or being heard and rescued. When that stopped working, he'd shrieked that he knew nothing. "Then how can I… acquire someone who will know?" Crowley had asked. Again the angel raised his exhausted head to stare Crowley dead in the eye. He might have begun to doubt his torturing technics, had the angel's gaze not wavered, had his lip not trembled. Crowley smiled softly to himself. "Well, then" he said, lifting the blade once more.

Growley snarled, a deep and menacing sound, from deep within its throat. Crowley turned to look at it in time to see his hell hound stand up, body tense, legs held stiff and straight, with its hackled raised. It glared at the wall, lips curled up in a snarl. "What?" Crowley asked, lowering his blade slightly. Samandriel slouched in his chair, gratefully taking the second of peace to rest. Growley only snarled louder, its claws scratching up the concrete floor.

"Sir!" a demon came racing forth, eyes wide. Growley twitched an ear in his direction, the only indication that it noticed the other's presence. "What?!" Crowley asked sharply, causing the demon to flinch. "He's here, the angel… Castiel" the last word was whispered, as if in fear that the angel would appear to smite them all if he heard his name called out loud. Crowley smiled humorlessly "He can't get in here" he said, his tone leaving the unspoken 'moron' hanging in the air, precautions had been taken, the entire building had been covered in sigils, not just the ones that held Samandriel. The demon shuffled his feet nervously, ducking his head and excusing himself when Crowley narrowed his eyes in irritation. 'Moron' Crowley thought with distain, turning to face Samandriel once more. The angel greeted him with a weak smile, that gleam of hope was back in his eye; Crowley found it a lot more irritating this time. "You're right" he said, his voice trembling, yet it somehow still holding strength, something only a being as powerful as an angel could pull off. "He's not coming for me… he's already here" the angel continued "Mate" the last word punctuated with a trembling yet relief filled smile, which reeked of faith. Crowley stabbed him once more. The angel's cries were oddly unsatisfying.

[This was turning to long, so I had to cut it in half... this seemed like the best place to do it... sorry. ^_^ Anyways, comments are alwayss appreciated, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.]