Pity The Saved, Not The Damned

Anywhere But Here

Sam held onto Castiel, his bag falling on the floor as he tried to regain his footing. Damn he forgot how much he hates that way of transportation.

His eyes refocused to the new environment to see a fist flying to his face. Connecting to his jaw, dropping him onto the floor. His gun flung out of his hand as he landed on his ass, "What the Hell is wrong with you?" Dean shouted at him, shaking with rage.

Sam scoffed, massaging his jaw, where he could taste copper, nice to see him too, "What, are Hello's too much for you or something?"

Castiel sighed and offered a hand to Sam, who hesitantly took it. As he stood up, his own rage built watching Dean walk off.

"Funny, you'd think that you're the one who was just met with a cheap shot!" Sam shouted at him, Castiel kept a grip on Sam, it wouldn't hold Sam if he wanted to get away. Just a reminder to keep himself in check.

Dean turned back with a quickness though, "We could handle this, I've been wanting to knock you a new one for a while now."

"Let's not," Castiel said, cupping a hand to Sam's jaw, healing it instantly, "We can talk."

"I'd rather get some swings in," Sam said, pulling away from Castiel, Dean couldn't help but agree.

"Funny that you think you will," Dean argued fueling the fire.

"No. That's not what he's here for." Castiel remained firm. Being the only voice of reason.

Both Winchesters rolled their eyes, if Sam was going to be dragged here, at the very least he should get some hits in. If not for what just happened, for his last visit.

They both considered just doing it anyway, but Castiel caught on and stepped in between them. Dropping both of them to the ground with a simple touch to their heads.

When will they learn, Castiel wondered.

They woke up tied to chairs, both on opposite sides of the room, "Really, Cas?" Sam groaned. He was able to loosen himself out of it, but still.

"It was necessary." Castiel replied.

Dean was able to get his hands free immediately as well, it would have worked a lot better if Cas didn't suck at tying. But both stayed put so it didn't matter much.

They glared at each other for a minute, before Dean sighed, "Where have you been?" Dean asked Sam.

"Fuck if I know," Sam said, "Witches don't give coordinates. I've been following their directions, and they aren't exactly number based."

"Witches?" Dean asked, "What are you doing talking to witches?"

Sam laughed, "I mean, you're basically talking to one right now. I figured you'd know by now," he looked over at Castiel, "isn't he aware of my suicide mission? You've got to know."

"I didn't tell him," Castiel confirmed, "I had hoped I'd be able to tell him in a way that didn't make him look like that."

Dean's face was a mixture of pain, guilt, anger, betrayal, and he tried to mask it all. Slowly and devoid of emotion, Dean asked, "Is that what you've been doing since you've been gone?"

Sam shrugged, "Well, yeah, I've been trying to trap the Devil in my mind. Can't do that very well when I'm awake, and a coma would do, but he wakes me from those. So. If that won't do, I need to stay dead."

Dean didn't say anything, Castiel looked lost on what to say. Sam was looking Castiel over but couldn't find anything that indicated he had been in some sort of trouble.

"Did something happen in Heaven?" Sam finally asked him, Castiel watched Sam carefully. There's only so many ways he could've known. None good.

He nodded, "Yes, I was called for judgement." Sam had no idea what that entailed but Castiel's haunted look painted a picture, "Why did you ask?"