Contrapasso Part 9
Title: Contrapasso
Full warnings, summary and notes at Part 0.
0. | 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9.
.Contrapasso.
9.
Dean was sure he'd hit every single rock and stone as he tumbled down the slope. It fucking hurt.
The ground levelled out, the rock and stone turning to a smooth, cold surface, and Dean finally, finally came to a stop. Every part of him ached and stung, and Dean lay on the ground for a long minute just breathing and trying to get his head together. Remembering where he was, Dean forced his eyes open, checking there was no immediate threat, making sure his knife was still there. He needed to find Sam and Cas.
It was dark, which wasn't entirely surprising considering how far he'd fallen, and that it had already been getting towards night back in the town. If you could call it a town. If there even was anything like night-time in Hell.
He was aware of gravel and stones still sliding down the slope somewhere behind him. Dean hoped that had been Sam and Cas and not any of the demons following them down.
Cas. The fucker.
It was difficult to see much of anything in the gloom, and Dean slipped on the smooth surface beneath him as he tried to push himself upright; ice, he realised. The cold bite of it crept through his jeans and his hands where he kneeled.
Getting his feet under him, Dean made his way carefully along the base of the slope, where stone met ice. He didn't have to go far until he could make out his brother's huge body, all sprawled limbs and hair, not too far away. Sam was moving carefully, groaning softly as he sat up, rubbing dust out of his eyes. Dean almost called out Sam's name in relief.
Close to Sam lay a shape wearing Sam's jacket and jeans that were too big for him that could only be Cas. Dean could just about make out his slow movements.
The bastard had thrown him over a fucking cliff and Dean could feel every damn bruise and cut he'd suffered on his way down. Cas had better have a damn good reason.
Crouching down beside Sam, Dean asked, "You okay? Did Cas push you over too?" Because if he had, Dean was not going to be pleased.
"Yeah," Sam told him, then at seeing Dean's furious expression added quickly, "One of the demons took a swipe at me. He kinda saved me from getting gutted." Sam shrugged and waved Dean away towards Cas. "Check on him."
Dean had to half-slide the short distance between them.
"The fuck was that?" he demanded. His voice echoed, loud and threatening in the dark and the cold. Dean lowered his voice. "You could have fucking killed us!"
Cas sat up straight, a hand to his head. It wasn't so dark that Dean couldn't see the way Cas's eyes didn't quite focus when he tried to do his staring thing. Asshole. How was Dean supposed to shout at him when he'd gone and gotten his head split open. There was blood on Cas's fingers where he was pressing against his temple. "There was no time," Cas said. He didn't sound out of it or confused or anything so Dean was hopeful it was nothing serious. Not like there was much they could do if it was. "We were being... herded."
"And you didn't think to warn me?" Dean knelt down next to Cas, annoyed, and knocked the idiot angel's hands out of the way. The cut on his head looked deep. Dean pressed the sleeve of his shirt hard against it and Cas hissed and tried to squirm away. "Stop complaining. This'll stop the bleeding. It's your own damn fault for throwing yourself down here anyway."
From somewhere nearby, Sam snorted, "Say it how it is, Dean."
"I told you, there was no time. And I have told you, there is no death here."
"Yeah," Dean sneered. "No death. Just eternal pain and suffering and... fuck."
It wasn't good to think about it too much. It wasn't good to remember, but it was damn hard not to when they were still so close to that room. To where Dean had spent forty years doing nothing but dying over and over, and then when he couldn't take it any more, killing others with a slow, torturous ruthlessness. But brooding about it didn't help them, and it made no difference how sick and angry it made Dean; he couldn't change what he'd done and what he'd turned those people into.
Dean felt Cas's fingers squeezing tightly around his wrist. "Whatever you did to them was done to you first."
"That doesn't make it okay," Dean argued.
"No," Cas agreed. "It doesn't."
Dean was glad Cas hadn't tried to excuse it, or deny it. That would have been so, so much worse. Dean just nodded, not really sure what for, but it seemed the thing to do.
Sam had pushed himself over to sit beside them, his long legs crossed awkwardly.
"I'm glad I don't remember when I was here," he offered, quiet but clear. Sam didn't try to hug Dean or anything, but he was close and he was alive and mostly undamaged and that was enough for Dean.
"I'm glad you don't, too," Dean agreed, and Cas nodded, and Dean realised, yeah, he had two people to take care of and crying like a bitch because he was back in Hell was not going to get them out of this. Focusing on their immediate problems, Dean shook his head and looked at the wound on Cas's forehead under his sleeve. It was still bleeding, but Cas's eyes were sharper and more focused.
"So," Dean sat up straight, trying to shake off the conversation, shifting to try and get some feeling back into his legs. Fucking ice. "You got us down here to stop us being herded somewhere. Who's doing the herding?"
Cas grimaced, and Dean didn't know if it was from his injured head or because of the question. "I can't be sure, and I don't know what purpose it serves to bring us here, but the angels-"
Dean interrupted, "The ones who tried to kill you?"
Cas nodded, "They follow Michael. I can only imagine he seeks to escape."
"Michael," Dean spat. He looked over at Sam, who was looking right back, his face both angry and worried.
"This isn't good," Sam said.
"No," Cas agreed.
When he didn't elaborate, Dean suggested, "So we keep away from Michael. Go around him."
"That would be preferable," Cas said, but he looked away, his eyes watching something in the gloom beyond what Dean could make out. The movement dislodged Dean's hand where it was pressing down against Cas's temple.
There was no fire here, and very little light, and all Dean could see was the slope behind them inclining upwards, gradually at first and then more sharply, its stone grey and washed-out red in the dimness. It seemed to fade away maybe fifteen or twenty feet up, the air above them a thick, unnatural blackness, swallowing light and stone and air, confining. There was no wind, and very little sound except where they breathed and spoke and Sam's feet scraped stones against the ground. The smooth ice beneath them extended out into the darkness ahead of them. Dean could see his breath misting from his nose and his mouth, his lungs feeling the cold so bad it almost hurt, and getting worse with every minute they sat still. He and Sam wouldn't survive long like this, and Dean could even feel Cas shivering beside him. He was frowning, not liking what he was seeing.
"What is it?" Dean prompted, reaching up and getting a hold of Cas's chin, turning Cas's head back towards him.
Cas stared thoughtfully at Dean for a long minute, coming to some decision, before he admitted, "I'm not sure it's possible to pass through this place without meeting him." Cas glanced at Sam. "And Lucifer."
"Shit." Dean should've known it could only get worse. They had to be in the deepest part of Hell. Where else would Lucifer and Michael be?
"So pushing me down here helped not at all," Dean sniped. He was weirdly pleased when Cas threw him a pissy look.
"I don't know yet, if doing that made a difference."
"It made a difference to my neck."
Sam smacked Dean on the shoulder. "Leave him alone. It wasn't like there was time for a debate."
"Yeah, fine." Dean found himself smiling, because it was kind of cool that even in the depths of Hell Sam was still a fussy little girl.
His legs were cramping, and Cas was beginning to get restless. Time to move on.
"I guess there won't just be an exit sign to follow," Dean said. "You know the way through here?"
Cas shook his head, and Dean wasn't surprised. "No. I have never been to these depths."
"Then what?"
Cas let out a long breath like he was irritated, and put his hands on Dean's shoulders, using Dean to steady himself as he stood up.
"Hell is an idea," he explained. "We have to go through to get out. This is its logic."
"So we cut straight across," Sam suggested, standing up and rubbing at his legs.
Dean looked at the darkness in front of them and really didn't like that idea at all. Neither did Cas, apparently, because he shook his head, wincing. At least the cut on his head wasn't bleeding anymore. "It is unwise," Cas said. "That way leads to Michael and Lucifer, who will be at the very centre."
"Then we try and find a way around." Standing beside Cas, Dean watched as Sam's eyes scanned the landscape around them. There wasn't much to see, but it wasn't like before, when they'd been in that whole lot of nothing. This was the type of darkness you got late at night, with no moonlight and no streetlamps. It tinged Cas and Sam in weird blues and greys, and made the icy ground look like polished black stone. It was creepy, and almost silent, every move they made loud and echoing back at them.
"It might be impossible." Cas didn't look happy about it, or at all confident. "But I can try to force a way."
Sam's head turned to Cas sharply. "Force?"
"If there is no other option, I might be able to influence the path." Cas hunched his shoulders, his chin disappearing into Sam's jacket, and wrapped his arms around his chest.
"None of us are gonna last long in this temperature anyway," Dean pointed out. "And don't tell me there's no death here again, Cas," he added quickly. "I got it. I still don't want to freeze. We need to get moving."
"Then we go this way." Cas pointed away from them, not quite toward the centre and Dean wondered if Cas could see a path, or a way through. It seemed weird how they only kept going deeper and deeper when they wanted out, but Dean trusted that Cas knew what he was doing. Or at least could see more than either he or Sam could. As if Cas understood Dean's apprehension, he said, "The point at which we can find a path out of this place is close by now."
It made no sense, but then Hell didn't rely on things like logic or science or reason. It was all chaos and insanity and hatred, and with a vaguely ill feeling because there was no way this could ever go right for them- Dean started walking.
***
At first, Dean thought they were alone. He'd thought this deepest pit of Hell was devoid of anything except Michael and Lucifer, trapped at the very centre of an en empty, endless sheet of ice.
It took a long while for Dean to notice there were human souls here too. An embarrassing amount of time that Dean was putting down to exhaustion and the cold and the lack of light. And to the fact that his whole body pulled and ached with every step he took. He didn't know how long the three of them had been walking, and Dean wondered what Cas's definition of "close" was.
They walked mostly in silence, unwilling to hear their voices echoed back at them, but in the grave quiet Dean could hear Sam's teeth chattering. It worried him, and not just because they were literally freezing to death, but also because there was no way he or Sam had the coordination necessary to get their weapons out and ready in time if anything came for them. Dean doubted he could even get his fingers to bend enough to grip his knife anymore. It had gotten so cold Dean could feel ice heavy on his eyelashes, biting at his lips and the tips of his fingers and his toes.
The three of them kept close together, watching the shadows and letting Cas lead them across the smooth ice, trying desperately not to slip. It was only when Dean tripped over something underfoot that he looked down and saw exactly what he'd been walking over.
Human eyes stared up at him, conscious and watching, some hateful and some resigned and some blank. Bodies, packed together and frozen- but not frozen solid- in the ice.
Dean had stumbled over a shoulder, a patch of bare skin protruding out of the ice.
"The traitorous," Castiel said, voice low, disdainful. For a long moment, Cas looked down at the masses of Damned souls with something like regret, before taking hold of Dean's arm and pulling him along at a quicker pace. Beside them, Sam struggled to stay upright.
"Cas," Dean frowned.
If anything, Cas sped up. "We can't stay here much longer. We're too close to the centre."
"Where Michael and Lucifer are locked up," Sam said.
"Yes." Cas looked at Sam, his eyes narrowing. "It would not be wise to get close to them. They still have power here."
Sam's eyes widened. "I wasn't-"
"Yes, you were. You want to know how you escaped. Talking to them is not the way."
Dean stared at his brother, stunned. "Really Sam?"
"It crossed my mind."
"We will find another way," Castiel said, and it sounded like a promise.
Beneath their feet, more and more body parts stuck out of the ice the further they went; hands, heads, feet. It was gross and it was cruel and Dean was just glad he couldn't hear them. Cas didn't let go of Dean's arm.
The flat ice turned to jagged edges, sharp as knives and cutting the Damned beneath the surface in half, in thirds, in a hundred different places. There was blood, under the ice, and in the dull light it looked like black oil spread across glass. Hands grasped at them, the mouths of the imprisoned souls opening and closing like they were screaming but there was no sound. Their eyes, hundreds and hundreds of eyes, followed them. It was seriously the creepiest thing Dean had ever seen. He tried to step around them, avoiding touching them. Sam was doing the same, moving cautiously, trying not fall on the uneven surface. Dean didn't want to find out if those trapped souls could drag them down too.
None of the hands reached for Cas.
Obstacles became treacherous pits and Dean was starting to think he couldn't take much more, climbing now over steep inclines and sliding crazily down rough, icy slopes dotted with rocks that looked like they'd once been humans, and everywhere the grasping hands and biting mouths.
Cas leaned towards Dean's ear then and whispered, as though just saying it aloud would jinx it, "We shouldn't be far."
Shouldn't be.
There were just so many things in Dean's life that shouldn't be.
Cas being this close to him wasn't one of them.
A little way ahead, Sam was peering into the distance, like he was trying to see something. He looked confused.
"What is it?" Cas asked.
Sam didn't look at them, instead turning his head further away. "Don't you hear that?"
Dean stopped and listened, but all he could hear was his own heavy breath, his pounding heart, and the soft rustle of Cas beside him. "I don't hear anything."
"I know that voice," Sam said, and without warning struck out in a different direction, moving quickly.
"Sam!" Cas called, "You mustn't stray from the path!"
Not that Dean had seen any kind of path, but he was willing to go with Cas on this one; there was something definitely not right with how Sam had taken off on his own. He didn't even pause when Cas called his name again.
"Something's wrong," Cas said. His lips were drawn into a thin line, looking towards the way they'd been headed, and then turning to where Sam was rushing away. He was far enough already that he was almost completely swallowed by the darkness.
"We have to follow him." Not for anything was Dean going to lose sight of Sam in freaking Hell.
"Yes," Cas agreed, and they turned off whatever path Cas had been following and hurried to catch up to Sam. It was a whole lot more treacherous away from Cas's route, half-buried bodies packed more closely together, the ice forming sharp-edged outcroppings and stalagmites reaching upwards, reflecting everything around them like cut-glass, jagged and split. Letting Cas help him over wide fissures and around narrow recesses, Dean could see close up how pinched and disquieted Cas looked.
A little way off, Sam had come to a stop, looking down at something.
Urgently, Cas called again, "Sam," and the sound reverberated loudly off of nothing. Cas strode recklessly the rest of the way to Sam's side, dragging Dean along behind him. "Don't speak to anything here," he ordered.
Sam was staring down at a face, trapped in the ice up to its chin. Dean recognised that it was a woman, with black hair splayed out behind her, frozen and unmoving. Her eyes were a bright grey, looking pleadingly up at Sam. And Sam was looking right back, his face set in shocked horror.
"It's Ruby," he said, his voice hoarse. "She's Ruby."
It didn't look like either of the Rubys Dean'd seen, but maybe this was the original, what Ruby had looked like when she was alive and human. She looked so damn young.
Dean didn't know what to feel about this. The anger and hate he held for the demon bitch was still raw, and Dean wasn't sure there could ever be anything else after what she'd done. It was kind of sickening how glad Dean was to see her punished like this.
Her mouth was moving, saying something that Dean couldn't hear, but he could see her lips forming Sam's name.
Dean grabbed at Sam's arm, yanking him away. "We're going, Sam." He wasn't about to let his brother listen to her crap again, especially not here. Not ever.
If Sam was annoyed at being manhandled he didn't say anything, just looked back at what he thought was Ruby with an unreadable expression.
"She's saying it wasn't-"
Dean didn't want to hear it. "She's lying." He shot Cas a look, and Cas took Sam's other arm, began leading him back the way they'd come.
"Don't listen, Sam," Cas told him. "Hell is full of lies."
"She said she didn't betray me," Sam said, but he was frowning, unsure.
Cas replied, "You know she did."
Sam nodded, but his expression was confused, maybe dazed. "How could I ever think she hadn't? I never thought that."
"It's this place," Cas explained, and whether it was true or not Dean was going to believe it, because Dean could not even begin to think about Sam trusting Ruby again after everything. The anger of it burned his stomach and he gripped Sam's arm more tightly.
Sam didn't say anything else and he didn't try to pull away or free himself. He kept his eyes turned down, watching his feet as they stepped over the bodies of other souls. Dean wondered what they'd done to get here; who they'd fucked over. More than ever, more than anything, Dean wanted to be out of here, away from the cold and the way Cas stumbled clumsily, grimacing, and the memories and the endless, hopeless dark.
Suddenly, Cas came to a stop, turning his head like he was listening, and Dean thought they were going to have to stage an intervention for him too, except then he said, "I can hear the ice cracking."
For a moment Dean couldn't hear anything different, and thought that maybe Hell was making Cas paranoid. Not that he could blame him. Then he heard it; at first a quiet ripping sound, getting louder and louder until it sounded like gun shots, right next to his ears, over and over and all around them.
Dean looked down at his feet, saw hairline fractures spreading out across the ground. "The ice," he realised.
"This way," Cas ordered, already breaking into a run, headed in some direction Dean was fairly sure they hadn't been before, but seriously, everything looked the same and it was impossible to know for sure.
Sam took off after him and Dean followed behind, trying not to think about what he was running over when his feet landed on something soft. It was fucking hard to stay upright, and Sam slipped and skidded sideways down a sharp incline, letting out an alarmed cry. Cas was at his side in an instant, steadying him. It was kind of strange to look at, with Cas being so much shorter than Sam, looking like a hobo in his borrowed jacket and jeans.
They ran, following Cas as he weaved around the bodies and over the growing cracks and fissures splitting open all around them, the sound of it turning deafening. Weirdly, the ground underneath them was becoming increasingly flat, making it a lot easier to keep up with Cas. Dean didn't have a clue how someone with such short legs, who'd been drowned, beaten and stabbed managed to move so fast.
Dean's heart was beating like crazy from fear and from the sprint, and it was hard to get enough air into his lungs when it was so damn cold. At least he could feel his feet again, hitting the hard ice, weighed down by his heavy boots. His fingers stung, and his muscles burned with the exertion and then, suddenly, the sound just stopped.
Cas ground to a halt, looking around anxiously, into the distant darkness. Coming to a stop beside him, nearly slipping over, Dean tried to follow his gaze, tried to make out whatever Cas was looking for. But there was only the same rising and falling expanse of ice stretching out around them.
Cas took a step back, and it looked involuntary, like he was recoiling from something. Something that could not be good.
"This is wrong." Castiel's voice was barely loud enough to hear, and not quite as calm as usual, but determined and maybe a little angry. "We have been led."
Dean had a pretty good idea where to.
"Can we go back?" Dean suggested. "Go around?"
"Be quiet," Cas hissed, frustrated. "No. No."
Cas's eyes fell to the ground a few feet from where he stood, following some line there that Dean couldn't. When Sam tried to step forward, Cas shot out an arm across his chest to hold him back.
Sam looked to Cas, shifting anxiously, keeping his voice low. "What is it?"
Instead of replying, Cas pushed them back a little before motioning for them to follow, eyes not looking away from the ground. Dean didn't think it was the twisted, wasted souls under the ice here Cas was watching with such careful focus. Somehow, Dean knew these buried creatures has been there a long, long time, their eyes sharp and full of malice, their faces grey as stone.
Dean had to look away.
"Cas," Dean prompted, pissed that he couldn't see what Cas was seeing, and feeling useless for it. He felt the wrongness in the air, and the sour taste of sulphur on his tongue, and knew instinctively this was not a good place to be. It was Hell, yes, so nowhere was, but this was more than that.
Sam had taken out the Colt and was holding the grip tightly, pointed down but ready. It would do very little if death really did mean nothing down here, but Dean couldn't begrudge him keeping a weapon close.
"This is the cage, as you call it," Cas said eventually, pointing to his right, to where his gaze had been focused.
The Colt would be even more useless if they came across Lucifer or Michael.
Dean noticed Sam's eyes searching the area Cas had pointed to. He wanted to ask questions, Dean could tell. And hell, Dean wanted to know too; if Sam had been in there. How he'd gotten out.
Instead, Dean said, "Doesn't look much like a cage."
"Do you imagine that bars could keep Michael and Lucifer imprisoned?"
Dean would swear he could hear how unimpressed Castiel was, like Dean should know better.
"The ice is embedded with sigils which keep them contained."
"We're going around?" Sam asked, looking back at the route they'd taken. "It's a big area."
"Of course. The combined glory of the two most powerful archangels of all couldn't be contained in anything less."
Which brought up something that made Dean uneasy as crap. "Where are they?"
"Near," Cas replied. "Which is why we must stop talking and hurry."
Dean would've asked if Cas could be more damn specific, but Cas was already nervous enough, pulling and pushing Dean and Sam whenever they slowed, or deviated even slightly from whatever route Cas was following. He let it go, feeling the sense of urgency, his skin prickling in a way that wasn't from the cold, but more like from electricity in the air, all threatening potential. The icy cold was settling back into his bones after so much running, deeper than before. Around them, light was spilling out across the ice, turning the world a really weird purple, like dawn but all wrong. Above them the sky was still a wall of black.
It was Sam who stopped first, and couldn't be moved even when Cas pulled at his arm.
There was panic on Sam's face when he told them, "I can't lift my feet."
Cas crouched down, put his hands to the ice, then to Sam's feet, pulling back as soon as his fingers touched Sam's shoes like he'd been burned. He tried getting a hold of Sam's ankles, gritting his teeth and tugging upwards.
"What is it?" Sam demanded.
"The hell is going on?" Dean ground out, yanking on Sam's legs until his brother cried out in pain. Yeah, they were stuck solid.
Cas's head shot up, and all he managed to say was, "Lucifer," before he was thrown back by some invisible power, tossed like he weighed nothing. He hit the ground so hard Dean could hear the crack of ice underneath him and the snapping of bone. If they weren't in Hell, and Cas weren't already weakened, Dean would've been sure Cas could heal himself. But here, Cas let out a pained gasp and didn't get up.
Before Dean could even ask if Cas was okay, or go to him, Lucifer was there.
He stood a few feet away, his long arms crossed over his chest, watching them with an amused look. He wore the familiar shape of the guy he'd possessed on Earth, when he'd been trying to get all up inside of Sam.
"Having some problems?" he asked airily.
Dean stood upright, facing him. "Are you doing this?"
Lucifer grinned, and it didn't look human. "I don't want Sam to leave again," Lucifer said. "You should come over here and stop me."
"Don't," Cas called out.
When Dean looked over, he could see that Cas's right arm was bent at an awkward angle. Definitely broken. Cas was using his other arm to lever himself to standing. "You must not break the boundary."
"You really are annoying, Castiel," Lucifer sighed, extending his hand towards Cas. There was another sickening snap and Cas cried out, doubling over and clutching his chest.
Behind Dean, Sam shouted, "Cas!" at the same time Dean started moving towards him.
"Ah, ah," Lucifer warned. "You move any further, Dean, and I'll break some more of his very fragile human bones." Dean stopped in his tracks, wanting to go over and snap some of Lucifer's own fucking bones, but Castiel met Dean's eyes- in pain, yes, but still focused- and shook his head.
"What did you do, you son of a bitch?" Sam demanded. From the way Sam struggled and twisted around, he was still trying to escape whatever was holding him down. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" Lucifer repeated, then laughed. "Oh, Sam. You know exactly what I want. It's why you're back here."
"Why I'm-"
"Now, now, Sam." Lucifer stalked closer, stopping and leaning back from what Dean guessed was the barrier of his prison. "No need to keep pretending. You've done your job perfectly. You should be proud."
"I haven't-" Sam denied. Lucifer looked very sure and very satisfied in a way that made Dean sick. There was always one more trick with him. One more way to fuck over Dean Winchester and the world.
"You have," another voice cut in. A voice that Dean recognised. Sometimes, he really fucking hated being right. When he'd thought shit couldn't get much worse, it had.
From the shadows, another figure emerged.
Adam.
He stood with his arms held loosely at his side, eyes flicking between Dean and Sam with a look of pure venom.
As if he'd read his mind, Cas told them, "He's not your brother. Adam's soul is not in this place."
Small comfort.
"How else do you think you got out of here, Sam?" Lucifer asked, ignoring Cas. "You didn't wonder how you knew your way around? How you knew where you were going? You led Dean right here. You've been leading him here since you crossed into Hell."
"Cas brought us here," Dean pointed out, not believing it, but at the same time finding it hard to forget how Sam had always been in front, as they'd wandered the streets of what they'd thought was Spring Green, Wisconsin, showing them the way.
"We had to get you to the gates, and so Castiel brought you, following my angels," Michael dismissed.
Lucifer and Michael, Dean noticed, where doing a pretty good job of ignoring each other, like they didn't exist. They stood a long way apart, faces angled away from even having to look directly at each other. They might be working together, but there was pretty obviously no love lost between them. Maybe Dean could find a way to use that animosity. Cas was hurt, Sam was stuck, and Dean didn't know what he could do to get them all away when Lucifer and Michael had so much power, even here, where they were supposed to be imprisoned.
"Don't be too hard on our little brother, Dean," Lucifer was saying, his smile ugly. "Your brother told all those nasty demons where to find him and how to kill him." Lucifer frowned at Castiel. "You weren't supposed to survive that."
Sam's denial was immediate, sounding horrified, insistent. "I didn't-" He looked between them. "Dean, Cas, you have to believe me. I didn't know. I don't remember."
Quietly, Dean heard Cas say, "I believe you."
No way had Sam betrayed them. No way. He wasn't buying it either. The idea of Sam setting those asshole demons on Cas was just not something Dean was even going to think. Sam had known where to find Cas. He'd gotten in a bed half-naked with the dude. Lucifer might have manipulated him, nothing new there. And maybe Sam had led them here, but it also meant- if Cas was right- he'd led them pretty much to the exit too.
Lucifer didn't seem to care what any of them thought, clapping his hands together and announcing, "As much fun as this little revelation has been, it's time for us to come to the point." He looked right at Dean, eyes cold with malice and disgust. It was everything that Cas's stare wasn't. "Let us out, Dean Winchester."
"Err, no." Dean couldn't believe Lucifer would ever believe it was going to be that easy. And then there was Michael. "So, what? You and Michael are all made up now and you're going to go off and be best bros together?"
"No, Dean," Lucifer said condescendingly. "You're going to let us out of here so we can all go back to what we were doing before you two idiots trapped us down here."
"Why the hell would I do that?"
"That's how it's meant to be," Lucifer sneered. And then Dean really wished he hadn't asked, because Lucifer turned to Cas, speaking, slow and steady, in a language that sounded neither human nor angel. The closest Dean could think was of gnashing and spitting, and with every fucking word Cas cried out in what sounded like agony, his whole body shaking. Michael watched with indifference.
Dean could see fire at Cas's back, and he could hear hissing. He could smell burning flesh and something like rubber or hair.
His wings, Dean realised. Holy shit, his wings. "Stop!" Dean shouted, as Cas clawed at his own shoulders, trying to reach his back. "Fucking stop it. He's your brother!"
Sam was shouting too, but Dean couldn't tell what he was saying. He couldn't take his eyes off Cas's face, contorted in misery. After everything, after fucking everything it came down to this choice between the world and those he loved all over again. He'd made it once, and Dean didn't know if he could do it again.
Maybe Lucifer saw something in Dean's expression because he stopped speaking in that fucked-up language. The fire dissipated instantly and Cas fell forward, his knees hitting the ice hard.
"My brother," Lucifer spat. "He loves humans more than his own kind. Traitor. Like your brother."
Dean wasn't going to listen to this shit. They had to get out of here, and they had to do it fast. Cas looked like shit, his breathing fast and uneven, his eyes shut tightly. Dean had to think. He couldn't get backed into making this decision again.
"It's simple," Lucifer went on. "You break this seal, we all leave here alive. We go back to playing at fighting an apocalypse. It's a good deal."
"The seal," Dean repeated.
Lucifer waved a hand in Dean's direction, rolling his eyes upwards like his was looking for something, then back towards Dean. "You're still the righteous man, Dean Winchester." He tapped at his wrist as though he had a watch there. "Hurry up or I'll start on Sammy."
"You won't. You need him," Dean argued.
"Getting out of Hell is my priority."
"No," Dean said. He'd been through these arguments so many times they were getting boring and predictable, Dean reminded himself. He'd learned a hundred times over that giving in just never, never worked.
Lucifer sighed heavily. "Your choice."
And turned to Sam. "First," Lucifer said, "I'm going to burn out his eyes. He doesn't need those so much."
"Dean-" Sam began. He sounded so young. So scared.
Lazily, Lucifer stretched out his fist toward Sam, clenching it tightly closed and whatever Sam was going to say was cut off by a cry of pain. Dean watched as Sam's eyes turned black, began bleeding, and Dean felt sick and he felt like an evil fucking bastard and every instinct in him said to agree, to make the deal. Sam clenched his eyes closed, pressing the palms of his hands against the sockets, panting in breaths. But Dean had already given up Sam to Hell once, and he'd given up himself, and they'd been here before with Zachariah.
It would hurt. It always hurt, but Sam wouldn't want him to give in. Cas wouldn't want him to deal.
"You'll be left alone, Dean," Lucifer said. "I won't kill you. I'll kill them and I'll send you back to Earth and you can live, knowing you let them die."
Dean clenched his fists. "Fuck you."
Sam was making pitiful pained sounds, and Cas was still on his knees, his arms wrapped around his chest, and these were the two people Dean knew he couldn't live without. But he couldn't save them just to go back to the last two years of endless fighting and hopelessness. None of them wanted that.
Michael moved closer, still keeping his distance from Lucifer. "Stop toying with them," he snapped. Then, turning his hateful eyes on Dean he ordered, "Break the line or I will kill your brother. Do it now." He was impatient and pissed as hell, as though needing a human to gain his freedom was below him. No way was Michael going to be put off or stalled.
Desperately, not having a fucking clue what he could do, Dean turned to look at Cas. There was blood on the side of his face, ugly looking bruising across his cheek that Dean hadn't been able to see in the darkness. He was leaning forward, one hand flat against the ice, the other clamped down over his shoulder. Cas looked back at Dean with exhausted, half-unfocused eyes, but he hadn't given up. There was something there, some idea, and Cas actually smiled. It was all the strength Dean needed to tell Michael, "No," all over again.
The snapping sound that followed was startlingly loud, echo almost deafening in the sudden silence. Dean realised, whatever they'd said, Dean hadn't actually believed either Lucifer or Michael would actually, really kill Sam. When it came down to it he'd never believed they'd do it. Sam was too valuable, wasn't he?
There was a dull buzzing in Dean's ears. Shock, maybe, as Dean watched Sam's body fall to the ice.
"Sam-"
Dean's mouth went dry, the name sticking in his throat. He was vaguely aware he was moving towards Sam, taking hold of him and shaking him. Sam's head rolled back at a sickening angle, his eyes grotesque masses of empty burned flesh.
Dean had been here before too, with his brother's body in his arms. God. Fuck. So fucking dead.
All Dean felt was a weird sort of numbness. He tried to blink it away, telling himself, they'll bring him back. Lucifer would bring him back. There was no death here. Something.
Too close, he heard Lucifer laughing, and it made Dean cold and he had to grit his teeth to keep from taking his knife and burying it in the angel bastard's head. No way was he going to lose it. No way was he going to give the asshole what he wanted.
"What do you think you're going to do, Castiel?" Lucifer was saying. "You can't fly. You can't stand. There's nothing left of you."
Cas.
Dean looked up to see him, unbalanced and barely able to stay upright, stumbling over to them. Dean could see a trail of dark blood and black feathers where Cas had walked. There was resolve in the way his shoulders were set and in the focused look on his face. His attention was concentrated on Sam's body, pulled up onto Dean's knees, as though just staring at him long enough would bring him back. Dean knew how that felt. And through it all Lucifer was fucking laughing.
At Dean's side, Castiel collapsed down onto his knees, letting out a long breath. He looked fucking awful, and Dean wondered if he was going to have to watch Cas die again too.
"They always underestimate you," Cas said quietly, voice tight with pain, but hope. He had hope, and Dean knew he'd made the right choice, not dealing with Lucifer. Choosing to trust in Cas and Sam. "Us."
Lucifer sounded smug when he said, "Come on, Dean. You break us out of here, we can fix them both. I don't think little Castiel will be able to help with this one."
Dean watched as Cas drew himself up, straightening his back. He held his broken arm pressed stiffly against his stomach, and there was blood on his lips, but he looked back at his brothers defiantly. "You have no faith. You fight for nothing but yourselves, so you will never win this."
It surprised Dean when Cas actually smiled. There was no humour in it. "You should not have stopped," he told them, "When you burned my wings."
Beside Dean, Cas held himself still, preparing for something, and Dean gripped Sam's body tighter, not quite able to look down. He watched Cas instead, and in that instant the angel lifted his arm, fingers curling around air. The glint of his sword was visible before Dean could even see the thing in reality, and then, with all his strength Cas was driving the blade down into the ice in front of him.
As soon as the point struck the surface there was a deep rumbling like thunder and an ominous creaking, like a table about to break under the strain of too much weight but a thousand times louder. Cas was speaking steadily under his breath, not letting up the pressure. Inside their cage, Lucifer was prowling along what Dean guessed was their limit, back and forth like he was trying to find a way free, shouting at Cas, "What have you done?"
Michael was watching Cas with what looked like horror, but Cas didn't stop.
From where blade met ice, a thin crack appeared, running out towards Lucifer. For a second Dean thought, shit, it's going to break the line, but then it turned abruptly, splitting in two and going around.
Beneath his knees Dean felt movement, like an earthquake, and when he looked down he could see the twisted necks and half-rotted faces of the Damned squirming and grasping, something freeing them. Their eyes were bright and vengeful and full of glee. It made Dean really hope Cas was sure about this. Even Michael and Lucifer looked freaked out, backing away from the fissures forming around their prison. Dean knew though, without any hint of doubt, that Cas wouldn't do anything to hurt him, or Sam.
Sweat was beading on Cas's forehead, his face showing the strain of whatever the hell he was trying to do, not pausing even for breath as he whispered words that Dean felt in his head more than heard with his ears. It was power, spreading out over the surface of the ice. Breaking it open, Dean realised. Releasing these ancient Damned from their frozen prison.
The sound was so loud that even though Dean could see Lucifer yelling something, he couldn't hear what it was. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing the Devil almost panicked like that and Dean thought, if this all went to shit, he could die happy having seen that.
The rolling thunder, the cracking and the creaking morphed into the cries and the shouts and the screams of men and women, and around Lucifer and Michael Dean could see hands reaching up out of the ice, grasping at the archangels' legs.
Revenge. Betrayal, Dean realised, watching in fascination as the bodies beneath him clawed their way towards Lucifer's cage.
Michael and Lucifer kicked and hit out, spitting and hissing what Dean guessed were curses and spells, but they had nowhere to run and there were so many. Hands had turned to mouths biting at their legs, and elbows wrapping around their waists, trying to drag them down. Hundreds of broken, remorseless souls seeking to rip and tear. There didn't seem to be anything the archangels could do, no influence, no angel mojo they could use to escape. No matter how fucking sick, Dean couldn't take his eyes off the sight of the two most powerful angels of all being reduced to cries of pain and pleas to their Father as more and more souls pushed themselves up out of the ice, reaching and surging towards them, eyes filled with hunger.
Soon, Dean couldn't see Michael or Lucifer at all, hidden somewhere in the masses of the Damned, and not long after Dean couldn't hear them anymore either. There was nothing like relief, or the feeling of victory, or even vindictive pleasure that the fuckers had finally gotten what they deserved. There was just nothing, because it was all so freaking pointless.
When one of the souls turned eyes on Dean, staring right at him with that same look of need, Dean felt himself jerking back, thinking, fuck. Now they were going to get eaten.
He glanced at Castiel, who was leaning forward dangerously far, hand still wrapped around his sword but panting now, his eyes closed.
Dean reached over, putting one hand on Cas's shoulder, not liking at all the way Cas flinched at the touch. "We gotta go." Dean urged. He had to speak more loudly than he'd have liked to be heard over the cries and the gnashing and the clamour of the Damned. Like a zombie hoard, Dean found himself thinking. They reminded him of a crazy zombie hoard from some shitty B-movie. It was easier than thinking that Sam's body against Dean's knees wasn't breathing.
Cas shook his head slowly. "They can't escape Lucifer's cage any more than Lucifer could."
Dean looked back, and could see where the souls were trying to push against some invisible wall, scratching at something that wasn't there to try and get to them. So many eyes looking at them, wanting them.
"They seek out the living," Cas said. His eyes were half-open, tired, watching them right back. "But you're right. We should go. This is not a good place."
The cold was starting to seep back into Dean's legs, cramped and aching as the adrenaline wore off. He should help Cas, he knew. The poor bastard looked half dead. But Dean just couldn't bring himself to let go of Sam. There was just no way he could leave his brother here, even dead. He just couldn't. Dean couldn't even look down at Sam, had no clue what to do but sit there numbly and watch as Cas pulled at his sword a couple times. It didn't budge, and Cas sat back, staring at the blade sadly for a long minute before turning to meet Dean's eyes.
"You're crying," he could just about hear Cas say. Which he wasn't. He wasn't.
Cas slid himself forward, grimacing at the movement, his right arm still tight against his chest. He reached out his good hand to touch at Sam's forehead. It was like coming awake. Suddenly all Dean could think was how and why and what the fuck. "Why couldn't you have done that before Sam was... before?"
Anger was always easiest.
Dean knew, he really did, that this wasn't Cas's fault. That Cas had done everything he could. But there was no one else except a horde of fucking hell zombies and Dean just didn't know how to make this right.
"Lucifer was right," Cas said. It grated, how calm he was. Dean tried to remember that he trusted him with everything. "I have almost nothing left. No strength and no wings and hardly any grace. This will be the last of it." His gaze never left Dean's when he said, "There is no death here."
Where Cas's fingers pressed against Sam's skin, there was a familiar flash of white light, and Dean looked down in time to see Sam's eyes flying open, drawing in a sudden breath. Surprised and alive and eyes back in their sockets and open.
Sam coughed, took another deep breath and looked right back up at Dean. "What-"
It was too good to be true, Dean thought. It couldn't be real. Not again. He had to know for sure, so he pulled Sam up and wrapped his arms around his brother and just held on and revelled in the feel of his heart beating and his breathing and Sam squirming against him, looking around. "Dean, what the-" It might've been unconscious, but Sam put his arms around Dean too, hanging on to Dean like he was actually scared.
"Jesus Christ, Sam," Dean said into his brother's stupid hair. "You die on me one more freaking time and I'm gonna have a heart attack."
"I'll do my best," Sam promised, and he sounded serious about it. "But what the hell happened?"
Dean could tell he was staring at the cage; at the hungry souls.
"I released them." Cas's voice. "Let's leave."
Never in Dean's entire life had he agreed more, and he made himself let go of Sam, sure now he was alive and okay, and even if they weren't out of this yet, maybe they were close. Maybe they could do this.
Dean's knees cracked as he unbent, standing, and Sam stood up beside him, healed and whole and keeping an eye on the Damned as he made his way towards Cas to help him up.
It took them both, careful of his arm and his back, to pull Cas to his feet.
"You'll be okay, right?" Sam asked. He sounded weirdly young, maybe even scared, and definitely guilty. "You'll heal? Once we're out of here?"
"I won't die," Cas assured him, which didn't really answer Sam's question but was enough for now.
Balanced between them, Cas led them away from the cage, away from the crazed, mindless dead, too long down here to be humans anymore, and too long in the ice to be demons. It was slow going, Cas finding it difficult to keep his feet under him as the ice became uneven again, the souls of the dead becoming still under their feet. Dean almost welcomed the quiet and the return of the darkness.
They walked for a long time and Dean tried not to think too much, except that Cas was growing weaker, his steps more clumsy and his breathing increasingly laboured. He refused to let either of them look at his back or his arm.
They were all so cold and so worn and maybe Cas just couldn't bear to spend another second in this place.
"You said that was the last of your grace." Dean had to know.
"Yes."
"You're human." Dean didn't want that for Cas, not when he'd seen how that could go. It was a price that Cas had already paid once, and it wasn't right when all Cas had done was keep Sam and Dean alive. But he had to know.
"Perhaps." Cas didn't sound sad, or angry, or even resigned. "If you and Sam are alive, then it will be worth it."
Dean wanted to ask why Cas would do that. Why he'd give up everything for them. Again. But maybe Dean was more afraid that he already knew what the answer would be. Cas was so close, and fuck it but right then Dean wanted to kiss him. Not just because he'd saved his brother and he'd saved him, but because he wanted Cas to know that being human wasn't all crap. That Dean meant it, that he'd stick with Cas, that no damn demons were making him. Because he wanted to. When they got out of here, Dean resolved, he was going to, blood and mess and brother be damned. From the way Cas was staring at him, Dean knew that Cas would kiss him right back too.
"There is a path," Cas told him. "We aren't far. It is a path, enclosed on both sides by high walls, which follows a slope upwards. We will come to a river. Across the river we will come to the gates. If we cross the boundary we'll be safe."
There was light, coming from somewhere ahead, and it wasn't fire or hazy purple, but real and warm like sunlight. There was a breeze too that smelled of something other than brimstone and decay.
Sam said, "Is that what we can feel? It's weird that down here, after all that way, there's just an exit waiting for us."
Cas nodded. "No one can get past Lucifer unless he wishes them to."
"Except you," Dean pointed out.
"Except us."
Dean'd always known Cas was a scary bastard, but it had only just dawned on him exactly how much Cas could take. It sounded like they still had a ways to go though, and Dean needed to know if he was going to have to wrestle Cas into letting them take a look at his wounds.
"You can make it?" he asked.
Cas actually glared at Dean, like he'd offended him or something. "I can make it, yes."
With every step closer to that light and that warmth Dean could believe it. That they were going to get out of here alive and together. Anything else- all the anger and the guilt and the fucked up things that had happened- they didn't matter. He'd take this; friendship and family and whatever it was he had going on with Cas too and he'd believe none of it was fake.
And he wouldn't look back.
.END.
Thank you to all those of you who somehow managed to read this far!
This story, which really was supposed to only be about 20K, got very out of control. At times frustrating and too complicated and full of plot holes, I'd like to thank my beta and my alphas all over again, and to everyone who's had to listen to me bitching about this for the past two months.
I should, at this point, and so as not to be accused of some strange kind of plagiarism, did of course take a lot of inspiration from Dante's Divine Comedy. I have loved this book for many years, and have for a long time wanted to write some kind of journey through Hell based on his vision. Writing this allowed me to spend many a happy hour on the train reading Inferno all over again, and texting cienna to tell her what a massive Mary-Sue Dante is. I wasn't strict with his circles, and I interpreted some of them liberally, but there were some things that just fit perfectly.
I do hope you enjoyed it, and I welcome and appreciate comments and concrit very much.
Full warnings, summary and notes at Part 0.
0. | 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9.
.Contrapasso.
9.
Dean was sure he'd hit every single rock and stone as he tumbled down the slope. It fucking hurt.
The ground levelled out, the rock and stone turning to a smooth, cold surface, and Dean finally, finally came to a stop. Every part of him ached and stung, and Dean lay on the ground for a long minute just breathing and trying to get his head together. Remembering where he was, Dean forced his eyes open, checking there was no immediate threat, making sure his knife was still there. He needed to find Sam and Cas.
It was dark, which wasn't entirely surprising considering how far he'd fallen, and that it had already been getting towards night back in the town. If you could call it a town. If there even was anything like night-time in Hell.
He was aware of gravel and stones still sliding down the slope somewhere behind him. Dean hoped that had been Sam and Cas and not any of the demons following them down.
Cas. The fucker.
It was difficult to see much of anything in the gloom, and Dean slipped on the smooth surface beneath him as he tried to push himself upright; ice, he realised. The cold bite of it crept through his jeans and his hands where he kneeled.
Getting his feet under him, Dean made his way carefully along the base of the slope, where stone met ice. He didn't have to go far until he could make out his brother's huge body, all sprawled limbs and hair, not too far away. Sam was moving carefully, groaning softly as he sat up, rubbing dust out of his eyes. Dean almost called out Sam's name in relief.
Close to Sam lay a shape wearing Sam's jacket and jeans that were too big for him that could only be Cas. Dean could just about make out his slow movements.
The bastard had thrown him over a fucking cliff and Dean could feel every damn bruise and cut he'd suffered on his way down. Cas had better have a damn good reason.
Crouching down beside Sam, Dean asked, "You okay? Did Cas push you over too?" Because if he had, Dean was not going to be pleased.
"Yeah," Sam told him, then at seeing Dean's furious expression added quickly, "One of the demons took a swipe at me. He kinda saved me from getting gutted." Sam shrugged and waved Dean away towards Cas. "Check on him."
Dean had to half-slide the short distance between them.
"The fuck was that?" he demanded. His voice echoed, loud and threatening in the dark and the cold. Dean lowered his voice. "You could have fucking killed us!"
Cas sat up straight, a hand to his head. It wasn't so dark that Dean couldn't see the way Cas's eyes didn't quite focus when he tried to do his staring thing. Asshole. How was Dean supposed to shout at him when he'd gone and gotten his head split open. There was blood on Cas's fingers where he was pressing against his temple. "There was no time," Cas said. He didn't sound out of it or confused or anything so Dean was hopeful it was nothing serious. Not like there was much they could do if it was. "We were being... herded."
"And you didn't think to warn me?" Dean knelt down next to Cas, annoyed, and knocked the idiot angel's hands out of the way. The cut on his head looked deep. Dean pressed the sleeve of his shirt hard against it and Cas hissed and tried to squirm away. "Stop complaining. This'll stop the bleeding. It's your own damn fault for throwing yourself down here anyway."
From somewhere nearby, Sam snorted, "Say it how it is, Dean."
"I told you, there was no time. And I have told you, there is no death here."
"Yeah," Dean sneered. "No death. Just eternal pain and suffering and... fuck."
It wasn't good to think about it too much. It wasn't good to remember, but it was damn hard not to when they were still so close to that room. To where Dean had spent forty years doing nothing but dying over and over, and then when he couldn't take it any more, killing others with a slow, torturous ruthlessness. But brooding about it didn't help them, and it made no difference how sick and angry it made Dean; he couldn't change what he'd done and what he'd turned those people into.
Dean felt Cas's fingers squeezing tightly around his wrist. "Whatever you did to them was done to you first."
"That doesn't make it okay," Dean argued.
"No," Cas agreed. "It doesn't."
Dean was glad Cas hadn't tried to excuse it, or deny it. That would have been so, so much worse. Dean just nodded, not really sure what for, but it seemed the thing to do.
Sam had pushed himself over to sit beside them, his long legs crossed awkwardly.
"I'm glad I don't remember when I was here," he offered, quiet but clear. Sam didn't try to hug Dean or anything, but he was close and he was alive and mostly undamaged and that was enough for Dean.
"I'm glad you don't, too," Dean agreed, and Cas nodded, and Dean realised, yeah, he had two people to take care of and crying like a bitch because he was back in Hell was not going to get them out of this. Focusing on their immediate problems, Dean shook his head and looked at the wound on Cas's forehead under his sleeve. It was still bleeding, but Cas's eyes were sharper and more focused.
"So," Dean sat up straight, trying to shake off the conversation, shifting to try and get some feeling back into his legs. Fucking ice. "You got us down here to stop us being herded somewhere. Who's doing the herding?"
Cas grimaced, and Dean didn't know if it was from his injured head or because of the question. "I can't be sure, and I don't know what purpose it serves to bring us here, but the angels-"
Dean interrupted, "The ones who tried to kill you?"
Cas nodded, "They follow Michael. I can only imagine he seeks to escape."
"Michael," Dean spat. He looked over at Sam, who was looking right back, his face both angry and worried.
"This isn't good," Sam said.
"No," Cas agreed.
When he didn't elaborate, Dean suggested, "So we keep away from Michael. Go around him."
"That would be preferable," Cas said, but he looked away, his eyes watching something in the gloom beyond what Dean could make out. The movement dislodged Dean's hand where it was pressing down against Cas's temple.
There was no fire here, and very little light, and all Dean could see was the slope behind them inclining upwards, gradually at first and then more sharply, its stone grey and washed-out red in the dimness. It seemed to fade away maybe fifteen or twenty feet up, the air above them a thick, unnatural blackness, swallowing light and stone and air, confining. There was no wind, and very little sound except where they breathed and spoke and Sam's feet scraped stones against the ground. The smooth ice beneath them extended out into the darkness ahead of them. Dean could see his breath misting from his nose and his mouth, his lungs feeling the cold so bad it almost hurt, and getting worse with every minute they sat still. He and Sam wouldn't survive long like this, and Dean could even feel Cas shivering beside him. He was frowning, not liking what he was seeing.
"What is it?" Dean prompted, reaching up and getting a hold of Cas's chin, turning Cas's head back towards him.
Cas stared thoughtfully at Dean for a long minute, coming to some decision, before he admitted, "I'm not sure it's possible to pass through this place without meeting him." Cas glanced at Sam. "And Lucifer."
"Shit." Dean should've known it could only get worse. They had to be in the deepest part of Hell. Where else would Lucifer and Michael be?
"So pushing me down here helped not at all," Dean sniped. He was weirdly pleased when Cas threw him a pissy look.
"I don't know yet, if doing that made a difference."
"It made a difference to my neck."
Sam smacked Dean on the shoulder. "Leave him alone. It wasn't like there was time for a debate."
"Yeah, fine." Dean found himself smiling, because it was kind of cool that even in the depths of Hell Sam was still a fussy little girl.
His legs were cramping, and Cas was beginning to get restless. Time to move on.
"I guess there won't just be an exit sign to follow," Dean said. "You know the way through here?"
Cas shook his head, and Dean wasn't surprised. "No. I have never been to these depths."
"Then what?"
Cas let out a long breath like he was irritated, and put his hands on Dean's shoulders, using Dean to steady himself as he stood up.
"Hell is an idea," he explained. "We have to go through to get out. This is its logic."
"So we cut straight across," Sam suggested, standing up and rubbing at his legs.
Dean looked at the darkness in front of them and really didn't like that idea at all. Neither did Cas, apparently, because he shook his head, wincing. At least the cut on his head wasn't bleeding anymore. "It is unwise," Cas said. "That way leads to Michael and Lucifer, who will be at the very centre."
"Then we try and find a way around." Standing beside Cas, Dean watched as Sam's eyes scanned the landscape around them. There wasn't much to see, but it wasn't like before, when they'd been in that whole lot of nothing. This was the type of darkness you got late at night, with no moonlight and no streetlamps. It tinged Cas and Sam in weird blues and greys, and made the icy ground look like polished black stone. It was creepy, and almost silent, every move they made loud and echoing back at them.
"It might be impossible." Cas didn't look happy about it, or at all confident. "But I can try to force a way."
Sam's head turned to Cas sharply. "Force?"
"If there is no other option, I might be able to influence the path." Cas hunched his shoulders, his chin disappearing into Sam's jacket, and wrapped his arms around his chest.
"None of us are gonna last long in this temperature anyway," Dean pointed out. "And don't tell me there's no death here again, Cas," he added quickly. "I got it. I still don't want to freeze. We need to get moving."
"Then we go this way." Cas pointed away from them, not quite toward the centre and Dean wondered if Cas could see a path, or a way through. It seemed weird how they only kept going deeper and deeper when they wanted out, but Dean trusted that Cas knew what he was doing. Or at least could see more than either he or Sam could. As if Cas understood Dean's apprehension, he said, "The point at which we can find a path out of this place is close by now."
It made no sense, but then Hell didn't rely on things like logic or science or reason. It was all chaos and insanity and hatred, and with a vaguely ill feeling because there was no way this could ever go right for them- Dean started walking.
***
At first, Dean thought they were alone. He'd thought this deepest pit of Hell was devoid of anything except Michael and Lucifer, trapped at the very centre of an en empty, endless sheet of ice.
It took a long while for Dean to notice there were human souls here too. An embarrassing amount of time that Dean was putting down to exhaustion and the cold and the lack of light. And to the fact that his whole body pulled and ached with every step he took. He didn't know how long the three of them had been walking, and Dean wondered what Cas's definition of "close" was.
They walked mostly in silence, unwilling to hear their voices echoed back at them, but in the grave quiet Dean could hear Sam's teeth chattering. It worried him, and not just because they were literally freezing to death, but also because there was no way he or Sam had the coordination necessary to get their weapons out and ready in time if anything came for them. Dean doubted he could even get his fingers to bend enough to grip his knife anymore. It had gotten so cold Dean could feel ice heavy on his eyelashes, biting at his lips and the tips of his fingers and his toes.
The three of them kept close together, watching the shadows and letting Cas lead them across the smooth ice, trying desperately not to slip. It was only when Dean tripped over something underfoot that he looked down and saw exactly what he'd been walking over.
Human eyes stared up at him, conscious and watching, some hateful and some resigned and some blank. Bodies, packed together and frozen- but not frozen solid- in the ice.
Dean had stumbled over a shoulder, a patch of bare skin protruding out of the ice.
"The traitorous," Castiel said, voice low, disdainful. For a long moment, Cas looked down at the masses of Damned souls with something like regret, before taking hold of Dean's arm and pulling him along at a quicker pace. Beside them, Sam struggled to stay upright.
"Cas," Dean frowned.
If anything, Cas sped up. "We can't stay here much longer. We're too close to the centre."
"Where Michael and Lucifer are locked up," Sam said.
"Yes." Cas looked at Sam, his eyes narrowing. "It would not be wise to get close to them. They still have power here."
Sam's eyes widened. "I wasn't-"
"Yes, you were. You want to know how you escaped. Talking to them is not the way."
Dean stared at his brother, stunned. "Really Sam?"
"It crossed my mind."
"We will find another way," Castiel said, and it sounded like a promise.
Beneath their feet, more and more body parts stuck out of the ice the further they went; hands, heads, feet. It was gross and it was cruel and Dean was just glad he couldn't hear them. Cas didn't let go of Dean's arm.
The flat ice turned to jagged edges, sharp as knives and cutting the Damned beneath the surface in half, in thirds, in a hundred different places. There was blood, under the ice, and in the dull light it looked like black oil spread across glass. Hands grasped at them, the mouths of the imprisoned souls opening and closing like they were screaming but there was no sound. Their eyes, hundreds and hundreds of eyes, followed them. It was seriously the creepiest thing Dean had ever seen. He tried to step around them, avoiding touching them. Sam was doing the same, moving cautiously, trying not fall on the uneven surface. Dean didn't want to find out if those trapped souls could drag them down too.
None of the hands reached for Cas.
Obstacles became treacherous pits and Dean was starting to think he couldn't take much more, climbing now over steep inclines and sliding crazily down rough, icy slopes dotted with rocks that looked like they'd once been humans, and everywhere the grasping hands and biting mouths.
Cas leaned towards Dean's ear then and whispered, as though just saying it aloud would jinx it, "We shouldn't be far."
Shouldn't be.
There were just so many things in Dean's life that shouldn't be.
Cas being this close to him wasn't one of them.
A little way ahead, Sam was peering into the distance, like he was trying to see something. He looked confused.
"What is it?" Cas asked.
Sam didn't look at them, instead turning his head further away. "Don't you hear that?"
Dean stopped and listened, but all he could hear was his own heavy breath, his pounding heart, and the soft rustle of Cas beside him. "I don't hear anything."
"I know that voice," Sam said, and without warning struck out in a different direction, moving quickly.
"Sam!" Cas called, "You mustn't stray from the path!"
Not that Dean had seen any kind of path, but he was willing to go with Cas on this one; there was something definitely not right with how Sam had taken off on his own. He didn't even pause when Cas called his name again.
"Something's wrong," Cas said. His lips were drawn into a thin line, looking towards the way they'd been headed, and then turning to where Sam was rushing away. He was far enough already that he was almost completely swallowed by the darkness.
"We have to follow him." Not for anything was Dean going to lose sight of Sam in freaking Hell.
"Yes," Cas agreed, and they turned off whatever path Cas had been following and hurried to catch up to Sam. It was a whole lot more treacherous away from Cas's route, half-buried bodies packed more closely together, the ice forming sharp-edged outcroppings and stalagmites reaching upwards, reflecting everything around them like cut-glass, jagged and split. Letting Cas help him over wide fissures and around narrow recesses, Dean could see close up how pinched and disquieted Cas looked.
A little way off, Sam had come to a stop, looking down at something.
Urgently, Cas called again, "Sam," and the sound reverberated loudly off of nothing. Cas strode recklessly the rest of the way to Sam's side, dragging Dean along behind him. "Don't speak to anything here," he ordered.
Sam was staring down at a face, trapped in the ice up to its chin. Dean recognised that it was a woman, with black hair splayed out behind her, frozen and unmoving. Her eyes were a bright grey, looking pleadingly up at Sam. And Sam was looking right back, his face set in shocked horror.
"It's Ruby," he said, his voice hoarse. "She's Ruby."
It didn't look like either of the Rubys Dean'd seen, but maybe this was the original, what Ruby had looked like when she was alive and human. She looked so damn young.
Dean didn't know what to feel about this. The anger and hate he held for the demon bitch was still raw, and Dean wasn't sure there could ever be anything else after what she'd done. It was kind of sickening how glad Dean was to see her punished like this.
Her mouth was moving, saying something that Dean couldn't hear, but he could see her lips forming Sam's name.
Dean grabbed at Sam's arm, yanking him away. "We're going, Sam." He wasn't about to let his brother listen to her crap again, especially not here. Not ever.
If Sam was annoyed at being manhandled he didn't say anything, just looked back at what he thought was Ruby with an unreadable expression.
"She's saying it wasn't-"
Dean didn't want to hear it. "She's lying." He shot Cas a look, and Cas took Sam's other arm, began leading him back the way they'd come.
"Don't listen, Sam," Cas told him. "Hell is full of lies."
"She said she didn't betray me," Sam said, but he was frowning, unsure.
Cas replied, "You know she did."
Sam nodded, but his expression was confused, maybe dazed. "How could I ever think she hadn't? I never thought that."
"It's this place," Cas explained, and whether it was true or not Dean was going to believe it, because Dean could not even begin to think about Sam trusting Ruby again after everything. The anger of it burned his stomach and he gripped Sam's arm more tightly.
Sam didn't say anything else and he didn't try to pull away or free himself. He kept his eyes turned down, watching his feet as they stepped over the bodies of other souls. Dean wondered what they'd done to get here; who they'd fucked over. More than ever, more than anything, Dean wanted to be out of here, away from the cold and the way Cas stumbled clumsily, grimacing, and the memories and the endless, hopeless dark.
Suddenly, Cas came to a stop, turning his head like he was listening, and Dean thought they were going to have to stage an intervention for him too, except then he said, "I can hear the ice cracking."
For a moment Dean couldn't hear anything different, and thought that maybe Hell was making Cas paranoid. Not that he could blame him. Then he heard it; at first a quiet ripping sound, getting louder and louder until it sounded like gun shots, right next to his ears, over and over and all around them.
Dean looked down at his feet, saw hairline fractures spreading out across the ground. "The ice," he realised.
"This way," Cas ordered, already breaking into a run, headed in some direction Dean was fairly sure they hadn't been before, but seriously, everything looked the same and it was impossible to know for sure.
Sam took off after him and Dean followed behind, trying not to think about what he was running over when his feet landed on something soft. It was fucking hard to stay upright, and Sam slipped and skidded sideways down a sharp incline, letting out an alarmed cry. Cas was at his side in an instant, steadying him. It was kind of strange to look at, with Cas being so much shorter than Sam, looking like a hobo in his borrowed jacket and jeans.
They ran, following Cas as he weaved around the bodies and over the growing cracks and fissures splitting open all around them, the sound of it turning deafening. Weirdly, the ground underneath them was becoming increasingly flat, making it a lot easier to keep up with Cas. Dean didn't have a clue how someone with such short legs, who'd been drowned, beaten and stabbed managed to move so fast.
Dean's heart was beating like crazy from fear and from the sprint, and it was hard to get enough air into his lungs when it was so damn cold. At least he could feel his feet again, hitting the hard ice, weighed down by his heavy boots. His fingers stung, and his muscles burned with the exertion and then, suddenly, the sound just stopped.
Cas ground to a halt, looking around anxiously, into the distant darkness. Coming to a stop beside him, nearly slipping over, Dean tried to follow his gaze, tried to make out whatever Cas was looking for. But there was only the same rising and falling expanse of ice stretching out around them.
Cas took a step back, and it looked involuntary, like he was recoiling from something. Something that could not be good.
"This is wrong." Castiel's voice was barely loud enough to hear, and not quite as calm as usual, but determined and maybe a little angry. "We have been led."
Dean had a pretty good idea where to.
"Can we go back?" Dean suggested. "Go around?"
"Be quiet," Cas hissed, frustrated. "No. No."
Cas's eyes fell to the ground a few feet from where he stood, following some line there that Dean couldn't. When Sam tried to step forward, Cas shot out an arm across his chest to hold him back.
Sam looked to Cas, shifting anxiously, keeping his voice low. "What is it?"
Instead of replying, Cas pushed them back a little before motioning for them to follow, eyes not looking away from the ground. Dean didn't think it was the twisted, wasted souls under the ice here Cas was watching with such careful focus. Somehow, Dean knew these buried creatures has been there a long, long time, their eyes sharp and full of malice, their faces grey as stone.
Dean had to look away.
"Cas," Dean prompted, pissed that he couldn't see what Cas was seeing, and feeling useless for it. He felt the wrongness in the air, and the sour taste of sulphur on his tongue, and knew instinctively this was not a good place to be. It was Hell, yes, so nowhere was, but this was more than that.
Sam had taken out the Colt and was holding the grip tightly, pointed down but ready. It would do very little if death really did mean nothing down here, but Dean couldn't begrudge him keeping a weapon close.
"This is the cage, as you call it," Cas said eventually, pointing to his right, to where his gaze had been focused.
The Colt would be even more useless if they came across Lucifer or Michael.
Dean noticed Sam's eyes searching the area Cas had pointed to. He wanted to ask questions, Dean could tell. And hell, Dean wanted to know too; if Sam had been in there. How he'd gotten out.
Instead, Dean said, "Doesn't look much like a cage."
"Do you imagine that bars could keep Michael and Lucifer imprisoned?"
Dean would swear he could hear how unimpressed Castiel was, like Dean should know better.
"The ice is embedded with sigils which keep them contained."
"We're going around?" Sam asked, looking back at the route they'd taken. "It's a big area."
"Of course. The combined glory of the two most powerful archangels of all couldn't be contained in anything less."
Which brought up something that made Dean uneasy as crap. "Where are they?"
"Near," Cas replied. "Which is why we must stop talking and hurry."
Dean would've asked if Cas could be more damn specific, but Cas was already nervous enough, pulling and pushing Dean and Sam whenever they slowed, or deviated even slightly from whatever route Cas was following. He let it go, feeling the sense of urgency, his skin prickling in a way that wasn't from the cold, but more like from electricity in the air, all threatening potential. The icy cold was settling back into his bones after so much running, deeper than before. Around them, light was spilling out across the ice, turning the world a really weird purple, like dawn but all wrong. Above them the sky was still a wall of black.
It was Sam who stopped first, and couldn't be moved even when Cas pulled at his arm.
There was panic on Sam's face when he told them, "I can't lift my feet."
Cas crouched down, put his hands to the ice, then to Sam's feet, pulling back as soon as his fingers touched Sam's shoes like he'd been burned. He tried getting a hold of Sam's ankles, gritting his teeth and tugging upwards.
"What is it?" Sam demanded.
"The hell is going on?" Dean ground out, yanking on Sam's legs until his brother cried out in pain. Yeah, they were stuck solid.
Cas's head shot up, and all he managed to say was, "Lucifer," before he was thrown back by some invisible power, tossed like he weighed nothing. He hit the ground so hard Dean could hear the crack of ice underneath him and the snapping of bone. If they weren't in Hell, and Cas weren't already weakened, Dean would've been sure Cas could heal himself. But here, Cas let out a pained gasp and didn't get up.
Before Dean could even ask if Cas was okay, or go to him, Lucifer was there.
He stood a few feet away, his long arms crossed over his chest, watching them with an amused look. He wore the familiar shape of the guy he'd possessed on Earth, when he'd been trying to get all up inside of Sam.
"Having some problems?" he asked airily.
Dean stood upright, facing him. "Are you doing this?"
Lucifer grinned, and it didn't look human. "I don't want Sam to leave again," Lucifer said. "You should come over here and stop me."
"Don't," Cas called out.
When Dean looked over, he could see that Cas's right arm was bent at an awkward angle. Definitely broken. Cas was using his other arm to lever himself to standing. "You must not break the boundary."
"You really are annoying, Castiel," Lucifer sighed, extending his hand towards Cas. There was another sickening snap and Cas cried out, doubling over and clutching his chest.
Behind Dean, Sam shouted, "Cas!" at the same time Dean started moving towards him.
"Ah, ah," Lucifer warned. "You move any further, Dean, and I'll break some more of his very fragile human bones." Dean stopped in his tracks, wanting to go over and snap some of Lucifer's own fucking bones, but Castiel met Dean's eyes- in pain, yes, but still focused- and shook his head.
"What did you do, you son of a bitch?" Sam demanded. From the way Sam struggled and twisted around, he was still trying to escape whatever was holding him down. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" Lucifer repeated, then laughed. "Oh, Sam. You know exactly what I want. It's why you're back here."
"Why I'm-"
"Now, now, Sam." Lucifer stalked closer, stopping and leaning back from what Dean guessed was the barrier of his prison. "No need to keep pretending. You've done your job perfectly. You should be proud."
"I haven't-" Sam denied. Lucifer looked very sure and very satisfied in a way that made Dean sick. There was always one more trick with him. One more way to fuck over Dean Winchester and the world.
"You have," another voice cut in. A voice that Dean recognised. Sometimes, he really fucking hated being right. When he'd thought shit couldn't get much worse, it had.
From the shadows, another figure emerged.
Adam.
He stood with his arms held loosely at his side, eyes flicking between Dean and Sam with a look of pure venom.
As if he'd read his mind, Cas told them, "He's not your brother. Adam's soul is not in this place."
Small comfort.
"How else do you think you got out of here, Sam?" Lucifer asked, ignoring Cas. "You didn't wonder how you knew your way around? How you knew where you were going? You led Dean right here. You've been leading him here since you crossed into Hell."
"Cas brought us here," Dean pointed out, not believing it, but at the same time finding it hard to forget how Sam had always been in front, as they'd wandered the streets of what they'd thought was Spring Green, Wisconsin, showing them the way.
"We had to get you to the gates, and so Castiel brought you, following my angels," Michael dismissed.
Lucifer and Michael, Dean noticed, where doing a pretty good job of ignoring each other, like they didn't exist. They stood a long way apart, faces angled away from even having to look directly at each other. They might be working together, but there was pretty obviously no love lost between them. Maybe Dean could find a way to use that animosity. Cas was hurt, Sam was stuck, and Dean didn't know what he could do to get them all away when Lucifer and Michael had so much power, even here, where they were supposed to be imprisoned.
"Don't be too hard on our little brother, Dean," Lucifer was saying, his smile ugly. "Your brother told all those nasty demons where to find him and how to kill him." Lucifer frowned at Castiel. "You weren't supposed to survive that."
Sam's denial was immediate, sounding horrified, insistent. "I didn't-" He looked between them. "Dean, Cas, you have to believe me. I didn't know. I don't remember."
Quietly, Dean heard Cas say, "I believe you."
No way had Sam betrayed them. No way. He wasn't buying it either. The idea of Sam setting those asshole demons on Cas was just not something Dean was even going to think. Sam had known where to find Cas. He'd gotten in a bed half-naked with the dude. Lucifer might have manipulated him, nothing new there. And maybe Sam had led them here, but it also meant- if Cas was right- he'd led them pretty much to the exit too.
Lucifer didn't seem to care what any of them thought, clapping his hands together and announcing, "As much fun as this little revelation has been, it's time for us to come to the point." He looked right at Dean, eyes cold with malice and disgust. It was everything that Cas's stare wasn't. "Let us out, Dean Winchester."
"Err, no." Dean couldn't believe Lucifer would ever believe it was going to be that easy. And then there was Michael. "So, what? You and Michael are all made up now and you're going to go off and be best bros together?"
"No, Dean," Lucifer said condescendingly. "You're going to let us out of here so we can all go back to what we were doing before you two idiots trapped us down here."
"Why the hell would I do that?"
"That's how it's meant to be," Lucifer sneered. And then Dean really wished he hadn't asked, because Lucifer turned to Cas, speaking, slow and steady, in a language that sounded neither human nor angel. The closest Dean could think was of gnashing and spitting, and with every fucking word Cas cried out in what sounded like agony, his whole body shaking. Michael watched with indifference.
Dean could see fire at Cas's back, and he could hear hissing. He could smell burning flesh and something like rubber or hair.
His wings, Dean realised. Holy shit, his wings. "Stop!" Dean shouted, as Cas clawed at his own shoulders, trying to reach his back. "Fucking stop it. He's your brother!"
Sam was shouting too, but Dean couldn't tell what he was saying. He couldn't take his eyes off Cas's face, contorted in misery. After everything, after fucking everything it came down to this choice between the world and those he loved all over again. He'd made it once, and Dean didn't know if he could do it again.
Maybe Lucifer saw something in Dean's expression because he stopped speaking in that fucked-up language. The fire dissipated instantly and Cas fell forward, his knees hitting the ice hard.
"My brother," Lucifer spat. "He loves humans more than his own kind. Traitor. Like your brother."
Dean wasn't going to listen to this shit. They had to get out of here, and they had to do it fast. Cas looked like shit, his breathing fast and uneven, his eyes shut tightly. Dean had to think. He couldn't get backed into making this decision again.
"It's simple," Lucifer went on. "You break this seal, we all leave here alive. We go back to playing at fighting an apocalypse. It's a good deal."
"The seal," Dean repeated.
Lucifer waved a hand in Dean's direction, rolling his eyes upwards like his was looking for something, then back towards Dean. "You're still the righteous man, Dean Winchester." He tapped at his wrist as though he had a watch there. "Hurry up or I'll start on Sammy."
"You won't. You need him," Dean argued.
"Getting out of Hell is my priority."
"No," Dean said. He'd been through these arguments so many times they were getting boring and predictable, Dean reminded himself. He'd learned a hundred times over that giving in just never, never worked.
Lucifer sighed heavily. "Your choice."
And turned to Sam. "First," Lucifer said, "I'm going to burn out his eyes. He doesn't need those so much."
"Dean-" Sam began. He sounded so young. So scared.
Lazily, Lucifer stretched out his fist toward Sam, clenching it tightly closed and whatever Sam was going to say was cut off by a cry of pain. Dean watched as Sam's eyes turned black, began bleeding, and Dean felt sick and he felt like an evil fucking bastard and every instinct in him said to agree, to make the deal. Sam clenched his eyes closed, pressing the palms of his hands against the sockets, panting in breaths. But Dean had already given up Sam to Hell once, and he'd given up himself, and they'd been here before with Zachariah.
It would hurt. It always hurt, but Sam wouldn't want him to give in. Cas wouldn't want him to deal.
"You'll be left alone, Dean," Lucifer said. "I won't kill you. I'll kill them and I'll send you back to Earth and you can live, knowing you let them die."
Dean clenched his fists. "Fuck you."
Sam was making pitiful pained sounds, and Cas was still on his knees, his arms wrapped around his chest, and these were the two people Dean knew he couldn't live without. But he couldn't save them just to go back to the last two years of endless fighting and hopelessness. None of them wanted that.
Michael moved closer, still keeping his distance from Lucifer. "Stop toying with them," he snapped. Then, turning his hateful eyes on Dean he ordered, "Break the line or I will kill your brother. Do it now." He was impatient and pissed as hell, as though needing a human to gain his freedom was below him. No way was Michael going to be put off or stalled.
Desperately, not having a fucking clue what he could do, Dean turned to look at Cas. There was blood on the side of his face, ugly looking bruising across his cheek that Dean hadn't been able to see in the darkness. He was leaning forward, one hand flat against the ice, the other clamped down over his shoulder. Cas looked back at Dean with exhausted, half-unfocused eyes, but he hadn't given up. There was something there, some idea, and Cas actually smiled. It was all the strength Dean needed to tell Michael, "No," all over again.
The snapping sound that followed was startlingly loud, echo almost deafening in the sudden silence. Dean realised, whatever they'd said, Dean hadn't actually believed either Lucifer or Michael would actually, really kill Sam. When it came down to it he'd never believed they'd do it. Sam was too valuable, wasn't he?
There was a dull buzzing in Dean's ears. Shock, maybe, as Dean watched Sam's body fall to the ice.
"Sam-"
Dean's mouth went dry, the name sticking in his throat. He was vaguely aware he was moving towards Sam, taking hold of him and shaking him. Sam's head rolled back at a sickening angle, his eyes grotesque masses of empty burned flesh.
Dean had been here before too, with his brother's body in his arms. God. Fuck. So fucking dead.
All Dean felt was a weird sort of numbness. He tried to blink it away, telling himself, they'll bring him back. Lucifer would bring him back. There was no death here. Something.
Too close, he heard Lucifer laughing, and it made Dean cold and he had to grit his teeth to keep from taking his knife and burying it in the angel bastard's head. No way was he going to lose it. No way was he going to give the asshole what he wanted.
"What do you think you're going to do, Castiel?" Lucifer was saying. "You can't fly. You can't stand. There's nothing left of you."
Cas.
Dean looked up to see him, unbalanced and barely able to stay upright, stumbling over to them. Dean could see a trail of dark blood and black feathers where Cas had walked. There was resolve in the way his shoulders were set and in the focused look on his face. His attention was concentrated on Sam's body, pulled up onto Dean's knees, as though just staring at him long enough would bring him back. Dean knew how that felt. And through it all Lucifer was fucking laughing.
At Dean's side, Castiel collapsed down onto his knees, letting out a long breath. He looked fucking awful, and Dean wondered if he was going to have to watch Cas die again too.
"They always underestimate you," Cas said quietly, voice tight with pain, but hope. He had hope, and Dean knew he'd made the right choice, not dealing with Lucifer. Choosing to trust in Cas and Sam. "Us."
Lucifer sounded smug when he said, "Come on, Dean. You break us out of here, we can fix them both. I don't think little Castiel will be able to help with this one."
Dean watched as Cas drew himself up, straightening his back. He held his broken arm pressed stiffly against his stomach, and there was blood on his lips, but he looked back at his brothers defiantly. "You have no faith. You fight for nothing but yourselves, so you will never win this."
It surprised Dean when Cas actually smiled. There was no humour in it. "You should not have stopped," he told them, "When you burned my wings."
Beside Dean, Cas held himself still, preparing for something, and Dean gripped Sam's body tighter, not quite able to look down. He watched Cas instead, and in that instant the angel lifted his arm, fingers curling around air. The glint of his sword was visible before Dean could even see the thing in reality, and then, with all his strength Cas was driving the blade down into the ice in front of him.
As soon as the point struck the surface there was a deep rumbling like thunder and an ominous creaking, like a table about to break under the strain of too much weight but a thousand times louder. Cas was speaking steadily under his breath, not letting up the pressure. Inside their cage, Lucifer was prowling along what Dean guessed was their limit, back and forth like he was trying to find a way free, shouting at Cas, "What have you done?"
Michael was watching Cas with what looked like horror, but Cas didn't stop.
From where blade met ice, a thin crack appeared, running out towards Lucifer. For a second Dean thought, shit, it's going to break the line, but then it turned abruptly, splitting in two and going around.
Beneath his knees Dean felt movement, like an earthquake, and when he looked down he could see the twisted necks and half-rotted faces of the Damned squirming and grasping, something freeing them. Their eyes were bright and vengeful and full of glee. It made Dean really hope Cas was sure about this. Even Michael and Lucifer looked freaked out, backing away from the fissures forming around their prison. Dean knew though, without any hint of doubt, that Cas wouldn't do anything to hurt him, or Sam.
Sweat was beading on Cas's forehead, his face showing the strain of whatever the hell he was trying to do, not pausing even for breath as he whispered words that Dean felt in his head more than heard with his ears. It was power, spreading out over the surface of the ice. Breaking it open, Dean realised. Releasing these ancient Damned from their frozen prison.
The sound was so loud that even though Dean could see Lucifer yelling something, he couldn't hear what it was. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing the Devil almost panicked like that and Dean thought, if this all went to shit, he could die happy having seen that.
The rolling thunder, the cracking and the creaking morphed into the cries and the shouts and the screams of men and women, and around Lucifer and Michael Dean could see hands reaching up out of the ice, grasping at the archangels' legs.
Revenge. Betrayal, Dean realised, watching in fascination as the bodies beneath him clawed their way towards Lucifer's cage.
Michael and Lucifer kicked and hit out, spitting and hissing what Dean guessed were curses and spells, but they had nowhere to run and there were so many. Hands had turned to mouths biting at their legs, and elbows wrapping around their waists, trying to drag them down. Hundreds of broken, remorseless souls seeking to rip and tear. There didn't seem to be anything the archangels could do, no influence, no angel mojo they could use to escape. No matter how fucking sick, Dean couldn't take his eyes off the sight of the two most powerful angels of all being reduced to cries of pain and pleas to their Father as more and more souls pushed themselves up out of the ice, reaching and surging towards them, eyes filled with hunger.
Soon, Dean couldn't see Michael or Lucifer at all, hidden somewhere in the masses of the Damned, and not long after Dean couldn't hear them anymore either. There was nothing like relief, or the feeling of victory, or even vindictive pleasure that the fuckers had finally gotten what they deserved. There was just nothing, because it was all so freaking pointless.
When one of the souls turned eyes on Dean, staring right at him with that same look of need, Dean felt himself jerking back, thinking, fuck. Now they were going to get eaten.
He glanced at Castiel, who was leaning forward dangerously far, hand still wrapped around his sword but panting now, his eyes closed.
Dean reached over, putting one hand on Cas's shoulder, not liking at all the way Cas flinched at the touch. "We gotta go." Dean urged. He had to speak more loudly than he'd have liked to be heard over the cries and the gnashing and the clamour of the Damned. Like a zombie hoard, Dean found himself thinking. They reminded him of a crazy zombie hoard from some shitty B-movie. It was easier than thinking that Sam's body against Dean's knees wasn't breathing.
Cas shook his head slowly. "They can't escape Lucifer's cage any more than Lucifer could."
Dean looked back, and could see where the souls were trying to push against some invisible wall, scratching at something that wasn't there to try and get to them. So many eyes looking at them, wanting them.
"They seek out the living," Cas said. His eyes were half-open, tired, watching them right back. "But you're right. We should go. This is not a good place."
The cold was starting to seep back into Dean's legs, cramped and aching as the adrenaline wore off. He should help Cas, he knew. The poor bastard looked half dead. But Dean just couldn't bring himself to let go of Sam. There was just no way he could leave his brother here, even dead. He just couldn't. Dean couldn't even look down at Sam, had no clue what to do but sit there numbly and watch as Cas pulled at his sword a couple times. It didn't budge, and Cas sat back, staring at the blade sadly for a long minute before turning to meet Dean's eyes.
"You're crying," he could just about hear Cas say. Which he wasn't. He wasn't.
Cas slid himself forward, grimacing at the movement, his right arm still tight against his chest. He reached out his good hand to touch at Sam's forehead. It was like coming awake. Suddenly all Dean could think was how and why and what the fuck. "Why couldn't you have done that before Sam was... before?"
Anger was always easiest.
Dean knew, he really did, that this wasn't Cas's fault. That Cas had done everything he could. But there was no one else except a horde of fucking hell zombies and Dean just didn't know how to make this right.
"Lucifer was right," Cas said. It grated, how calm he was. Dean tried to remember that he trusted him with everything. "I have almost nothing left. No strength and no wings and hardly any grace. This will be the last of it." His gaze never left Dean's when he said, "There is no death here."
Where Cas's fingers pressed against Sam's skin, there was a familiar flash of white light, and Dean looked down in time to see Sam's eyes flying open, drawing in a sudden breath. Surprised and alive and eyes back in their sockets and open.
Sam coughed, took another deep breath and looked right back up at Dean. "What-"
It was too good to be true, Dean thought. It couldn't be real. Not again. He had to know for sure, so he pulled Sam up and wrapped his arms around his brother and just held on and revelled in the feel of his heart beating and his breathing and Sam squirming against him, looking around. "Dean, what the-" It might've been unconscious, but Sam put his arms around Dean too, hanging on to Dean like he was actually scared.
"Jesus Christ, Sam," Dean said into his brother's stupid hair. "You die on me one more freaking time and I'm gonna have a heart attack."
"I'll do my best," Sam promised, and he sounded serious about it. "But what the hell happened?"
Dean could tell he was staring at the cage; at the hungry souls.
"I released them." Cas's voice. "Let's leave."
Never in Dean's entire life had he agreed more, and he made himself let go of Sam, sure now he was alive and okay, and even if they weren't out of this yet, maybe they were close. Maybe they could do this.
Dean's knees cracked as he unbent, standing, and Sam stood up beside him, healed and whole and keeping an eye on the Damned as he made his way towards Cas to help him up.
It took them both, careful of his arm and his back, to pull Cas to his feet.
"You'll be okay, right?" Sam asked. He sounded weirdly young, maybe even scared, and definitely guilty. "You'll heal? Once we're out of here?"
"I won't die," Cas assured him, which didn't really answer Sam's question but was enough for now.
Balanced between them, Cas led them away from the cage, away from the crazed, mindless dead, too long down here to be humans anymore, and too long in the ice to be demons. It was slow going, Cas finding it difficult to keep his feet under him as the ice became uneven again, the souls of the dead becoming still under their feet. Dean almost welcomed the quiet and the return of the darkness.
They walked for a long time and Dean tried not to think too much, except that Cas was growing weaker, his steps more clumsy and his breathing increasingly laboured. He refused to let either of them look at his back or his arm.
They were all so cold and so worn and maybe Cas just couldn't bear to spend another second in this place.
"You said that was the last of your grace." Dean had to know.
"Yes."
"You're human." Dean didn't want that for Cas, not when he'd seen how that could go. It was a price that Cas had already paid once, and it wasn't right when all Cas had done was keep Sam and Dean alive. But he had to know.
"Perhaps." Cas didn't sound sad, or angry, or even resigned. "If you and Sam are alive, then it will be worth it."
Dean wanted to ask why Cas would do that. Why he'd give up everything for them. Again. But maybe Dean was more afraid that he already knew what the answer would be. Cas was so close, and fuck it but right then Dean wanted to kiss him. Not just because he'd saved his brother and he'd saved him, but because he wanted Cas to know that being human wasn't all crap. That Dean meant it, that he'd stick with Cas, that no damn demons were making him. Because he wanted to. When they got out of here, Dean resolved, he was going to, blood and mess and brother be damned. From the way Cas was staring at him, Dean knew that Cas would kiss him right back too.
"There is a path," Cas told him. "We aren't far. It is a path, enclosed on both sides by high walls, which follows a slope upwards. We will come to a river. Across the river we will come to the gates. If we cross the boundary we'll be safe."
There was light, coming from somewhere ahead, and it wasn't fire or hazy purple, but real and warm like sunlight. There was a breeze too that smelled of something other than brimstone and decay.
Sam said, "Is that what we can feel? It's weird that down here, after all that way, there's just an exit waiting for us."
Cas nodded. "No one can get past Lucifer unless he wishes them to."
"Except you," Dean pointed out.
"Except us."
Dean'd always known Cas was a scary bastard, but it had only just dawned on him exactly how much Cas could take. It sounded like they still had a ways to go though, and Dean needed to know if he was going to have to wrestle Cas into letting them take a look at his wounds.
"You can make it?" he asked.
Cas actually glared at Dean, like he'd offended him or something. "I can make it, yes."
With every step closer to that light and that warmth Dean could believe it. That they were going to get out of here alive and together. Anything else- all the anger and the guilt and the fucked up things that had happened- they didn't matter. He'd take this; friendship and family and whatever it was he had going on with Cas too and he'd believe none of it was fake.
And he wouldn't look back.
.END.
Thank you to all those of you who somehow managed to read this far!
This story, which really was supposed to only be about 20K, got very out of control. At times frustrating and too complicated and full of plot holes, I'd like to thank my beta and my alphas all over again, and to everyone who's had to listen to me bitching about this for the past two months.
I should, at this point, and so as not to be accused of some strange kind of plagiarism, did of course take a lot of inspiration from Dante's Divine Comedy. I have loved this book for many years, and have for a long time wanted to write some kind of journey through Hell based on his vision. Writing this allowed me to spend many a happy hour on the train reading Inferno all over again, and texting cienna to tell her what a massive Mary-Sue Dante is. I wasn't strict with his circles, and I interpreted some of them liberally, but there were some things that just fit perfectly.
I do hope you enjoyed it, and I welcome and appreciate comments and concrit very much.