Endings and Beginnings

[winchester_lost]

It had been completely by accident that he'd found the first note.  He'd been sitting in the Impala with Sam and Bobby, reeling from what had happened.  Cass was a God.  He'd snapped his fingers and Raphy, one of the archangels, had exploded like an over-ripe grapefruit dropped from the top of a ten story building.  He and Sam had been arguing

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[winchester_lost]

It hurt so much being able to see, hearing in those words that even that didn't reach Cass. His words were taken as what Cass expected, wanted, not what they were. It clinched the fact that he was too deep in this to be reached. And that left him only the noose he had under his coat.

He really hadn't wanted to use the noose. He hadn't really wanted to have to use Death's power to bind Cass and drag him back to the panic room, even if he knew this was how it was going to play out. The only question at this stage was whether or not he'd live through the attempt. He did not flinch when Cass touched his head, or those fingers drifted to his shoulders. He nodded in acceptance because there was nothing left to say.

This was the only way he could reach him.

He was remarkably physical capable and he'd practiced this, knowing that he'd have only a second from when it became obvious what he was doing, to dead. And Dead meant Cass didn't get saved. Not to mention being an option Dean was not particularly fond of, having been through it a few times. He really didn't like the idea of adding 'exploded into gorified chunky tomato soup by the power-drunk former-angel I love' to the list. 'Ripped apart by Hellhounds' was bad enough.

He rose obediently, fingers casually ducking into his coat, wrapping around the rope. It was cold, icy to the touch. He kept the motion smooth, adjusting the angles of his body, his hazel eyes watching Castiel. He was not his enemy. But, for this moment, he was dangerous. And then he moved, his heart suddenly racing like thunder in his ears.

One heartbeat. His hand moving up, the old noose held in his fingers as he pivoted on his feet, shifting to slide it down in the shortest amount of time possible. The noose wasn't made of modern materials. It was thousands of years old, before the days of Christ, and yet it felt firm and unyielding in his hands.

Two. He brought it down, the rope touching against the back of Cass' neck. Hazel eyes looking into blue eyes, intent, still loving, as much as he had been on his knees.

Three. He tightened the knot, his hand lingering there. His body was tensed, a tremble that stayed in his shoulders, waiting.

[seekthesilence]

He had always underestimated Dean.

He didn't see the noose until it was too late. He saw it, and as it registered, as he realized what it was that Dean was holding and what he was planning to do -- that he had lied to his face as he had supposedly sworn his loyalty -- the noose fell around his neck and was drawn tight.

He could feel it crashing down. It felt like ice cutting through him to the core, chilling the heat of his power, of the energy and the souls inside him until he felt... weak. The souls were there, still inside him, still trapped potential energy, but he couldn't reach it. He couldn't will it to the surface. Neither could he tap his own energy. He was left completely helpless.

Completely human, though he was anything but. He was so much more than human, or maybe so much less.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice still the stilted, cold tone, that odd distance that had always been with him, even before purgatory had opened, but there was an edge of panic in it. That same edge of panic was in his eyes, but wilder. So much more wild.

"What have you done?" he asked as he grabbed wildly for the noose, even though he knew there was nothing he could do. He couldn't pull it away. So he refocused his anger, his furious disbelief on Dean.

Instead of coming at him with an explosion of light or a tap of his fingers that left him bleeding on the floor, he came at him with fists. One connected, hard, right in the chest. It wasn't the best blow, it wasn't planned or perfect, but he was still reeling from the loss. Reeling from the fact that Dean had the gall to take this from him. He was rounding for another blow, planned to rain them down on him like the wrath of God he no longer had access to, until, broken and bleeding, Dean would free him.

He was still underestimating Dean. He would never learn, it seemed.

[winchester_lost]

Dean hadn't lied, though he knew that Cass couldn't understand that. That this was betrayal. He only hoped that after, he'd see that as much as the fact that he'd ended up this way had all been for them, that Dean was doing this for Cass. The fist that hit his chest made him gasp, but, it was much better than he'd expected. He'd half expected that this wouldn't work, or at least wouldn't work enough to keep Cass from destroying him for his betrayal. He was pleasantly surprised.

He took a few of the next blows, instead going for the handcuffs in his pocket. He had not come unprepared. He had come armed for the best while half-expecting the worst. He stepped a little to the side of the next blow, tongue flicking at the blood from his split lip as he slapped one cuff around the subdued God's wrist, ratcheting it down snugly. He then stepped behind him, wincing a little as he took another blow to the side of his ribs. It hurt, yes. But it hit in the normal way that being hit did, not like the last time Cass had beaten him.

Keeping one hand on the handcuffs, he used his other to go for Cass' arm, yanking, fighting against him to pull it back so that he could catch his other hand in the cuffs. His breath was coming fast as they struggled.

"I'm tying you up because I care. I will save you, Cass, even if you don't want to be saved."

He kicked at the back of Cass' knees, trying to wrestle him down to the ground so he could finish restraining him.