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The world is saved. Lucifer and Michael are locked away in the cage, but they lost Anna, Bobby and Adam.
All that was left to do was to go explore the bunker they had learned about a few days prior.
They were still dealing with grief, but also a twisted sort of relief that it's over.
The building is warded to the gills, with every sigil they know and about a hundred more they don't.
Everything is covered in dust when they get inside, but they can see the potential. A library full of supernatural knowledge, and an armory with every weapon that they would ever need against a monster. It put the Impala trunk collection to shame (although Dean would never admit that).
On their second day of exploring the bunker, they delve deeper, to the lower floors.
They get the gist pretty quickly: torture and experimentation. And down the hall is a corridor of rooms with labels on the doors.
"Test Subject One"
"Test Subject Two"
"Test Subject Three"
It went on, the corridor going so long it curved around a corner.
Upon entering each one, they discovered remains of something long dead. They identified the skeletons based on anatomy and clues, like an old dried up bag of blood and sharp teeth.
"Last one, I'll bet you ten bucks it's another werewolf," Dean says.
"Yeah, I'm not taking that bet. Besides, look…" Sam replies, pointing at the symbols painted on the door.
"Is that Enochian?" Dean asks and they both share a Look. They leave to grab their angel blades and return to room number 11.
Sam opens the door and Dean quickly shines his flashlight inside. Chains rattle as the figure on the floor lifts their arm to cover their eyes from the blinding light. They fumble next to the door and switch on the overhead light so Dean can turn his flashlight off. The huddled figure, dressed in a suit with a trenchcoat, looking pretty old fashioned, lowers his arm and they see a flash of light in his squinted eyes.
Dean, recognizing that light as grace, lifts his angel blade but Sam rushes to grab his arm.
"Dean, no! We don't know he's bad,"
"He's an angel, they're all dicks,"
"Not all of them. C'mon Dean,"
Dean reluctantly lowers his weapon but keeps a watchful eye on the angel as Sam crouches next to him.
"Hello," he greets. The angel blinks, trying to adjust to the light. "I'm Sam, and that's Dean,"
Dean throws his hands up in disbelief.
"Don't give him our names! Dude,"
Sam ignores his brother.
"What's your name?"
"Castiel," the angel speaks, startling them with his deep, gravelly voice.
"The Men of Letters are all long dead, we recently found this bunker and have been going through everything," Sam explains.
"What year is it," Castiel asks roughly.
"2016, how long have you been down here?"
"1955,"
"Damn," Dean says, finally showing some sympathy.
Sam looks down at the chain on the angel's wrist.
"They welded them without locks," Castiel explains, lifting his shackles to better show Sam.
"That won't be easy to get off…"
"Sam, outside, now,"
They step outside, closing the door. They don't notice the desperate look in Castiel's eyes.
"Do you really think it's a good idea to let this guy go, he could have a vendetta against humans,"
"Dean, c'mon. He was captured long before the apocalypse plans, and hunters have already wronged him enough. We have to,"
Dean sighs, knowing that he's already lost this argument.
"There was a room with a bunch of tools, I'll go look for a blowtorch," Dean says and leaves down the hall. Sam re-enters the room and this time he does notice Castiel as he lets out a small sigh of relief.
Sam kneels again, but it's at that moment he notices the skeleton hidden away in the corner, making him startle pretty hard.
"Who is- was that?"
"My other vessel… they made me switch between the two,"
"Oh… so they kept two humans captive as well?"
"Yes, but I let Jimmy's soul go to Heaven after Claire died, when it became clear the Men were never coming back," Castiel explains with a sad sigh. "They were father and daughter, Claire was only 10 when they took her and 13 when she… It wasn't fair that they were induced in this as well,"
Sam swallows thickly, looking at the skeleton and noticing that it's smaller than an adult skeleton.
"Couldn't they just say no? To you possessing them?"
"They tried, but we found out that wasn't a good option for any of us… but after they never came back, Claire refused to do it again, no matter how much we both begged her," Castiel explains, his eyes going dark as he gets lost in the memories.
"We'll give her a proper burial, I promise," Sam says and Castiel gives him a weak nod.
"At least they were reunited in Heaven," Castiel says, looking away from the skeleton.
"So, it's just you in that body? I didn't know that was possible," Sam asks, looking down at Cas's body.
"I didn't either, I assumed I would die too."
Sam swallows thickly. They hear footsteps and Castiel instinctively tenses up.
"Found it!" Dean exclaims and Castiel relaxes. Dean enters the room and holds up the blowtorch in victory.
"With fresh fuel," he adds as he sets it down to start putting on the protective gear he also found to go along with it. Sam lets him take on the task, since this is way more in Dean's ballpark of skills.
"Will this burn you?" Dean asks as an afterthought.
"Not unless the fuel you used was holy oil,"
"Nah," he says and flips down the visor of the headgear. He gets the archaic tool started and holds it right up to the metal around the first set, which are on his wrists.
It's a long, tedious process but eventually the chain falls away and clatters on the floor. Castiel immediately goes to rub his newly free wrist.
"Sweet! Okay, next one," Dean says with a proud smirk.
They continue this process on the other wrist, his ankles and his neck. Once the last one drops, Castiel takes a heavy breath, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.
"How's that feel?" Dean asks, switching off the blowtorch.
"Wonderful, thank you," he says. Sam gets up and offers him a hand, which Dean sees and goes to do as well. They each grab a hand and pull the angel to his feet.
"Let's get out of this hellhole," Dean says and leads the charge through the door.
Castiel is weak from all the years chained to the floor, so the brothers offer support as he leans heavily on them. They make their way through the halls until they reach the map room.
"Are you going to go back to Heaven? You should know it might be different after the whole apocalypse thing," Sam asks.
"The what,"
"Right, lots to catch up on, huh?"
"For right now, I am too weak to make it to Heaven so I'll have to recover on Earth,"
"You're welcome to stay here- in a room, of course, and you would be able to leave whenever you want," Dean offers and is quick to add reassurances.
"I'm afraid I think that's my only option, the wards on this bunker are strong, I might not be able to leave without them being broken,"
"Oh man…" Dean mutters, looking up at the wards littered on the higher parts of the wall.
"We'll do our best to make it so you can leave, but I agree with Dean, you're welcome here until you recover,"
"Thank you, I appreciate your kindness… you are not like other hunters,"
Less than an hour later, Sam is carrying a box through the main area. He sets it carefully down on the table where Castiel is sitting with a warm cup of coffee.
"I'm sorry you can't be there, are you sure you don't want to wait until you're free?" Sam asks.
"No, I don't personally hold any attachment to her remains, but I know it's what they would've wished,"
Sam nods in understanding and picks the box back up. Dean is waiting outside, covered in dirt and sweat after digging the grave.
Sam jumps down into the hole to set down the box before climbing back out.
"We sure we shouldn't torch these bones?"
"Castiel assured me her soul didn't remain in the veil,"
Dean nods and starts shoveling the unearthed pile back into the hole. Sam makes a grabbing motion towards the shovel but Dean purposefully ignores it, continuing his shoveling.
"I can't believe they held two humans like that. It's not right with monsters either but they can't even use the excuse "they're just monsters" here,"
Dean doesn't reply, too busy huffing as he buries the box. Sam knows he agrees though.
The mood is somber, because how could it not be while burying the body of a 13 year old that spent the last three years of her life in captivity as a test subject.
"Are you sure we can trust this guy," Dean finally says, taking a break from burying to catch his breath.
"No, but he deserves the benefit of the doubt,"
Dean nods.