Castiel felt his feet land and his stomach lighten. He had doubled over, gripping his stomach, and heaving. He couldn’t throw up if he wanted to. His stomach was empty, but still, he couldn’t help but feel the sickness that came with traveling in such a way. Castiel had his hand placed on the ground before he could handle standing. He looks up in the crouching position he had put himself in before standing up. “Sam?” Castiel asked as he saw the youngest, yet tallest Winchester lying on a couch. Castiel looks over his surroundings as he moves over to stand near Sam. He was inside. Maybe a hotel room? Yes, it wasn’t a motel like he would have expected it to be. The wallpaper was elegant with white, detailed wood framing along the edges of the whole room. Castiel turns around to see a Sony TV sitting on top of a TV stand with brown stained wood. He looks to his right and sees a wall extending across half of the room beside the couch. Castiel tilts his head to the side as he moves to round the corner of the wall. He finds a queen size bed with neatly made sheets and a comforter wrapped around it. The bed had several pillows and had a brochure of the hotel placed on it. Castiel walks to the bed and grabs the brochure, reading the text at the top.

Welcome to Sweet Escape Inn!

Castiel had found the name ironic. “Sweet Escape?” he questions aloud, “There was nothing sweet in that place and I couldn’t even get Dean out.” Castiel looks down as he zones out in self-loathing. But he couldn’t worry about that now. He had at least one of the Winchesters with him now and said Winchester was passed out on the couch, bloody and possibly in need of a medical room.

Castiel rounds the corner and looks over Sam. He didn’t look as bad as his brother had, but that didn’t mean he was alright. Castiel had suspected that the demons took a liking into Sam more, but Crowley liked Dean more, which was obviously no picnic for either of them. He kneeled at the foot of the couch and looked at the sleeping face that had been through so much. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he apologized to the unconscious man, “We’ll get him back. I won’t fail this time.”

Sam had woken up as a sharp pain went through his head. “Ohwww!” he yelps startled. He had been expecting a demon to be running a knife along him again and said demon must have broken through the already mangled skin. But, he was wrong. He found Castiel hovering over him with a wash cloth and a syringe. “Sorry, It’s just pain medication,” Castiel informs as he wiped the blood from Sam’s forehead with the damp wash cloth.

“Cas!?” Sam says in surprise. He tries to sit up, but his state of being prevents him from doing so. He groans in pain as he lays his weight back onto the couch cushions. Sam looks down at his chest to see the mess of dried blood staining his clothing. He felt his clothes clinging to him as he shifted to get comfortable, or at least make the pain ease up.

“You shouldn’t move too much. You still need stitches,” Castiel informs as he continues to clean the head wound, “I would have taken you to the doctors by now, but they would want information that I do not want to give, nor do I have it.”

Sam looks at Castiel in astonishment as he finished looking around. “Where the hell are we? What’s going on?” Sam asks anxiously.

Castiel bites at the inside of his bottom lip. Now’s as good a time to tell him as any other time. He pulls the wash cloth way from Sam’s face before looking him in the eyes. “I’m playing ‘a game’ with Crowley. Dean wouldn’t let me take anyone but you from that prison, so Crowley transported us here,” Castiel explains further, “It’s more of a deal than a game. I could take one of you away from wherever you two were and if we find the other and escape with our lives, we get to live and Crowley will be obligated to let us flee.”

Sam’s voice seizes in shock. His throat swells as he chokes back a sob... or a scream, he can’t think straight. “You chose me to get out first? Why not Dean!?”

“Because he begged me to save you. He knew that it wouldn’t be guaranteed that we would be able to find you, and he knew it was the same situation in vise versa. He would rather you get out of there so you didn’t have to go through whatever they have been doing to you two than himself escaping and I listened to him,” Castiel explained without looking up at Sam. He hated the thoughts of what could be happening to the oldest Winchester at this very moment, but he didn’t show it in his face. He had shut off all emotions in the process of each thought, before he looks up to Sam. He could feel the anger that radiated off of Sam, but he wasn’t affected by it at the least.

“You didn’t let me in on this conversation?! We have to go get him now!” Sam commands, holding back most of his anger as he knows how convincing Dean is to Castiel.

Castiel shakes his head and stands up. “I don’t know where he is,” Castiel says, his emotions breaking though, “I don’t know where he is, what is happening to him, and if I’ll ever see him again!” Castiel nearly breaks down. His eyes begin watering again and his hands start shaking. He grabs the wash cloth that he had set down on the floor and fled into the bathroom. He just needed to get a move on things. He needed to focus on tending to Sam’s wounds at the moment. He couldn’t keep thinking about this. Castiel felt his stomach gnawing at his insides as he ran the cloth under warm water. How long had it been since he had eaten anything? He felt his eyes give in and drops of water like liquid fall from them. Tears. He took in a deep breath as he rung out the rag and shook off his hands. Castiel walked out of the bathroom and handed the cloth to Sam before checking the mini fridge for food.

Sam watched Castiel as he searched the fridge. He couldn’t say that he has ever seen Castiel even close to crying, but now tiny streams were flowing from his eyes. He felt a hinge of guilt as he watched the ex-angel. Sam kept his head down and unattached his shirt from his body, revealing his horribly bruised and sliced stomach. He spread out the rag and folded it accordingly before he began to clean off the dried blood.

Castiel held his breath too keep from sobbing, but that didn’t stop the odd water that came from his eyes. It was a weird feeling, but it offered relief. It fell warm against his cheeks and blurred his vision. He had found the mini-fridge fully stalked with various packaged drinks and food. He had grabbed two bottles of water and a couple of fruit cups. Castiel closes the mini-fridge and heads over to the coffee table in front of the couch. He sets down the food and water and sits crisscross on the floor, wiping his face with his sleeve. He still had blood on his hand from when Dean grabbed him...

Sam clears his throat and lays the rag on the back of the couch. He sat up with determination, not getting a complaint from Castiel this time, and lets out a ragged breath. He pulled his shirt completely off, seeing that it’s mostly torn anyway. He grabs one of the fruit cups and opens them. Sam eats the cold, sweet pineapples with great pleasure. He hadn’t had anything decent to eat since him and Dean had been on the hunt. Sam looks up at Castiel slightly, his face still wet with tears and his face a bit red.

Castiel sniffs, finding that his nose ran when he let the tears go. Castiel had gulped down his bottle of water already and was now working on opening the cup of peaches. He wiped his nose on his sleeve before grabbing the plastic fork from the table and taking a bite of the peaches. Soon enough, all the fruit was gone from both boys’ cups and the water had been drunk. Castiel cleaned up the empty containers and grabbed the sewing kit that he kept in his winter jacket. He scooted the coffee table out of the way and squatted in front of Sam, pushing him to lie against the back of the couch. He opened the small box that contained a needle and thread, along with a small roll of bandaging. Castiel, although he hadn’t been able to understand much, had learned how to stitch together wounded skin. Sam was probably one of the worst cases he has ever stitched, though he had only given himself stitches. He properly wiped the dried blood from the wounds and doused them with alcohol so an infection wouldn’t occur. Castiel, one by one, stitched every last wound that needed it. It wasn’t as neat or pretty as it would have been if a professional had done it, but Castiel was proud of his work as he looked over the skin.

Sam had been a bit loopy from the drug that Castiel had shot into his forehead. Why he gave him the medication in his forehead, he will never know, but it made him feel comfortably numb. He was lying with his feet propped up on the table and his back on the couch. Castiel had seen a wound in Sam’s shoulder that needed to be stitched, so he was sitting on his legs as he repaired he mangled flesh.

“You need sleep. We’ll be going to look for Dean in the morning,” Castiel says, “You can sleep in the bed-“ Castiel looks down at the youngest Winchester. He was already passed out and looking surprisingly peaceful. Castiel sighs and looks in the dresser, finding a white threaded blanket. He lightly draped the blanket over Sam before rounding the corner to sleep on the bed. He took off most of his clothing, staying in his t-shirt and boxers. Castiel un-tucked the sheets and the comforter from the mattress to lied down. He shifted in the bed before noticing a piece of paper on the floor. It must have fallen out of his clothing. He stretched to reach it and settled back in the bed before opening the mysterious paper. It was a note...from Crowley.

Castiel,

As you know, the games have only just started. Yes, you may have Moose, but I have Squirrel. We all just want to know; now that Dean is out of the picture, will you fall in love with the brother?

 If you thought that Sam looked bad, wait till you see how your hunter is looking. You should hear the sounds he makes. His scream is beautiful and a bit off of pitch, but don’t worry about that. It’ll get worse.

I bet you’re dying to know what I’m doing to him to cause him so much pain. Of course, I won’t just answer your question, but put this into view: Everything

Are we having fun yet, angel?

Love Always,

The King of Hell

Castiel’s hands ball up into fists as he finishes. He began to shake again and his heart was pounding. He didn’t know what to do. He was in some fancy hotel while Dean suffered in that hell house. He feels the prickle of tears forming in the corners of his eyes again and before you know it, he’s curled up in a ball with a death grip on the note, sobbing hysterically.

Sam had woken up first. He was sore, but comfortable on actual furniture. He sat up, his muscles aching with each move, and peered around the corner. He saw Castiel curled up in a ball asleep. His face looked pale, maybe a bit sickly. Sam saw a wad of paper next to the bed of the former angel. Sam bent down, though it hurt, and grabbed the paper. He leaned against the wall and quietly flattened it. Sam read it quickly. He looks over to Castiel with wide eyes and notices that his pillow was damp. His face turns in hurt as he looks at the tired, sleeping face of his friend. He dropped the page and went out of the hotel room to get breakfast.

Castiel had woken up to the sound of Sam coming back in with breakfast. Both boys stayed silent as they ate and got ready to leave. They had no luggage, but Castiel had always carried a few 20s in his pocket, just in case.

“We don’t have a car,” Sam says in realization.

Castiel almost chuckles and walks over to the bus that was boarding people. “We don’t need a car,” he says as he enters the bus.  They soon find out that they were in Michigan... in the winter.