Captured

Harry struggled against the bindings around his wrists. His shoulders protested, but he pushed the pain aside. His voice was trapped behind a dirty rag tied around his mouth. His arms were bound over his head and he could barely reach the floor with the tips of his shoes. His hands had gone numb a long while ago.

"Enough of that racket." Crowley snapped of his fingers.

Harry gasped when a burning pit erupted deep in his gut. He screamed into the gag, vision turning white.

Crowley glanced at his watch. "Honestly. Can't expect an ounce of punctuality from anyone these days," he sighed. He whistled at his demons standing around the abandoned office. "Watch him." He needed to stretch his legs. A stroll would do nicely. He snapped his fingers before he walked out the door.

Harry slumped with a quiet whimper, tasting blood in his mouth.

"What would he want with Harry?" Dean ripped the map off the wall and tossed it on the table that Sam had hurriedly cleared out.

"I don't know," Castiel mumbled, his eyes quickly scanning the old book in his hand. He had to track Crowley down. Ingredients.

He disappeared, causing the book to fall to the floor.

Sam collected it without complaint and threw it on the bed so it was out of the way. "It's a trap, Dean," he said what he had been thinking for the past few minutes. "You know it is."

"It's always a trap." Dean checked his revolver and slid it under his waistband. "We just need the upper hand, that's all." He had the demon-killing knife on him too. "I'm going out to the car. Grab some supplies."

"Yeah."

Castiel reappeared with an armful of herbs, bones, and vials. He dumped them on the table by the map. "Bowl." Sam pushed an empty ice bucket towards him. He quickly started on the concoction.

"What does Harry know?"

"Nothing."

"Cas…"

"He doesn't know anything," Castiel muttered through gritted teeth. "I kept him out of this. He knows nothing."

"But you haven't kept him out of this," Sam argued. "Crowley has him because of you." He reached out to grab Castiel's hand, to stop the flurry of motion. "Listen to me."

Castiel forced himself to be still even though he wanted nothing more than to shake Sam off. "I have to find him," he said with as much calm as he could muster. "I have to find him soon. We have no time."

"Don't come with us."

He was running out of patience now. "I'm coming with you." He jerked his hand away and continued with the spell. "It's my fault and I'm coming with you."

"That's what Crowley wants," Dean interjected as he walked in the room with a duffle bag full of salt, a couple shotguns, holy water, and knives. "He wants you to slip up. I agree with Sam. You should stay put."

Castiel didn't respond. He tapped out the last drop of blood into the bucket. It was done. He swirled the foul liquid a few times. Once it was set on fire and poured over the map, Crowley's location will show up if he hadn't masked it. He struck a match and dropped it into the bucket. Blue flames shot out, melting plastic. He quickly poured the contents out onto the map.

The paper caught on fire, spreading from the middle outwards to the edges. Then the flames ate away at the map, creeping towards its final destination. Sam and Dean moved closer to see with bated breath.

When the fire burnt out, the only piece left on the map was a small town in northwest Idaho.

The brothers glanced at each other warily. Sure, they made impulsive decisions all the time. But Castiel never did.

"Let's go," the angel said while reaching into his coat to pull out his angel blade. When he was met with silence, he raised his impatient eyes at the Winchesters. "We have to go now."

"Yeah." Dean stifled his sigh. "Give us a minute." He set the duffle bag down and started gearing up. He had a very bad feeling about this.

Harry tilted his head up. The rope was chaffing, tough. He tried to pull his magic in and push it out to his hands. Without his wand... He forced the thought out of his head and focused on the rope. Cut it. Burn it. Loosen it. Blood started to rush back up into his fingers, awakening them. If only he could just-

A blow to the chest winded him, breaking his concentration. He coughed and dropped his gaze to find a black eyed man sneering at him. "Stay put," he was told.

To hell with that.

He twisted his hands, gripped the rope between his fists and pulled himself up. He threw his chest back and used the momentum to swing his legs out, kicking the demon square in the stomach to send him staggering back.

There was startled silence in the room for a moment.

The fallen demon tilted his head at the bound man, a strange expression flickering across his face. "You really shouldn't have done that..."

By the time Crowley returned from his little walk, his hostage was much worse for wear. "We want him alive," he reminded his henchmen.

It wasn't long before Castiel, Sam and Dean arrived in an abandoned building in the middle-of-nowhere, Idaho. Through shuttered windows, they could see an unmaintained street riddled with potholes. There were fences around old buildings with 'Keep Out' signs and barbed wire. It was like a ghost town. Castiel's attention was on the five-storey building in front of them, the one guarded by four men in leather jackets. "Demons." He could tell by their true faces.

"So this is the right place," Dean figured.

"Let's go."

"Whoa." They pulled Castiel back. "Not so fast."

"Harry is in there," the angel insisted. "We have to-"

"Take care of the guards first," Sam told him. "We can't just waltz in there."

Before Dean could agree, Castiel had vanished.

The Winchesters gawked out the window when the angel simply appeared in front of the demons and killed them with his angel blade in a matter of seconds.

Castiel got back to them, blade in hand. "Now can we go inside?"

"… Yeah."

The three of them snuck across the street and into the dilapidated office building in broad daylight. It was strange not working in the dark, at least for Sam and Dean. They stopped in the dusty lobby and looked at Castiel expectantly.

He shook his head at them, brows furrowed. "I can't… I don't know which floor. It's scrambled." He looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

"We'll search," Dean said. "This way." He waved them towards the stairs.

Castiel knew he would be faster. "I'm going ahead."

"No, you-"

He had already disappeared.

"Shit," Dean swore as he raced to the door leading upstairs.

Fourth floor.

Castiel appeared in the dusty room, the flutter of his coat echoing against the bare walls.

His heart sank at the sight before him.

Harry was tied up at the far end, pale and strained from torture. And scattered around him were demons, eyes black as coal and faces twisted into loathsome expressions.

Crowley waved his arms in a grand gesture. "Castiel. Welcome."