[DCBB-FIC] Castiel Rising; NC-17; The False Dragon
The False Dragon
There are demons in the deeper caverns.
In all the millennia that Castiel has traveled these caverns, he has never seen so many demons so deep inside Hell’s belly. They usually flock to the weakest parts of Hell, where the veil between the planes of existence are thinnest, and tear one another apart for the right to try to escape. Demons never come so deep, unless they have given up escape and taken to punishing the souls of the wicked.
From the screams and revelry below, Castiel thinks this is something else entirely. He hesitates, looking back down the cavern that will lead him closer to Lucifer, and, for the first time since his never-ending journey began, Castiel turns away, and crawls down the wall of the suspension room.
He shrinks down to wind between the chains attached to the walls, and simply drops down the rest of the way once he can clearly see the ground below him. The demons nearest to him scatter when he lands, and Castiel rises to two feet, shifting his form into something more human-like in shape and size. He narrows his draconic eyes, his Godface safely on the underside of his jaw.
“What is this for?” he growls to a near-by demon. The demon shifts back, like a black sandstorm, and rematerializes a few feet away. Castiel flares his clawed wings. “Speak.”
The demon creeps forward, black eyes wide. “Are you… Castiel?” he asks through rotting black lips. Castiel blinks. Demons have never called him by name before. Never seemed to know what he was, other than a demonic dragon that would forever wander the tunnels. When he nods, the demon gasps and looks around before coming closer. “We’ve seen you crawling through Hell,” he says, a smile spreading across his face. “You know the Father. Lucifer.” The demon spreads his hands. “He’s going to be freed soon.”
Castiel goes still, wings quivering, and then darts forward, digging clawed hands into the shoulders of the demon. It shrieks and Castiel narrows his eyes. “Explain.”
The demon swallows, and Castiel can see some of the exposed muscles in his throat move. “The Righteous Man,” he starts, looking over his shoulder. “He’s here. Lilith said when that happened, when he sunk to our level, our Father would be freed.”
Castiel lifts his head and sees a soul dangling from hooks just above the riot of demons, slowly being lowered toward their reaching hands. Castiel turns back to the demon, releasing his grip. “Who is he?”
The demon’s smile turns wicked. “A hunter,” he says. “Dean Winchester.”
Castiel snorts, turning back to the crowd. No wonder there is such a gathering, he thinks. A hunter and the one who will free Lucifer? He’s amazed more demons aren’t flooding the area.
“Hmm, you must be Clarence, right?”
The demon in front of Castiel goes rigid and then vanishes into dust, speeding through the crowd. Castiel frowns, twisting his head to look over his shoulder, wings drooping. “My name is Castiel,” he says to the female demon. She laughs, tossing back her head and running a skeletal hand through her hair.
“Oh, you’re good,” she says, looking back at him. She slinks forward, smirking. “They said you never left Hell,” she says, stopping just in front of him. “I guess they weren’t wrong.”
“I can’t leave,” Castiel says, narrowing his eyes. The demon nods.
“Loyalty,” she purrs. “To our Father, and your brother?”
Castiel tilts his head to the side, watching her. “You know what I am?”
She shrugs, brushing some of her hair behind her ears. She starts circling him, saying, “Once word got out that Lucifer was real-really real, and down here, suffering with us-some of us could connect the dots.” She pauses, and Castiel watches as she looks up at the dangling figure. “If I had known that bastard was the key, I would have dragged him down here myself.”
Castiel frowns. “You’ve met?”
The demon laughs, cold and bitter. “Met, fought, tried to murder one another several times,” she chirps. She turns her black eyes back to Castiel. “He killed my father. And my brother.”
“Demons have family?” Castiel asks, and the demon stares at him.
“Azazel was my father,” she says, and Castiel snaps his eyes to the figure.
“I see,” he says. The demon huffs.
“Lilith let the family secret slip after they were dead,” she says, sneering. “Nothing like being born without chance of redemption.” Castiel looks back at her, and she smirks. “Do you know how to celebrate human-style, Clarence?”
He frowns. “No. And my name is Castiel.”
The demon grins. “Then I’ll just have to teach you,” she says, wrapping her fingers around his arm.
Castiel stares at her hand. He understands the implications, knows what she wants. Angels aren’t supposed to succumb to such whims, to want to feel and taste. They also aren’t supposed to ignore the Word of God or willingly Fall to Hell. He raises his eyes to her face, nostrils flaring. “Will you explain the ‘Clarence’ reference as well?”
The demon smirks and starts pulling him along. “Oh, I’ll explain,” she says, leading him away from the crowd, and looks back at him. “And then I’ll ring your bell.”
-----
Castiel doesn’t return to Lucifer. A part of him writhes in the guilt of leaving Lucifer in that cage of fire and wind alone. The other part wants to return with good news, with hope, for Lucifer. So he waits.
But, for the first time, he doesn’t wait alone.
“I can’t believe Alistair won’t let me carve Dean’s smug fucking face,” Meg snarls as she solidifies beside him, crossing her arms across her chest.
Castiel glances at her, and then looks down from the ledge he’d carved out in one of the darkest caverns. The area is known by the demons as Alistair’s crypt, for it’s where Alistair does his… work, and trains others to follow in his steps. He can see Alistair’s many torture racks, all of them full, and the predemons working on some of them. He focuses on the one where Alistair was currently working-where the Righteous Man had been moved after the riot had finished with him. The soul had been in terrible shape, bloody, bleeding, screaming, and healing for it all to begin again, when Alistair had claimed him for himself.
Now it was a waiting game for the man to break.
“With your history,” Castiel says, looking over at Meg, “you could push him into holding out for fifty years.”
She glares at him. “Don’t use logic on me, Clarence,” she grumbles, “or I’ll find some other soul to fuck.”
Castiel turns away, nodding his head to the side. “Do as you wish.”
Meg huffs, and takes a seat on the ledge. “Everything else seems boring after fucking an angel,” she admits.
“Thank you,” Castiel says, smirking, and spreads his wings. “I’ll be back shortly.”
He pushes off as Meg shouts after him, “That wasn’t a compliment!” He glides down, landing at the start of Alistair’s crypt. It only takes a moment before the white-eyed demon appears before him, rotting smile in place and a knife in each hand.
“Castiel,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
“Alistair,” Castiel says, narrowing his eyes.
Alistair’s smile quirks to one side of his mouth. “You angels are always so friendly,” he says, dropping one arm and gesturing for him to come inside with the other. “You wanted to meet our very special guest?”
Castiel nods and walks forward, Alistair at his side. He looks over, head tilting. “Is he the one?” he asks. Alistair sighs, looking down at his knives.
“Oh, he’ll do the job very nicely,” he says, sadly. “He’s not the one I wanted, but I make do with the materials I’m given.”
Castiel nods and goes silent as Alistair leads him by several rooms with other screaming souls. He looks as he goes by them, peering into their small sectionals, the walls painted with blood. “May I speak with him?”
Alistair chortles, tilting his head around to look at him. “You think you’re going to talk him down from the rack?” He twirls his blades between his fingers. “Anyone who can be talked down so quickly isn’t the type of person you want to be offering the knife to.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at Castiel. “Hell is torture, not a playground.”
Castiel nods. “I have no intention of trying to get him to take your blade,” he says.
Alistair stares at him, eyes narrowing, and stops outside another torture room. He then shrugs and gestures to the doorway. “You wanna talk with him? Go right ahead.” His eyes suddenly go cold and he lifts his blade. “But don’t touch him, you understand?”
Castiel looks at the blade-small, sharp, and would do no damage against his grace, or his skin. However, he’s heard of Alistair often in these years he’s stayed amongst the demons. He doesn’t doubt the man’s tenacity. He meets Alistair’s white eyes and simply nods.
Alistair grins again, twirling the knife back. “Good!” he says, and steps back. “Have fun.”
Castiel watches him dissipate into black smoke and blow away before he turns back to the entrance of the Righteous Man’s chamber. He hesitates, adjusting his wings, because this is the man who will not only free Lucifer, but himself as well. He’s so important, and doesn’t even know it. Castiel steels himself, straightening his back, and walks inside.
The Righteous Man is not what he was expecting.
“Who the fuck are you?” the nude soul on the rack spits out at him, jerking a bit towards the door, even though his arms are locked down at his sides, and his legs are bound against the rack. His wide green eyes flick across Castiel’s draconic face, and he swallows. “You some demon head-honcho or something? Come to take your turn p-peeling my face off?” he snaps, although Castiel can smell the fear on him. Castiel merely walks closer, and Dean’s body stiffens, reflexively pressing back against the rack, neck straining. “What?!”
Castiel holds up his clawed hands, folding his wings tighter against his back. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he says, keeping Dean’s gaze. When his eyes narrow, Castiel drops his hands and stands at the end of his rack. “I only want to know you.” He smiles when Dean blinks at him. “You’ve caused a greater disturbance here than I have ever seen.”
Dean smirks, but the smug look fails with his panicked eyes. “I’m just that awesome.”
Castiel stares at him. “The demons certainly seem to hate you.”
“Yeah, well,” Dean starts, swallowing, “that happens when you send a fuckton back here, and kill a bunch of ‘em.” His face falls, and Castiel can clearly see the scared young man through the bravado. “Can’t help but wish I’d killed a few more and exorcised a bunch less.”
Castiel watches him for a moment longer. “You sold yourself for your brother,” he says.
Dean watches him, eyes narrowing, and finally he sags against his bindings, losing the tension in his body as he goes limp on the rack. “Yeah,” he says. “In… more ways than one.”
There. Castiel sees it now. Sees how this man, despite the sin he can smell on his soul, could be the Righteous Man Lucifer had whispered about. Castiel smiles. “I came here for my brother as well,” he says.
“Demons have brothers?” Dean asks, frowning.
Castiel stares. “I never said I was a demon.”
“What’s wrong?” Alistair says as he materializes beside Castiel. Dean’s entire body goes stiff, eyes widening. Castiel looks over at him. Alistair just grins. “Did someone want to see a demon?”
“Fuck you,” Dean whispers, and Castiel has to close his eyes at the glow of excitement that flares in Alistair’s eyes.
“I’ve told you, Deano, that your tongue will get you in trouble one of these days.”
“Fuck. You.”
“I think I should remove it.”
Castiel leaves before Alistair starts in on the next round of torture, going back to where Meg sits with her head against the stone wall, eyes closed. She smiles as Dean’s screams erupt from below.
“I could fall asleep to this,” she says as the screams are cut off by a choked gurgling. She looks over at Castiel, eyes half-closed. “You find out what you needed?”
Castiel nods, turning around and peering over the cavern. “Yes.”
Meg reaches up and places a hand over his naked torso. “Are going back to Lucifer then?”
Castiel crouches down and Meg slides her legs open. He wonders how repulsed he should be by this, having a demon’s mostly-rotten body inching closer to his own. Fornicating with one. How repulsed his brothers would be if they knew he wanted to. “Soon,” he says, leaning his draconic head back, exposing his Godface, and looks down at her with his human eyes. Meg smiles through broken lips, and Castiel brings his mouth down to hover over hers.
Meg licks at her exposed teeth, sliding the hand lower, to where, were he human, there would be genitals. “But not yet?” Castiel can feel the tingles of pain and pleasure where she touches him, because he remembers how she made him feel, and shakes his head breathlessly. She leans up, biting at his lips. “Then let’s get you to grow a pair, Clarence,” she whispers, and kisses him.
It burns. It hurts. It’s wrong.
But Castiel’s come to like that.
-----
Dean raises an eyebrow at Castiel from his rack. “You gonna say something this time, or just stare at me again?” He sneers, wiggling his fingers. “Too bad I’m not naked this time; you won’t even get a show.”
Castiel lingers in the doorway of the room for a moment longer, and then walks towards him. “Forgive me,” he says, stopping at the foot of Dean’s rack. When Dean narrows his eyes, Castiel folds his wings back. “I haven’t truly spoken with… anyone. For a very long time.”
Dean blinks. “So you just decided to randomly visit me from time to time?”
“Yes,” Castiel says.
Dean closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Whatever,” he says, looking at him. “What is it you want this time?”
Castiel frowns. “To know you.”
“What does that mean?” Dean snarls, jerking against his wrist binds. “You come here and stop the… stop…” His eyes shutter closed, but he snaps his attention back to Castiel. “Why am I so fucking interesting?”
Castiel leans his head to the side, staring at Dean. The man’s eyes are wide and shiny, threatening to weep. It confuses him. “Why does it bother you?”
“Because this is Hell!” Dean screams, jerking against his bindings. “You coming here and staring at me doesn’t lend itself to the whole ‘eternal torment’ thing.”
Castiel flares his nostrils. “Are you sure?” he asks, smirking. “This seems to be an irritant to you.”
Dean laughs, sounding weak. “Irritating is different from the burning damnation I’ve been having since I got here,” he says.
“If it eases you,” Castiel says, walking to his side, “I’ve never had a taste for torture.”
Dean scoffs, turning away. “Sorry if I don’t trust you,” he grumbles. “Fuck, I don’t even know your name.”
“Names are meaningless,” Castiel says. “Demons and souls forget them and make new ones over and over.” He lays a hand on Dean’s chest, staring at his widening eyes. He pulses his grace inside the soul, and Dean gasps, arching his back. Castiel closes his eyes, allowing the feeling to wash over him, like a living ocean flowing beneath his fingers. Dean whimpers, and he pulls back, gasping. When he opens his eyes again and sees Dean staring at him, Castiel swallows. “Feel,” he murmurs. “Learn to know by feeling each other.”
Dean pants quickly, shaking on the rack, and clenches his fists. “What the fuck are you?” he whispers.
One time, Castiel would have told him that he was an angel of the Lord. One time, it would have been true.
Castiel lifts his head, spreading his wings, and sees Dean’s eyes grow wide. He snorts through his draconic nose. “I am Hell’s false dragon.”
Dean blinks a few times, and then lets out another shrill laugh. He falls limp against the rack, his laughter coming helplessly, tears streaming down the sides of his face. “Oh shit,” he wheezes out.
Castiel watches him, eyes narrowed, and thinks that it’s almost time.
-----
“Do you know how long you’ve been here?” he asks Dean several visits later. Dean stares at him for a long moment, and then looks away.
“No,” he says. “Forever.”
Castiel frowns, brow furrowing. “You’re lying,” he says, and Dean snaps his eyes back to him. “It’s part of the curse,” Castiel continues, stalking to the side of Dean’s rack. “You always know how long you’ve been here.”
Dean closes eyes, gritting his teeth. “It’s been eight years,” he growls.
Castiel nods, looking up. “I see.”
Dean laughs a little, turning his head to the side. “This fucking room is all I’ve known for eight years,” he says, softly. “No ground. No sun. No sky.” Then he pauses, and grins. He looks back at Castiel and shakes his head. “Except your eyes.”
Castiel frowns, tilting his head. “My eyes?”
“They’re blue,” Dean says. “They’re the only blue thing I’ve seen down here. They’re… they’re nice.”
“They remind you of the sky,” Castiel says, and Dean shrugs as best he can. Castiel nods. “I never considered that.”
Dean frowns at him. “That’s all you have?” Castiel nods, and Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “How long have you been here?”
“Millennia,” Castiel says, and Dean stares at him.
“You said,” Dean starts, “the first time we spoke, that you followed your brother here.”
Castiel smiles, nodding. “I did.”
“Where is he?” Dean asks. “Is he dead? Gone? Escaped?”
Castiel looks up at the wall, staring at the ledge where he usually waits, watching. He closes his eyes. “He’s waiting.”
“For what?”
Castiel looks over at him, eyes narrowed. “Me,” he says, and spreads his wings. “Goodbye, Dean.”
“What?” Dean says, tightly, and strains against his bindings. “What does that mean? Are you leaving?!”
Castiel takes off, ignoring Dean’s cries. He sees Meg as he lands on the ledge, and she smiles at him.
“So, is it finally time to go?” she asks, black eyes wide. She grabs Castiel’s hips, her fingers stinging on his flesh. Castiel nods, leaning closer to her.
“It is,” he murmurs.
She digs her fingers more into Castiel’s black-scaled hips, and the burning increases. “I wish I could go with you,” she says, nudging her noses against Castiel’s chin.
“No demon can go near him,” Castiel reminds her, and breathes against her head. “I must go.”
Meg’s eyes nearly glow. “It’s almost time,” she breathes. Then she pushes herself closer, smirking. “No time for a quick roll in the dirt?” She bites at his neck, and Castiel lets her for a second before pushing her away.
“No,” he says, shuffling his wings. “I’ve been away too long.”
Meg sighs, leaning her head to the side. “No fun,” she says and walks by him, morphing into a cloud of black smoke. She crackles as she says, “See you,” and blows through the tunnel above them.
Castiel lingers, listening as Dean’s shouts morph into screams, pain-filled and sporadic. It’s not fair, he thinks as he morphs back into is true draconic form. It’s not right, he thinks as he takes to the air. But Castiel will do what he must for Lucifer.
Including take away a lost soul’s sky.
The journey back to Lucifer takes less time than Castiel’s used to, but, then, Castiel’s never began a journey quite as close to the cage as he had this time. Just twelve years-twelve years, compared to the hundreds Castiel’s used to. It’s like Hell knows that something great is about to happen. It makes Castiel crawl and fight and fly faster.
He whips through the field of fire and wind as fast as he can, staring at the golden bars of Lucifer’s cage, and feels the same relief and joy and love that always comes upon him when he catches sight of Lucifer’s white wings through the cage. As he settles on the golden bars, Lucifer rises to greet him, pressing his hands through the bars. Castiel pushes his white Godface against his hands, and feels the coldness that is so familiar, friendly, and different from Meg’s touch.
“Castiel,” Lucifer says, voice raspy, and the guilt of being away from Lucifer for so long crashes down on him. He curls himself around the bars, pushing tighter, pulling himself closer, even as the wind tries to force him away.
“Lucifer,” Castiel says, and Lucifer stares at him. It makes Castiel feel like the center of the universe. “Lucifer, the Righteous Man is in Hell.”
Lucifer’s eyes widen, and then his wings spread out, feathers pressing through the bars. “At last,” he says, staring. “It’s almost time.” He folds his wings in and moves the center of the cage, beneath Castiel’s breast. Castiel slowly slides around the cage and stares at the design in the gold. A series of circles within circles, and between each layer were figures, golden snakes eating their own tails. Sixty-five small figures, one large at the very center.
Lucifer brushes a hand over the center snake, and frost creeps across its surface. He locks his gaze onto the snakes and murmurs, “The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break.” He looks back at Castiel and smiles. It’s a sad smile, with anger and heartbreak in his eyes. “It’s the last thing Michael told me as he forced me in here. The terms of my release.”
“Seals?” Castiel says, curling closer. “The locks on your cage?”
Lucifer nods. “Yes, and as this Righteous Man breaks, it makes it possible for Lilith to break the rest.” Castiel’s brow furrows, and Lucifer smiles. “I’ve been busy, brother. And soon, it will all be over.”
Castiel feels a harsh tug from the wind and grits his teeth, grunting. Lucifer reaches up and touches his face, and Castiel stares into his eyes.
“Wait for it with me,” Lucifer says, and swallows. “Wait for this.”
Castiel can’t disappoint him, not after leaving him for so long. So he holds tight, fighting the winds, just long enough to see the eyes of the snake flash vivid red, and then the golden light seeping from it dies, leaving only black metal in its place.
Then Castiel is gone, torn away and thrown across Hell once again. But instead of despair, anger, and loss, Castiel can only feel joy. Sheer joy.
-----
Dean has… changed.
Castiel watches him work, standing in the doorway of one of Alistair’s torture rooms. He’s gifted with a knife, slicing the skin off the soul’s abdomen in thin strips, exposing the untouched muscles beneath. The muscles contract as the soul writhes, screams muffled by the ball of her own skin Dean’s stuffed into her mouth. He pokes in the newest strip of skin between her teeth and cheek, then looks over his shoulder.
His green eyes have gone manic, and there’s a moment before recognition sparks in them. “It’s you,” he says and turns around. “The nameless false dragon.” He grins. “I felt you,” he says, and blindly stabs his blade through the hand of the soul, smiling a strangely familiar smile. He walks to Castiel, and Castiel tilts his head, watching. Dean laughs, smiling wider. “It’s been twenty-three years,” he says, and furrows his brow, gaze dropping. A smirk slips across his lips, and he looks coyly back at Castiel. “A decade since I fell off the wagon.”
Castiel looks over Dean, to the squirming, bloody soul behind him. “Do you enjoy it?”
Dean pauses, rubbing his bloody fingers together, and nods. “One way or another, these souls belong down here,” he says, looking back at the woman. “I look at it like hunting. Someone’s gotta do it.” He smirks, eyes wide, as he turns to Castiel again. “Might as well learn to love it.”
“That’s understandable,” Castiel says, walking around him and to the woman. Her brown eyes stare wide at him, mouth wide, blood dribbling down her chin from the pieces of skin. She looks between him and Dean, who has come up beside him. “What’s her sin?”
“Don’t know,” Dean says. “Don’t care. Alistair said we shouldn’t try whips or fire, though.” Castiel looks down at him and Dean shrugs, his eyes glued to the woman. “He knows her soul, and where and how to pick it.” His eyes narrow. “He knows how to break anyone.” He shakes it off and smirks up at Castiel, nodding to the woman. “You wanna give it a shot?”
Castiel huffs out a breath, shuffling his wings, and looks at the soul. “I have no patience for torture,” he says. He strides forward and presses his clawed fingers against her bicep. Dean hums beside him, and leans on Castiel’s arm, sinking the claws into the woman’s flesh. Castiel watches Dean, and Dean watches the woman. As she starts gurgling out more cries of pain, Dean’s smile goes wider.
“Ah, my prize student.”
Dean whirls around, yanking Castiel’s hand with him. A spray of blood streaks across Castiel’s chest and Dean’s face. Castiel sees Alistair standing in the doorway, a wide smile that Castiel now realizes matches the one Dean’s wearing. Alistair’s white eyes flick down to Castiel’s bloodied hand, still tight in Dean’s grasp. He smiles wider.
“Unique tool,” he says and licks his teeth. He raises his rotting eyebrows. “Bonus points to you, Deano.”
Dean’s eyes light up, and he smiles. “Thank you, Sir.”
Alistair looks up at Castiel, eyes brightening. “And our dragon returns!” he drawls, slinking forward and clapping a boney hand onto his shoulder. It burns so suddenly Castiel nearly flinches back. After being near Lucifer for so long, being in his purifying light, the demons are nearly unbearable. He holds himself back, though, and meets Alistair’s gaze. Alistair seems to know, because he smiles all the wider and squeezes his shoulder tighter. “How’s your brother?”
Castiel blinks, tilting his head. He’s never been asked that question. “He’s lonely,” he answers, staring at Alistair. “Desperate.”
Dean looks up at him, but Castiel keeps his gaze locked onto those white eyes. He watches Alistair’s sagging face, sees how his eyes widen and his smile twitches. “He’ll be free soon,” he says, and Castiel lunges forward.
“What do you mean?” he says, wrapping his hands around Alistair’s upper arms, ignoring the pain. “What’s happening?”
“I get why you wouldn’t know,” Alistair says, prying Castiel’s hands off. “You move so quickly through Hell, you don’t listen.”
“Listen to what?” Dean asks, and Alistair glares at him.
“I didn’t speak to you,” Alistair says, and Dean swallows, nodding.
“Yes, Sir,” he says. “I apologize.”
Alistair smiles and strokes a hand through Dean’s hair. “Good boy,” he says, and turns back to Castiel, grinning. “Where was I?”
Castiel narrows his eyes. “Stop playing with me, demon.”
Alistair chuckles. “Touchy,” he drawls, and turns around. “Dean, continue your work. I have to talk with your friend.”
“Yes Sir,” Dean says, nodding, and turns around without a glance. Castiel watches him yank his blade from the soul’s hand before he looks away and back at Alistair. The demon crooks his finger at him, and Castiel follows him away from the room.
“You’re about to have a family reunion,” Alistair says, slipping through the narrow walkway between rooms. Castiel frowns, and Alistair grins at him. “Heaven wants their Righteous Man returned.”
Castiel flinches back, wings flaring, knocking back into nearest wall. “They’re invading?”
Alistair snorts. “They invaded the moment Dean decided to take my blade,” he says. Castiel goes still, and Alistair licks his teeth. “They’ve been battling their way through Hell’s traps, beasts, and the demons they come across.”
“How do you know?” Castiel asks, feeling breathless. “Have any made it this far?”
Alistair breaks out laughing, leaning backwards until he’s nearly parallel to the ground. Then he snaps back up, straight and tall. “It’s only been a decade,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow. “Hell won’t let just anyone through its intestines so easily.” He continues on the pathway. “One of the little black-eyed foot soldiers fled from them and, uh.” Alistair grins wickedly, rubbing his fingers together. “He spilled his guts to me.”
Castiel narrows his eyes. “I don’t care about your pastimes,” he growls. “Should we move Dean?”
Alistair snorts. “Are you crazy? They’ll follow him all through these caverns,” he says, waving a hand and walking away. “I was just going to let them have him.”
“What?” Castiel says, reaching forward and grabbing Alistair’s shoulder. Alistair glares back at him, and Castiel bares his teeth. “Explain.”
Alistair snarls at him. “Having a bunch of you feathered freaks frolicking around down here is bad for the atmosphere,” he snaps, shoving Castiel away. “And no matter how many Hell manages to bury in the spike pit, fry in the hellfire, or just break entirely, Heaven will just keep sending more.” Alistair waves his hands. “If Lilith wants him dead and down here again, then we’ll hunt him down and drag him back here.” He glowers at Castiel, stepping backwards. “Now get lost, and maybe I won’t send them your way when they manage to get here.”
Castiel flares his wings out, and Alistair flinches back. “Don’t push me, demon,” he hisses, and takes off.
-----
“I will fucking stab you in your frog-face you feathered fuck!”
Castiel has been avoiding the pulls of his brothers’ graces for four years, feeling their presences as they crawl closer through the bowels of Hell and getting out of their way. He feels when one of them is killed, weakened by the distance from Heaven. As more and more died, Castiel wondered if there had been an entire garrison at one time. Now, though, he can only feel the tugging of three graces in the deeper caverns. One of them is just around a thin passageway.
“You are a stain in the sight of my Father.”
“Don’t touch me!”
And so is Meg.
Castiel darts out of his hiding place within one of the soul-digesting plants in the consumption room, nearly tearing the large green blossom in half in his effort to escape. He slithers up the slimy cavern wall and through the tunnel linking to the next, where Castiel can see the corpses of two mammoth-sized hellbeasts. Across the room, Meg has been forced into a corner by a blue-winged sister-Sofiel, who’s shrunk to barely larger than a human soul. Meg’s black eyes snap to Castiel and relief floods over her rotting face.
“Clarence!” she shouts, jerking, as if stopping herself from bolting. Her eyes lock onto the angel in front of her and she freezes entirely.
Sofiel’s scarred wings twitch and she turns around, the grey eyes of her Godface narrow, and her green frog-face blinks at him. Castiel is momentarily stunned-she has white hair on her head. As Castiel comes out of his stupor, Sofiel just continues to blink at him. Her four wings arc upward as she partially turns her head away, looking at Castiel with just her Godface.
“Castiel?” she asks, stepping towards him. Her grey eyes widen. “What have you become?” she whispers, and Castiel draws himself taller. Sofiel pauses before she snaps her wrist out, and her sword appears in it. “It doesn’t matter. You’re no better than this demon now.”
Castiel bares his teeth, flaring his first set of wings and pressing his second set against his lower back. Sofiel looks up at the cavern, her Godface’s eyes narrowing at how low the ceiling is. There is barely enough space for Castiel to crawl through and he’s only twice as tall as Sofiel. However, he is nearly ten times as long. It’s hardly fair.
Castiel slinks forward, smelling how weak her grace is. Castiel feeds directly off of Lucifer, whose energy is everywhere in Hell, and feeds his strength. “You’ve been gone from Heaven too long, sister,” Castiel says. Sofiel blinks at him, unmoved. Castiel growls. “You should have never come here.”
Sofiel raises her head, mouth thinning. “I do as my Father asks without question,” she drawls.
Castiel’s nostrils flare. “Then I will be doing you a favor,” he says, and lunges.
Sofiel flies out of the way, and Castiel lands in front of Meg. She stares at him, wide-eyed, before dematerializing and fleeing to the consumption room. Castiel turns back to Sofiel just in time to see her leap at him. With a whip of his tail, Castiel sends her crashing to the ground.
He turns his long body as Sofiel rises to her feet, wheezing, and points her blade at him. “You have perverted your body and your grace for him, Castiel,” she snarls, rushing again.
Castiel lashes out with his claws and slices her across the chest. Sofiel screams in pain, cut all the way to her grace. She crumples, gasping, as light flashes from her wounds. She stares, stunned, at Castiel’s face as she grasps at the torn ribbons of her body, shaking. Castiel steps forward and onto her, pinning her. She gurgles, blinking, and Castiel feels the first touches of loss.
“Find peace in our Father’s arms,” he tells her, and pushes down with his claws. She explodes in a flash of light, leaving only the four charred outlines of her wings.
Castiel stares at them, silent, before turning to the room of consumption. Meg peeks her head around the tunnel, smiling.
“I’d ask you to take me now, Clarence,” she begins, walking towards him, “if I wasn’t sure you’d gut me for it.”
Castiel looks to her. “Stay in the deeper caverns,” he says. “Away from Alistair’s crypt. That’s where they’re trying to get to.”
Meg scowls. “Is this a fucking rescue mission for Dean?” Castiel nods and Meg rolls her eyes. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You know, I was thinking of re-introducing myself, telling him my actual name, taking him under my wing in the torture department.” She scoffs, flicking her hand through the air. “Fuck this.” She then frowns, looking over at Castiel. “What was that bitch doing down here then?”
Castiel looks over at the remnants of Sofiel’s angel wings. “She was looking for me,” he says.
Meg shakes her head. “Angels,” she grumbles. Castiel huffs out a breath through his nose, then turns away. “Where are you going?” Meg calls after him.
“To wait,” Castiel says and crawls towards the next tunnel entrance. Meg laughs.
“Tell your brother I said ‘hi’! And that I’ll see him soon!”
Castiel can hear her giggling for a long while as he moves through the caverns, but eventually it fades away, leaving him with only the feeling of three different graces pulling at him, one that has always been there, and two that are new. It’s another four years before Castiel feels the graces of his two invading brethren leave, and Castiel knows that Dean is gone.
He spends the next fifty years slogging through Hell, creeping from room to room. His thoughts wander and he realizes he knows nothing. He knows that the Righteous Man was to break in Hell, which would trigger the first seal to break, and the rest of the seals would follow. But there’s more. Why would Heaven want Dean back at the cost of so many angels? Was his role more important than Castiel was lead to believe? Did Dean’s brother have a part?
The moment Castiel grasps the cage’s bars, winding himself so tightly around them he might as well be part of the cage, and feels Lucifer’s fingers touch his Godface again, he says, “Tell me everything.”
And Lucifer does. As the rest of the seals die out in front of them, he explains to Castiel how Dean and Sam are vessels-nearly unique and specially bred over generations. Lucifer tells him of Azazel, and Lilith. Tells him everything he can.
“Forgive me,” Lucifer says, voice raspy, as the second-to-last seal breaks. “There was never enough time.”
Castiel swallows, closing both pairs of eyes. “Of course.”
He looks down at Lucifer, stares into his eyes, and Lucifer digs his fingers into his face again. “Promise me, Castiel, when you reach the surface.”
“Anything,” Castiel says.
“Promise me,” Lucifer whispers, “that you’ll protect Dean and Sam Winchester with your life.”
Castiel doesn’t blink. “Of course,” he murmurs. “I swear.”
And the final seal breaks, and Castiel’s world shatters around him.
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