Castiel's blood was warm and sticky on Dean's hands. The metallic taste lingered in his mouth, his lips tasting salty as his tongue ran across the chapped surface. There was blood everywhere, everywhere. It was pooled in dark puddles and splattered against the white contrast of the angel's clothes. The substance was decorating Dean's clothing, blood matted into his hair and smeared onto his skin like paint on a canvas. Then it was all over his hands, covering every inch of skin as if he had washed them in the stuff. It was a classic scene of guilt; kneeling there with red sticky blood lathering one's hands, eliminating any doubt about the events that had taken place. The wounded body, still breathing, still gasping for sweet air, added on to the proof.

Dean was too numb to feel anything remotely like guilt.

He felt empty, like a void inside him had opened up and consumed every molecule and every part of him, leaving him a useless and blank shell. Any sign of thought process or reaction was out of the question. Dean was stunned, incapable of performing anything except kneeling there next to Castiel's gasping body, staring at the sticky mess covering his hands. Red consumed his vision. The color tinted the air, causing Dean to blink, stirring slightly from the comatose state that had overtaken him. His green eyes fluttered, the scene in front of him finally impacting him like a shockwave. Oh god... Dean thought, his eyes widening at the sight of his hands. A sound resembling a cry escaped from his throat as he tried in a desperate attempt to wide the blood off his hands by wiping it on his jeans. The gesture did no more but smear it, causing more of a mess.

The guilt came next as his eyes lifted to rest on Cas's nearly lifeless body. More blood covered Castiel than it had Dean, painted over him like a sheet. The angel emitted a cough, the red substance dripping down from his lips. In an attempt to cry out his name, it came out more like a choking sound a gutted animal would make rather than the fallen angel's name. Dean would have lunged forward to cradle him in his arms, but it was as if an invisible barrier was holding him back. He struggled against the nonexistent restraints, pushing his body against it, wanting, needing, to get closer to Castiel. Slamming his body against the invisible wall repeatedly, he continued the motion until there was a sudden release, as if whatever had been holding him back had shattered into a million pieces. He unceremoniously fell onto the broken body lying in front of him. Sobs racked his body, though the man had been trying to hold them back.

Suddenly it was impossible for him to breath. It was as if his breath had caught, the air scratching and fighting against his throat in an unsuccessful attempt to get out. That mixed with the sobs, Dean was thrown into a coughing fit, having to clutch his stomach. The angel finally stirred, reaching a feeble hand out. A mumble escaped his lips, as if he had been trying to form words though he was physically incapable. But Dean was able to make them out. Dean was able to make them out perfectly. "Dean…"

Then Castiel died cradled in his arms.

After kneeling there for a moment that felt like forever, hot tears streaming down Dean's face and inaudible choked sobs, a low chuckle filled the air. The sound was familiar, but in a way that Dean only knew that he had heard it before, though he couldn't place whose it was. The low gravelly voice spoke, the sly chuckle tugging at his words. "Well done, Dean, well done..."

It hurt too much to speak. Even if Dean had wanted to, he doubted that he would even be capable of words. It wasn't like he had never killed before, he had, probably more than the normal person. Death was the norm, and greeted Dean like a long lost friend with any chance it got. This was different, though. There was no way in all of creation and all that was good that Cas was actually lying there dead right in front of Dean. There was no way his hands were soaked in his blood and yet another death was the doing of Dean. None of this exists, the hunter finally decided. This was all a dream because oh godhe did not kill Cas there was no way in hell, no possible freaking way. His friend's lifeless body strown out under him proved otherwise. At that point, a frustrated cry escaped the Winchester's throat, his hands coming up to his face to cover his eyes yet also dirting his face with the sticky wet blood.

"Oh, Dean, what a mess you've made." The sly voice that had tugged at his mind spoke again, though this time it appeared to be closer by, as if the speaker was physically in front of Dean. The words were spoken with a strong accent, mock disappointment and pity obviously displayed. "Dean, uncover your eyes."

It took him a moment to register the request, and even then he was hesitant. Slowly sliding his slick hands off his face he uncovered them to see a familiar man in a pristine black overcoat standing a few feet away from him, his hands folded together behind his back. It felt as if Dean should've remembered him, at least his name, but nothing came to him. The man felt so...familiar. Dean would have cursed at himself for not remembering, but he had ran out of insults to throw at himself since Cas… The sleek accented voice broke Dean out of his thoughts once more. "I believe I owe you a favor, Winchester."

"Who are you?" The low rough voice that came from Dean's throat surprised him, partially because it didn't sound like his and also because he still was positive he wasn't capable of words. Or really doing anything, for that matter.

A look a fake disapproval was the next expression to play out on the man's features. Everything about him seemed to be fake and untrustworthy, and Dean still couldn't shake off the feeling that he knew him. "You don't remember me? I'm hurt Winchester." The man scorned, his mock expression fading back to his usual smug smile and glinting brown eyes. "I'm Crowley, and that's all you need to know for now."
A weak cough emitted from Dean before he spoke once again in a shaky voice. "I…I know you." It sounded like a statement, though the hunter had been trying to phrase it like a question.

The man scoffed before he answered. "Of course you know me, what did they do to you- Oh." A look of realization struck Crowley's face, his features growing grim for a moment before his ever famous sly charming aura returned. "Oh yes, this is good. Silly me for not remembering." A mocking smile, the man seeming completely indifferent to the dead angel at his feet. "You did well, Dean."

"I- What did I do?" The words scratched at his throat, bringing him pain just to speak.

Crowley's eyes dropped to Castiel"s bloodied body for a moment before he returning his piercing stare back to Dean. "I think you can answer that yourself."

The statement caused a whirlwind of memories and emotions to crash onto Dean, the weight of it all causing the quietest cry to claw at his throat. Crowley cleared his throat, beginning to pace side to side. "So back to why I came here." His eyes were malicious, piercing. "As you can see, the effects of Hell are already rubbing off on you. You probably don't even remember where you are or why you're here."

No, Dean didn't remember that. Suddenly his mind was racing, yearning to remember where he was and why he was there. Those thoughts brought yet another question to his mind, why did he kill Cas? What the hell had happened? He loved Castiel. Castiel had pulled him back together, quite literally. Dean's soul had been completely and totally obliterated when… damn it Dean couldn't remember that either. In that moment, the only memories that resided were those of Castiel slowly but surely piecing Dean's soul together. In this time, the Winchester had fallen for him, absolutely and totally in love with the man. So why the hell was he know laying there dead with his blood painted all over Dean's hands?

"Don't try to remember, Dean. Those memories are now since long gone." Crowley said as if he had read Dean's mind.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean then asked, his eyes tearing away from Castiel to look at the other man.

This caused an eye roll from Crowley. "Don't you get it, boy? None of that matters. Not any more. Now will you let me finish what I want to tell you? I believe you would want to hear this life saving advice."

Dean hesitated before he silently nodded, waiting for the other to continue. Crowley scoffed in that arrogant manner of his before speaking. "So your beloved here, -you two are quite sweet, actually,- is quite obviously dead. Quite tragic. I figured you want your kitten here to come back to life so you can live happily ever after and such."

"This is a trick." Dean immediately assumed.

Crowley shrugged. "Maybe it is, but does that matter any more? Now shush." He took a breath before he continued. "I can save him. I will save him and your favor will be repaid so we won't have to worry about it anymore. No more debts and we can just go back to hating each other."

"What's the catch? There's always a catch." Dean had now regained his voice, though the words still clawed at his throat, leaving a slight sting.

"Ah yes, my favourite part." Yet another smug smile. " You see, I'm not actually in control of this, but you ought to know. You won't remember any of this. As you've witnessed, your memory has already been fading. You won't remember your precise Castiel and how in love with him you were. You won't remember that you were the cause of his death." There was a pause, with Dean could only figure was for emphasis. "Cas, here, will though. He'll remember it all. Perhaps you'll meet again once you're out of...here, but there's no way that those memories can return to you. So what do you say, Deano?"

"I want to know where I am." Dean growled, causing yet another exasperated sigh from Crowley.

"Listen here, Winchester, I can't tell you that. Even I, too, have orders. My orders were simple; Come here, save your angel, then collect you. I was told that you'd be easily persuaded and I wouldn't have to do much convincing, so let me ask again, is this a deal?"

"Whose orders are you following?" Dean's voice was demanding, his gaze turning cold.

"Dear-" His own words were cut off as if an invisible gag was put around his mouth. Crowley rolled his eyes then started again in a simplistic and mocking voice. "What don't you understand about I can't tell you? You aren't special boy. Now do we have a deal or not?"

The hunter was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes flickered between Castiel and Crowley, undeciding. In a sudden movement, Dean leaned down and gently placed his lips against Castiel's cold lifeless ones. It was a short kiss, one that meant goodbye. One that Dean would regret forgetting. "Fine, it's a deal." His voice caught on the last word, causing his words to hitch up to an embarrassingly high pitch.

"Great, about time." A sly cat like grin settled on his lips. "Normally my deals are sealed with a kiss, but this one is different. This one needs something else."
"What do you need me to do?" Dean himself couldn't tell if his voice was in a low growl or a high plea.

"Just your words. And, this-" His hand was placed on Dean's shoulder, causing him to flinch. "Great doing business with you, Winchester."

Then just like that, both Crowley, Dean, and Castiel's beaten body had vanished from the scene.

Author's Note; I won't be updating this story very often, but I'll try to have a new chapter up every one or two weeks. Thanks for reading so far and I hope you enjoyed this first part and will also enjoy the future chapters :) Feel free to leave any comments and/or suggestions for my writing or the story