[ He should have been expecting the blow to the head, but with all Castiel's pontificating about being chosen by God and blabbity blah, he'd thought maybe there'd have been at least some pomp and circumstance.
Dean finds out the hard way that Uriel is not like Castiel. He doesn't have patience for Dean's glib demeanor, nor does he have the tolerance for his antics. When Dean rouses in the SUV, he realizes his hands and ankles are bound again with zip ties, and before he can start shouting and fighting, he's force fed a few sips of water that doesn't taste quite right, and he's out again.
When the car rolls to a stop, Dean is still unconscious from the drugs, though he's forced to his feet, a bag over his head as he's dragged out of the car. He can't tell if it's day or night, all concept of time has been lost in the hours he's been hour. Castiel had told him it was a twelve hour drive, but he honestly isn't sure if it's been twelve, ten, or twenty.
There is a lot of commotion as he's hauled through the... compound? House? Church? ( he isn't sure ), but his head swims from what could have only been Rohypnol laced water, so he doesn't understand or recognize any of the voices. ]
Cas? [ Dean croaks, but no one pays him any mind. They speak over him, as if he doesn't exist, as if he's a sack of potatoes they're hauling through the corridors. He might as well be for how they're treating him, shoving him along, only catching him before he falls into something more important than him; another person, a wooden statue. ]
Castiel? [ He keeps asking for Castiel, but no one answers, no one cares, and Dean is too weak at the moment to fight. Strong arms haul him down, down, down, until something metal and heavy is clamped around his neck, and the telltale clink of chain is locked into place.
The hood is finally yanked off, and it's Uriel's face he sees as the door is pulled shut, and Dean is locked in a cell by himself, cold, alone, with only a bucket to utilize. He's too groggy to do anything but pass out, but oh once that door opens hours and hours later by some innocent dipshit bringing food, Dean is a howler monkey, railing against his chains, lunging for them, flinging hot soup back at them. They should for backup, and Dean again sees the butt of a gun, and he's out.
When he wakes again, there's a meal on the floor beside him, plastic utensils resting on a paper napkin, but he doesn't eat. He pushes it to the side, and ignores it. He's fairly sure this many concussions in a short amount of time is probably bad for his brain health, but it doesn't stop him from attacking again the next time someone tries to bring him food.
This time, he gets tased. It drops him like a sack of bricks, leaves him twitching on the ground as someone places a tray down and takes away what wasn't touched.
The trend will continue, Dean a snarling animal, not eating, until days have passed and he's weak, stomach snarling, dehydrated, but unwilling to cooperate. He hears footsteps, though, despite Castiel's efforts to be quiet, and he's waiting for the door to open to launch another assault when he recognizes the voice. ]
Cas? [ His voice is rough, raw - he's exhausted and starving (his own fault, but who knows what's in that food), and if anything should be noted, he sounds weak as a kitten. ] Cas, is that you?
*says cas over and over*
Dean finds out the hard way that Uriel is not like Castiel. He doesn't have patience for Dean's glib demeanor, nor does he have the tolerance for his antics. When Dean rouses in the SUV, he realizes his hands and ankles are bound again with zip ties, and before he can start shouting and fighting, he's force fed a few sips of water that doesn't taste quite right, and he's out again.
When the car rolls to a stop, Dean is still unconscious from the drugs, though he's forced to his feet, a bag over his head as he's dragged out of the car. He can't tell if it's day or night, all concept of time has been lost in the hours he's been hour. Castiel had told him it was a twelve hour drive, but he honestly isn't sure if it's been twelve, ten, or twenty.
There is a lot of commotion as he's hauled through the... compound? House? Church? ( he isn't sure ), but his head swims from what could have only been Rohypnol laced water, so he doesn't understand or recognize any of the voices. ]
Cas? [ Dean croaks, but no one pays him any mind. They speak over him, as if he doesn't exist, as if he's a sack of potatoes they're hauling through the corridors. He might as well be for how they're treating him, shoving him along, only catching him before he falls into something more important than him; another person, a wooden statue. ]
Castiel? [ He keeps asking for Castiel, but no one answers, no one cares, and Dean is too weak at the moment to fight. Strong arms haul him down, down, down, until something metal and heavy is clamped around his neck, and the telltale clink of chain is locked into place.
The hood is finally yanked off, and it's Uriel's face he sees as the door is pulled shut, and Dean is locked in a cell by himself, cold, alone, with only a bucket to utilize. He's too groggy to do anything but pass out, but oh once that door opens hours and hours later by some innocent dipshit bringing food, Dean is a howler monkey, railing against his chains, lunging for them, flinging hot soup back at them. They should for backup, and Dean again sees the butt of a gun, and he's out.
When he wakes again, there's a meal on the floor beside him, plastic utensils resting on a paper napkin, but he doesn't eat. He pushes it to the side, and ignores it. He's fairly sure this many concussions in a short amount of time is probably bad for his brain health, but it doesn't stop him from attacking again the next time someone tries to bring him food.
This time, he gets tased. It drops him like a sack of bricks, leaves him twitching on the ground as someone places a tray down and takes away what wasn't touched.
The trend will continue, Dean a snarling animal, not eating, until days have passed and he's weak, stomach snarling, dehydrated, but unwilling to cooperate. He hears footsteps, though, despite Castiel's efforts to be quiet, and he's waiting for the door to open to launch another assault when he recognizes the voice. ]
Cas? [ His voice is rough, raw - he's exhausted and starving (his own fault, but who knows what's in that food), and if anything should be noted, he sounds weak as a kitten. ] Cas, is that you?