Chapter Text
Hell cannot be described. There are no words that could capture the extreme amounts of pain, horror, and fear. Being torn in such fundamental way, without hope or light, breaks the human soul way beyond repair. Torture like that takes time, but, they are here forever, aren't they? Left with nothing but misery and agony. Still, Dean was fighting despite his weaknesses, despite his desire for everything to just be over already. He was growing weaker, steadily losing himself and his humanity in depths of Alastair's methods. Years have passed and he can barely remember his name. It's too much for him. He keeps saying no, but he knows that one day he'll say yes and that day is coming closer and closer rapidly. In a moment of weakness, he gives in. He is alone and miserable, tired of pain and his own stubbornness. Thinking it's finally over, he takes the knife in his hand.
*
Castiel is an angel. He is made to be a fearless warrior of God, honorable and true to his Father, his brothers and sisters. He served his Father's will for thousands of years, following orders and going on endless missions. When the Righteous Man descended to Hell, a new mission was formed. Castiel's garrison was entrusted with the saving of Dean Winchester. They were sent to the heart of Hell to fight for Dean’s soul and make him an earth-walking servant of Heaven once again. Their path was flooded with demons, stronger ones slowing them down and lowering their numbers. Demons in their natural surroundings were proven a challenge, even for angels. Castiel fought ruthlessly despite losses of Heaven, despite his wounds and pain.
When they broke into Alastair's realm, he was the first one to see Dean, fixed on the rack; others too busy fighting off hordes of demons. Castiel saw an utterly broken soul, filled with long suffering, fear, rage, and sadness. Dean couldn't recognize the shape of the creature that has broken into Alastair’s realm; he couldn't comprehend what was happening. He was petrified of the new torture that was hiding in the bright light surrounding him, shattering the unruffled darkness of Hell. But the cold, flesh-ripping touch he was expecting never came. Instead his shackles were gone, and hooks in him eased out. He could suck the hot, dusty, old air in, praising the forgotten feeling of air filling his lungs after years of panting. He could finally breathe. In a flash he realized this must be that sick, quiet second before the agony begun. So he relished it, waiting for new levels of pain to start. They never came and he continued to blissfully breathe.The light around him tightened, centered and he thought he can finally make out a figure in it, but he was too exhausted, with no control over the unconsciousness dawning upon him.
*
When Castiel found Dean, he was astounded by the magnitude of torture he went through. Damaged and broken, he didn't seem to realize that his torment was over. He wasn't saved yet, they were still in danger, but they will get him out. The Righteous Man flinched when Castiel took him off the racks, and unhooked his drained soul from demonic devices. Dean was staring at the light shining from the center of Castiel, from his pure Grace, uncontaminated with corrupted, filled with forces of Heaven. Considering how much time Dean spent in the dark, it was least surprising. Castiel embraced him, offering Dean his support and sheltering him from the rotten environment. Dean wasn't strong enough to hold on to Castiel; he let the angel carry him and he shut down completely. Demons kept coming and angels couldn't hold so many of them back. Castiel pulled a saved soul with him, intent on finding a hiding place for them far away from legions of demons. He cringed when his injured wings spread fully, but took away forcefully, protecting Dean while exposing himself and holding him close, near his soothing Grace.
Castiel was running away from his comrades and fighting- what he once thought a dishonorable act, now was a necessity for completing his mission. He needed a safe place to administer to Dean's wounds. Rummaging through deserted areas of Hell he found a tiny place, polluted with the strong smell of sulphur and lingering demonic presence, but long clear of any demons. The ones he was running from were close behind, Castiel could sense them, but he got just enough time to place hiding sigils on cave walls. This place could serve them as a shelter for a while. Hopefully, long enough for Castiel to recover and help Dean in best of his abilities.Castiel still didn't know how seriously Dean was hurt and he wanted to find out exactly how much of his Grace it would take to bring the Righteous Man back to living.
Dean was lying unaware on the dirty floor and Castiel could properly look into him. What he saw was rage, uncontrollable anger sewed into him, pain of strained conscience and deep sadness. Sadness laced through Dean’s soul so thoroughly that Castiel had a strange urge to share his Grace, to fill Dean with peace and easy content, an act that had absolutely nothing with his mission. The angel decided to reach deeper, to try and find a man who Dean was before Hell. He pulled humans memories, shoving past the ones of torture and finding the vague ones of his brother, Sam and his father, John. He saw his mother through little boy’s eyes and all the people Dean saved through soldier’s ones. He came across a hidden gentleness and forceful love for his brother and broken family, mixed with hidden sorrow. Castiel has seen Dean's whole life in moments, his endless sacrifices, his heroic courage and pure good that was making him feel obligated to dedicate his life to saving strangers, and expecting nothing in return.
Angel was in awe of such rare qualities, in human, hardly ever found together all at one. Although Castiel watched humanity from the time it was born, he didn't understand it completely. What made them do what they done, what they feel and how they feel is way beyond his understanding. He was an angel, a strange being that couldn't comprehend human ways. Dean was a complex example of a human and his life piqued Castiel's curiosity. Wanting to help a human who writhed in pain during his ministrations, Castiel allowed his Grace to expand once more and touch the wounds carved deep into Dean’s soul. He healed the lighter ones he could right now, but he was hurt, too, and recuperating takes time.
As Castiel's Grace worked around and cushioned Dean's soul, small breath of relief escaped Dean’s lips, as he saw himself in a human form. To Castiel only brightness and nature of Dean’s soul were visible. Whatever Dean’s body looked like, it couldn't top the beauty and complexity of his soul. Castiel was content in silence, letting the time pass and concentrating on purifying himself and getting back his strength. He won't use it to heal himself: after seeing how damaged Dean was, he decided that Dean’s soul needed to be rebuilt before returning to his renewed body. Castiel must erase at least some of the pain and wounds from the human’s soul before getting him back to Earth. He'll need even more strength for that and his strained Grace needed to recuperate. For a moment Castiel entertained a thought of trying to contact the angels he left behind after he freed Dean, but dismissed the idea as too risky and dangerous. He was too weak to protect both the human and himself, so he decided to wait, reinforce the sigils on cave walls and watch over Dean.
When Castiel felt the man stir to consciousness, he came closer with interest, towering over him. Never before has he had a chance to interact with a human like this. Dean awoke with a sharp intake of breath, the sound bouncing off of the cave walls, and eyes flaming open, obviously finding strange comfort in perceiving himself still corporal. Dean’s eyes quickly scanned the unknown space, squinting slightly at brightness that surrounded Castiel's compressed form, arms flying on the cave floor in search for weapon and shelter.
From a hoarse throat came a croaked sound- Dean was trying to form the words Castiel already saw in his mind 'What is that? Is it a who? A demon? Can it be a demon? Never saw anything like it, expect maybe sun, but more rainbow-y...'
Castiel wanted to calm the human, seeing he was becoming more agitated and aggressive by the second. He used the human language and an imitation of their voice:"I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord." He waited a moment, watching confusion wash over Dean, amplifying when he realized he was off the racks. Dean eyed Castiel suspiciously, expecting him to start tearing him apart any moment now. He tried to sit up, but was too weak to hold himself; pain was too much and he was again struggling to stay awake.
Castiel continued with explanation:"We were sent to free you from Hell. There are... complications. I succeeded to free you from Alastair, but we are still in Hell. You should rest, we are quite safe here."
Dean grew even more suspicious now, covering into himself and finally found a voice:"There is no such thing as angels."
"Don't you trust your senses? You can't see me with your eyes, this form is not made to be comprehended by the humans. Feel me with your soul. I healed up what I could, but... there is more. It will take much more for you to walk the living again." As he said it, Castiel once again reached to Dean with his Grace, letting it envelop Dean’s battered soul, drowning him in the frankness of his words.
Terror tore through Dean as he realized what Castiel was. One single thought rummaged through his mind as the confusion subsided: 'Why?' He taught himself worthless, undeserving of salvation, of Castiel's sacrifices, his presence and light.
"You are the Righteous Man. Saving you is an order from Heaven. We'll save you." Castiel told him in a firm voice.
A sparkle of hope sprang in Dean’s mind, but he ignored it, refusing to let himself do such stupid thing like to hope. He didn't believe that even an Angel could beat the forces of Hell in Hell. It can't be done. The fact they were obviously hiding somewhere in Hell, a cave of some sorts, just confirmed his theory. Dean wondered if this incident would worsen the torture he was usually subjected to. Surely, the answer is yes. Demons didn't usually need encouragement, so this would probably just make them more inventive.
"I need time for my Grace to heal. Then I'll have to... remake you."
Dean snapped out of his pessimistic melancholy, alerted:"Remake me? What does that supposed to mean?"
"All these years you spent here damaged you and it's questionable how you would cope with them when you're back on Earth. I won't be able to erase all the memories, but I can heal you completely through remaking you. When your soul is repaired, I'll have to rebuild your body, seeing the one you left behind is already rotten."
Dean tensed, thinking of pain that is to come, ignoring Castiel’s remarks and sureness of his return to upper level. Only thing he could think about is pain, and amounts of it. His entire world is made of pain and fear. It became the only thing he knew.
Feeling Dean’s deep distress, Castiel said:"It won't hurt. You will be protected by my Grace and it will be completely painless."
"You can read my thoughts?"
"Yes. Although see them would be a better description."
Dean was uneasy, covered in shame after learning of Castiel’s abilities. "Why are you so... sparkly? And bodiless?"
Human decidedly changed the subject, addressing a thing that irked him from the moment he saw the angel. "I can take a human vessel on Earth and manifest myself in that way, but I prefer my true form, which is quite similar to this one, but much bigger. Hell, as well as Heaven, is a place for souls, not bodies."
"Then how come I am still... me? In my body, I mean?"
"You see your soul as your body. You are used to thinking of it in such way."
Dean stayed silent in next moments, thinking about Castiel’s words, trying to wrap his head around some serious metaphysics that was really beyond him. Angel silently traced Dean’s thoughts back to the ones about angels, himself and his appearance, so it wasn't that much surprised by the Dean’s next question: "Do you have wings? Are they all like in the pictures? Like real fluffy? Or are they just shiny as rest of you?"
Instead of bothering with forming the answer in human language, he ignored the pain searing through him as he spread his burned, once purely light wings, now full of wounds and fractures, darkened in places as result of constant demon attacks he was subjected to. His wings filled tiny space of cave, impressive even in their poor state and compressed form. Castiel enjoyed flying and his wings. If he was vain he would as well enjoy the fascination that overwhelmed Dean when he saw them. Right now, his wings have more important function than simply flying. They are needed to fly them out of Hell. There was no other way for Dean and him to get out of there.
"Rest now." Castiel urged once again. Soon, he hoped, he'll be good enough to start the necessary tasks. "I'll wake you when I'm ready."
Dean gurgled something undefined, even to his mind, not entirely pleased, but somehow accepted. Still, distrust, doubt and fear radiated from him as he let himself fall into unconscious state. He didn't want to think about the turn of events, or to start hoping and believing, but he knew that right now he wasn't in agonizing pain, so that was improvement.
Silently, trying to soothe Dean, Castiel said:"I'll watch over you.”