Chapter Text
"Help ! Somebody help me !" The broken soul cried, as he did everyday for a full month now. But everyday his captor ignored the begging as he slashed into him, ripped him apart and carved him into a bloody, twisted, work of art.
The soul was once a man. An asian American, who died of a heart attack a few days ago. A month in hell-time. The demon who tortured him had been a man once too, and his name was Dean Winchester. Every day, he tormented the soul and his screams sounded like music to his ears. He knew what this man did on earth. Why he was in hell.
"Keep screaming," the demon smiled, "that's how your wife screamed when you beat her to death, right ? And your begging...did your daughter beg you like this too ? You know, when you raped her." "Please, please, I'm sorry" the soul cried again. "Yeah, well it's a bit too late for remorse pal" replied Dean as he walked towards his trolley. He carefully chose a scalpel on it, his eyes slowly turning black as he went back to work.
The screams echoed through hell, but no one cared. Demons were used to it, they even liked it, but right now, they had bigger concerns. They were listening to something else. Near one of hell's entrances, a loud thump could be heard. It had been thumping for months now. No one knew what it was, but surely, it couldn't be any good. With Azazel dead and Lilith walking the earth, no one in hell was there to give orders. Since the thumpings started, all the demons around hell's entrance had started to fight each other. What should they do ? Try to go out and check it ? No everyone must stay in hell. Nobody moves. It's not like it can be dangerous anyway, right ? But maybe it's worth checking ?
The fighting was interrupted by a loud crash. A breach had been formed in hell, and they were so busy fighting each other that nobody saw it coming. A bright light filled the breach.
Finally, the demons understood what they were up against, and it filled them with fear.
The battle against the angels was violent and unequal. The celestial creatures were much stronger and fighting them felt hopeless, but they had to. They couldn't let the angels in. Who knew what they planned on doing down here ?
After a few months, despite the demons' efforts, a bright ray finally flashed through the breach and made its way down the infinite obscurity of hell.
This ray of light had a name: Castiel, and a mission: finding Dean Winchester and dragging him out of hell. He didn’t have much time, while he was searching for Dean, the other angels, his brothers and sisters, were fighting to keep the gates of hell open.
Castiel searched for days, almost got lost a few times but finally he found it. Alastair’s torture chamber. The demon he interrogated a little earlier told him that’s where he would find Dean. He entered the room and saw. This soul had been corrupted but wasn’t exactly a demon yet. It was darker than a human soul, it looked twisted, almost evil but not quiet. Most of all it seemed hurt. Wounded. And so, so sad. More than sad, it looked desperate. The angel rarely ever felt anything, but this broken soul ? This broken soul touched him in ways he never imagined. It was not pity, not exactly, but it was something.
There was also something strangely beautiful about that soul. Castiel was confused, this soul was tormented, hurt, hardly human anymore. Demons are repulsive. Yet, the angel had to admit it: Dean Winchester’s soul was magnificent and somewhat bright under the blackness surrounding it.