Title: Your Soul Is A Blinding Light, And It Calls To Me
Pairing: Destiel
Rating: T for violence
Warnings: Not many; torture, minor character death, binding of souls(mating, whatever you want to call it)
AN: This has been in my head so long, it feels so good to finally let it out onto virtual paper. Actually, it seems a little less romantic than I'd planned, but still pretty romantic if you read it right.
I'm actually pretty proud of this, guys. :)
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Supernatural. Let's not be silly here, I'm just not that good.

The garrison's work and casualties finally paid off, and Castiel gasped in the face of their prize. Perhaps prize was not the right word; goal would be more suited to the single soul they had fought through the layers of Hell to reach.

Upon seeing the beacon of that soul, though, Castiel clearly understood why his Father was willing to sacrifice ranks of angels for this one righteous man; Dean Winchester. His soul burnt brighter than even some of the angels Castiel had known, even after his time in Hell. He seemed to glow with the purest grace of God even as he sliced away at another damned soul, and Castiel had difficulty making sense of this - the brightest souls were healers and saviors, not torturers. However, he had not led his garrison here to gawk at the fallen righteous man, and so he quickly pushed all thoughts aside and snapped the chains that kept Dean trapped there.

Dean, predictably, was terrified. He had been doing Alistair's work for some time now, but that did not mean he was any more accustomed to the climate of terror this low in Hell. The chains were there to keep him in place for a reason, after all. As soon as he was freed, he dropped the torturous implement of Hell and turned horrified attention to Castiel.

The angel could only imagine how terrifying he must look to Dean. Being that they were in a different plane of existence, Dean being merely soul and not limited by the constraints of Earth, his metaphorical eyes were open to the true glory of Castiel's celestial form. He shone white, casting light over miles of the low pit of Hell the righteous man had been hidden in. The pureness of his grace burnt away the despair and corruption from Dean's soul, shrivelling the effects of Hell until there was nothing left and the man shone as brightly as Castiel himself.

There was a flurry, a commotion that was not quite voices so much as it was feeling, a part of Castiel; his garrison was fighting back against the amassing forces of Hell. They had come down knowing that they would not all see the glory and the grace of Heaven again, but Castiel knew that if they did not retreat now, none of them would, especially not Dean Winchester.

This was an important mission, one that had to be fulfilled. The Host would keep trying, no matter the loss. Castiel had taken the duty with honor, resolving with himself to not fail in this, his most important mission. He was the captain of the garrison, and he would stay with and deliver the righteous man and his brothers and sisters from the pits of Hell; he would not fail or desert them, unlike Anael before him.

He had not, however, figured Dean Winchester into his plans.

He had assumed that the soul of a righteous man would cower, desperate to escape from the pit he had been locked into; he had not expected Dean to fight back. But fight he did, insomuch as he could. He cowered away from Castiel, dodging around him and keeping his feet firmly planted on the insubstantial ground when Castiel tried to lift him to redemption. The commotion was growing louder, getting nearer and Castiel's grace twinged as they lost another sister, Mariel's grace snuffing out and diffusing over the brutal landscape of Hell. Castiel fought with more vigor to grasp Dean and take him off to Earth, worried that every moment his garrison spent down here unprotected was another chance for the annihilation of the ranks of Heaven. The sheer weight of the unadulterated sin surrounding them lowered protections; they were as easy as any human to kill, here in the home of the demons, the fallen.

Dean Winchester was having none of it though, much to Castiel's angelic consternation. Emotions were not something angels were privvy to, being above that plane of existence. However, as his time chasing Dean lengthened, he felt the stirrings in his soul, felt things beyond his family, felt things of his own. He had no word for most of them, but one stood out from the rest because he knew it already. He knew the love for the Father, and he knew the love for this soul, this righteous man who would do great things for God and his creations. He could not leave this soul here, could not fail in saving him from the grip of perdition because he meant too much; he was too much.

The fight was drawing near though, and he was no closer to coaxing Dean into coming with him to safety. In his frustration, he reached out to Dean once more, losing some control on his grace in the confusion of emotions. His grace wrapped around Dean, burrowed into him without Castiel's consent before he could stop himself. He reeled back, attempting to reign himself in before he became one with the soul; Hell was no place for a bonding, though the damage was already partially done. There was some of his angelic grace in Dean, and likewise some of the righteous man burned within him now.

His Father was without boundaries though, and as he pulled away he found mercy on his rash actions, even in the deepest pits of Hell; instead of running from him, Dean now drew closer, closing the gap between their lights in desperation to be near, to know more than himself - souls in Hell were lonely, far beyond the singularity they knew on Earth. Dean sang with overwhelming fear and sadness, the piece of him that had merged with Castiel carrying his desperate song through the angel's grace; his entire being sung for his brother, for salvation and mercy, and now for Castiel, as though if the angel were to leave, Dean knew he would be lost to the bowels of Hell for eternity, would never know the beauty of Samuel Winchester's soul beside his where it should be.

There was an aching gap in the righteous man, only partially filled by Castiel's grace - he was not long for the tortures of Hell, he needed redemption and Castiel was awed by the reflection of the Father he glimpsed in Dean. He had never seen God, but he knew him to be here, to have touched on Dean Winchester much as Castiel had. It was with reverence for his Father and the righteous man himself, who pressed against Castiel as tightly as possible, that Castiel smote the first demon to find it's way to them. It dissolved away for eternity to parts Castiel neither knew nor cared about.

Dean, revelling in the warmth and comfort of his grace, refused to pull away from him, and though he knew that they would have to part ways soon, Castiel wrapped around the righteous man and lifted him, calling back the garrison as they escaped Hell.

His siblings went back to Heaven to convene and begin memorial for their lost brothers and sisters, while Castiel travelled to the realm of Earth instead. He found the place of Dean's burial easily, a simple command fixing the human vessel of Dean's soul. He offered the body to Dean, consoling him with warmth and love, attempting to show him that everything would be fine. Dean seemed to acknowledge that he was free from Hell, though he did not harbor any much happier feelings for the warmth and light of Earth. He had been touched by the Host of Heaven, he knew more warmth than ever to be found walking the Earth.

Castiel had never hated anything before, had never felt emotions as he did in the righteous man's presence. He did, however, hate forcing Dean back into his body. He hated the cries in the song of his soul as Castiel trapped him in the living flesh, the agony as the soul reintegrated with the human form. He soothed with the heavenly song of Hallelujahs that he had been singing for millenia, sang for Dean until the soul became one once more with the body. He felt a pull towards Dean; he did not wish to leave the man to dig frome his own grave, nor did he wish to live the land his Father had created in such devastation. However, he was falling weak from the battle and the energy he had used raising Dean from perdition, and he needed to return to Heaven.

Reluctantly, he flew home to join in the choirs of Heaven, singing for the loss of their siblings. He announced upon arrival, with energy born of the remaining emotions; Dean Winchester is saved.

He would not mourn the absence of Dean, of the bond they now shared; he had siblings to mourn for now, and he would rejoin Dean once he had regained his energy. There was much to do for the righteous man.

AN: Hope you enjoyed despite the shortness. Be Kind and Review, I always say!