Dean fell to the ground, hardwood scraping against his hands as the guards jibed at him with laughter in their voices before stepping back out of the cabin they had thrown him in. It had been farther down the path, about three buildings down from where he had originally stayed, and he couldn't help but note how much dirtier and old this one looked in comparison.

It was only a moment after the guards left that he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, guiding him to his feet. When he looked up, his gaze landed on an older man, possibly in his thirties, with kind eyes and a worn face.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice almost tentative as he helped him to the bed, despite Dean not really needing the help, and sitting him down. Dean nodded, his fingers finding his hair in frustration as he looked out of the cabin, towards the guards with such a hatred rolling through his body that it left him shaking.

"Honey, you need to calm down," He heard a woman's voice say and his eyes searched out the woman standing there, looking vaguely familiar to Dean. She looked a lot like someone he knew, but his rage cut away all semblance of holding onto his thoughts and he couldn't remember where.

Dean stood, only a hand on his chest stopping him as he tried to go towards the exit of the cabin, "Cas. I need to help Cas," Dean said, his voice growing desperate as he pushed against the hand holding him, feeling softer, but tougher hands grab him from behind and drag him back like he was a rag doll.

"You need to sit your ass down and calm down!" The woman snapped, pushing him onto the bed as if he was nothing. He gazed up at her in shock, and her eyes softened slightly, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed and sighing.

"Now, calm down, and maybe we can help," She offered gently, and Dean exchanged a glance between her before looking to the other soldier, who just gave him a patient smile. Dean felt his breath catch a bit in his throat, but he struggled to get his thoughts in order, the anger abating for only a moment as he gathered his rage-soaked memories.

"They're threatening my...friend," Dean growled, taking several deep breaths to keep calm, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. He tried to stop the images of Castiel hurt and battered from invading his mind, only for his heart to jerk in his chest when it instead switched to the thought of a younger boy with dark brown hair in the same position, his hands clenching into fists as his nails dug into his palm.

"The interrogation?" The man cut in, his soft voice barely heard over the war waging in Dean's head. He needed to keep calm, but he didn't think he could, not with the life of an innocent person on the line. Still, he nodded, his throat clenching as the woman rubbed his back gently, a soothing gesture that meant nothing to him right now.

"It's okay, sweetie. They won't hurt him as long as you don't say anything," The woman tried to console, but Dean just shook his head, his thoughts already digging up a million ways they could destroy Castiel without actually killing him.

"He...he can't work without me," Dean snarled out, only in anger for himself and the ones causing this mess. He was going to fail Castiel like he had failed Sam, and he didn't think his heart could take any more of that guilt, "He's blind."

He heard a sharp intake of breath from the man, and the woman's hand stopped moving on his back, his words met with a momentary silence before the movement resumed, although farm more strained and hesitant than before.

"You two are the ones that have been causing such a fuss with the guards then," The woman whispered, the sympathy in her voice killing Dean because he knew that voice. He knew it was the voice of someone who felt sorry for him but could do nothing to aid him.

"They talk all the time about you," The other soldier commented, sitting down on the bed opposite Dean and sighing, "I'm sorry to say, but death is the least of your friend's worries right now."

"I know that!" Dean shouted, a snarl on his face as he shot his glare at the soldier, his hands tightening to dig into the bed sheets, feeling the scratchy fabric pull thin under his blunt nails, "Tell me how to stop it! Tell me how to keep him from getting hurt, you son of a bitch!"

The woman's touch stopped his anger instantly, the harsh glare of her eyes freezing him in place and holding him there, "Listen to me. I'm sorry, but you can't help him now. These guards are monsters, and they will not even give a moment's hesitation for doing whatever they want," She said, her voice as firm as a mother scolding her child. Dean felt bile rise in his throat as he gazed at those eyes, his world crashing down for the second time in his life at the realization that nothing could be done.

"What do I do then?" Dean asked, feeling so absolutely helpless as she just hugged him gently, her touch so reminiscent of what he remembered of his mother. Her face might have been blurry, but there was no way he could ever forget the gentle hugs she would always give him, the comfort he had in knowing that he was safe whenever he was in her arms.

It was surprising to find someone with the same touch.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," The woman answered, holding him gently as he hugged her back with all he had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could tell that Castiel was getting worse.

Although he wasn't allowed to be around Castiel, orders that the guards had made very very clear since he was moved to another cabin, Dean still worked with loading the sand trucks along with everyone else, and he could see Castiel struggling from his pile with Winters and Letts, stumbling over the smallest things without a hand to guide him. It wasn't like Winters and Letts didn't try to help, but they were chased off every time they attempted, and after a few days, they just gave up, leaving the blind man to his fate.

The struggling soldier was becoming a problem for the guards as well, their annoyances with him becoming clearer every time he made a simple mistake. All the while, they would jibe at him for being useless without his 'guide dog' and often caused problems for him on purpose for some sort of sick entertainment.

Dean was barely able to control his own body as he shakily jerked the bags and loaded them, his eyes never straying from the blind man.

The dinners were even worse, as Dean couldn't do anything to help the man. He could only watch, glowering at his table as Castiel was, finally, led by Winters to get the food and taken to his seat, only to sit there silently, not touching his plate until Letts forced him. It was becoming a continuous occurrence, and Dean could see it in the way that Castiel's lips were always pressed together in distress that the guards' words were finally sinking into his mind and infecting him. Dean's blood boiled, but the woman, who he soon figured out that her name was Mills, kept him in check, keeping him, and Castiel, safe.

The man, Shadson, would watch them quietly, and it became apparent that he didn't talk much. Still, he often would slip over to Castiel without the guards ever noticing, moving like a shadow, and speak quietly to him, which Dean assumed were words of encouragement by how thankful Castiel looked when he was told them.

He couldn't do it every day, though, less it drew attention, and on the days that Castiel was alone, Dean could only watch as the man struggled. But, the straw that broke the camel's back was when a guard walked over to Castiel, leaning closer and whispering something that made the man pale.

Mills didn't stand a chance to stop him as he found himself up and tackling the man in an instant, the world seeming slowed down to the point that the rest of the guards didn't have time to react to the sudden assault.

Then the world rushed to a regular speed and Dean found himself throwing punch after punch at the guard, his hands staining with blood and ignoring as he was struck back as the guard attempted to push him off. The commotion was drawing a rile out of the prisoners, but they did nothing more than shout as Dean grabbed the man and slammed his head into the ground again and again, fully intent on killing him.

He didn't get the chance as two guards grabbed him and dragged his thrashing form off the other man, twisting in their arms in an attempt to get back at him. As he was pulled towards the entrance of the building, he could see Castiel's shock face following him, those bandages around his eyes making him seem so young and scared, that he thought he saw Sam in his place for a moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blood spilled from his mouth as he nursed a bit tongue and busted lip and cheek, a small laugh leaving his throat as the guard that gave him his 'punishment' finally backed off. He had smiled through the entire event, not having the energy to bring himself to ever be regretful about what he did. His whole body may be stinging, save maybe his right hip which had gone strangely numb, but it made him happy to know that he had protected Castiel.

So, when the guards left him to slave his pain away in the prison cell, he collapsed to the floor, his face feeling swollen as he closed his eyes, letting the dizzying blackness take over and allowing him to rest.