"It's just ten more," Castiel murmurs, but his voice is strained, weak. He cried himself hoarse during the punishment. "I can take ten more. Sam, I'm sorry. I can do this right."

But he can't even summon up the energy to put his feet properly on the ground to carry his weight. Part of him knows this is for the best, that he has to let Sam safe word them both out of this. Another part of him wants those last ten stripes, to not fail at his own punishment, to not get off so easily, like the other times.