Disclaimer: If you recognize it then I don't own it.
Dean tore through any demon in his path. Through Hell-fire and pain even as his garrison fought against their own opponents. His blade glinted as it tore through another vicious demon, black eyes flaring bright white as grace seared through it, satisfaction filling him.
The musical sounds of the Host were a distant echo in his mind as he moved away from the others, moving into a darker and more violent part of Hell, closer to the Pit. Closer to his brother long ago cast from Heaven along with his supporters and where he believed the Righteous Man was held.
His grace flared in the darkness, against pain and evil, as his wings arched high in aggression. He could hear his brothers and sisters calling him back, calling for him to stay with the garrison, but Dean ignored it. Another piercing scream ripped through the hot air but Dean didn't stop. Pushed farther and faster, cutting through any in his path and past souls screaming in agony. Past souls steadily being blackened by torturing and others from the suffering they were experiencing.
Dean felt it, a call that sung through his being and pushed him faster. Then the light he was seeing in the distance, the bright flare of it, was there in front of him. He could feel it and no other soul in existence matched it. The Righteous Man.
Castiel Novak.
The demon nearest to Castiel was powerful but it didn't stop him. His sword in hand Dean charged, wings pushing him faster, as he stabbed at him. A clang rung out.
Then the demon fled the area; the others having long since left once the light of an angel in Hell had alerted them to the threat. To certain death.
Dean's expression softened from the absolute fury as he approached the man, the owner of the single most beautiful soul, to remove him from rack he was attached to. He could feel it and knew Castiel had split blood in Hell.
But his soul was untouched, shone bright and pure, as Dean reached out to free him from the hooks. Carefully pulling the soul near, gripping it tightly, as his wings flared out again. He could feel everything that made the soul before him so pure and perfect. Let it wash over him.
Then he held tight and launched upwards soaring past demons and tortured souls. Past the places they'd destroyed in their forty year quest for the Righteous Man, where their true forms glowed in the darkness, moving farther away from the place that had housed Castiel since he'd been dragged down. Dean's call to the Host alerted them to his success.
To his deviation of the plan because Michael was supposed to find Castiel. The archangel was supposed be the one to save the Righteous Man, but Dean would not leave him there another moment. Would not wait and knew that this soul did not deserve to wait another moment in this place. That Castiel never belonged here. And had he not separated from the others they would still be searching in the wrong place.
Grace broke through the barrier and they were free, clean air and beautiful light met them as the sun glinted off his wings. He could feel Castiel gripping back, holding tightly and borrowing close to his grace. His wings effortlessly cut through the air as Dean went to the place where Castiel's body rested. Pulling the soul close and wrapping his grace around it he began the task of rebuilding Castiel's body.
With care and caution he moved about his task with a singular focus only pausing to comfort the soul nestled in his grace. Soothing it and offering unwavering protection. Safety.
There was something more. Something else about the soul that kept his attention and held it like nothing else in existence had before.
He could hear the fury from his actions, the anger at his deviation of the plan, as well as the knowledge that he had found the Righteous Man while so many had failed.
While Michael the archangel had failed.
He winced at the discontent he felt as he continued to work before freezing. Slowly he focused on the feeling sweeping through him, tingling against his grace and flowing freely. Castiel's soul was attempting to comfort him. Warmth and care, concern and assurance were slowly seeping into Dean's very being and he could feel his wings shaking from the power behind the emotions. From being so close to such a pure and selfless soul.
"Well Cas…you continue to surprise me." he murmured before turning back to his task only this time with a small smile. The body before him was exactly as it was prior to being attacked by a Hellhound and for all intents it was finished.
But Dean never did anything halfway and he wasn't going to start now.
He began fixing every little thing about Castiel had wasn't perfect. Every single thing was fixed, any little flaw in an organ or blood cell was repaired. Old injuries and deterioration from a hard life erased. With a smirk he rolled the biological clock back watching as years melted off of Castiel's features, from his body, as he put the hunter back to his prime. It would help with the coming trials and to protect him from the harsh lifestyle he led.
Give him a better chance at survival.
"Alright Cas. Time to wake up." the soul was slowly removed from his grace and placed back into the body. Dean blinked, "Ooops." a mark stood out in sharp relief on Castiel's shoulder in the shape of a handprint. Dean reached out, brushing against it and jerking back in surprise. A piece of his grace clung to the soul where he'd gripped Castiel on their ascent out of Hell. The mark was soul deep and his grace was thoroughly wrapped up in the soul. A tug on his grace revealed a bond. Strong and steady, not a single weak point along the path. A mischievous look glinted in the angel's green eyes. "Not one for following the rules either, are you Cas? Keep that trait…you're going to need it."
But before he could see those bright blue eyes take in the world once more he could hear several angels from his garrison calling for him. He could hear Sam's concern. They had returned to Heaven. With a sigh and a slight roll of his eyes he glanced back at Castiel lying in the field surrounded by fallen trees. "Try not to get killed before I get back. I would hate to see all my hard work undone."
Then he was taking flight and leaving the hunter to gasp in fresh air. Eyes darting around at the damage as he sat up trying to figure out what had happened.
A single white feather with golden accents lay next to him. Soft and strong. Without a thought he carefully held onto it as he got to his feet, looking around at the destroyed grave-site, before he began the long walk to the nearest phone.
He was really thirsty.
I just love angel Dean. Might turn this into a series of one-shots of angel!dean and hunter!cas...we'll see.