"Go Castiel!" Uriel shouted to him over the roar of the battle. "Find the sword of Michael!"

Months of battling the spawn of hell had led Castiel to this moment. He knew not what the soul he was rescuing looked like, not where he would find it. But if his father set this task to him it must have meant that Castiel could complete it. He surged forward into the fire as his brothers tore at the black figures that tried to keep Castiel out. He would have little time for this.

Even through divine eyes hell was chaos. There was fire and darkness simultaneously. The souls seemed to be covered in tar and grime. Some whimpered, some sobbed, some screamed and some had gone numbly insane at the endless sight of the nightmares that plagued them. The rest of hell was for the wicked. For the twisted, the cruel, the evil. For those that took such pleasure in eliciting the pungent scent of fear that hung heavy over hell. Castiel's pure soul; his heavenly grace cringed at the sight. Where would he begin to look for this Dean Winchester? Were Castiel any being but an angel, perhaps this would have been the point at which he would panic. But he did not, for he was an angel of The Lord and he was a soldier. He would carry out this task and raise the soul from hell. He spoke the enochian words that would cloak his form while he searched for the soul. He was in a part of hell that looked like a dungeon. They were mentally torturing the souls hear, showing them what the loved most in life, showing them hope and then making it fade into black smoke before their eyes over and over. Castiel had to get away from this side. He knew this process was slow and meant to create insanity. The demons wanted something quite different from the soul he was here for. He made haste in working his way out of the dungeons, the grimy caves and tunnels. But still it took him hours, days to come to an end. Time passed slower in hell and for that Castiel was shamefully grateful. He needed the time to find the soul. Slowly whimpers and sobs gave way to blood curdling screams. The souls were being physically tortured by relentless demons. Demons were being tortured by demons. It was bloodlust and desperate souls everywhere you turned. Castiel tried to dim his grace and not attract attention from the demons. He forced himself to look upon every soul. They were average souls. The angels told him that he would be able to see the soul he was sent for. That it would be different. So Castiel picked his way through the broken souls; through the screams. He made sure to look upon every soul he passed. He wouldn't fail this soul. Weeks passed as he relentlessly searched every rack in hell. He was passing through a crowd racks were aligned together and souls were being tortured side by side. One of those wielding the blade was a soul, and not a demon. He threw down the blade and picked up a whip. As he brought it forth into his victim he screamed to as of willing the pain unto himself instead. He cried at the sight that he himself was creating. Castiel saw a demon observing the same man, a victorious smile on his face. Coining forward He put a hand out to stop the soul and collected the tattered soul off the rack with a nod of approval. Castiel moved quickly toward the soul and saw now how whole it still was. The light was still strong and steady. Perhaps this wasn't the sword of Michael, but it was something amidst the black nothing of hell, so Castiel followed him. He worked his way down until they were around more specific torture chambers, places for electro shock, and water boarding. The soul walked steadily down a dark corridor and Castiel was fast to follow. He stayed close and the suddenly the man turned around and pushed Castiel against the cavern wall pulling a knife out to hold it against Castiel's throat.

"Why are you following me?" He barked out, his voice low and threatening.

"My name is Castiel. I believe I have come here for you." Replied the angel calmly, despite the blade at his neck.

The man faltered "Me? Why me? What for?"

Castiel let his grace flare and the mans eyes widened. "I am an angel of The Lord, I was sent here to rescue Dean Winchester."

The man backed away, shock all over his features. But quickly he stored all his emotions away again. "Why?" He said again not lowering his blade, as if it could help him anyway.

"Because god commands it." He reached out a hand toward the soul. "Please allow me into your mind, I need to be certain that you are the one I came for."

The soul sank back further from Castiel shaking his head.

"I can never go back." He said quietly.

"Yes you can." Castiel said dismissively. "But

"No!" The soul yelled and Castiel furrowed his brows.

"Why?"

"Why? Why!?" The man fumed. "You want in? Want to know why?!" He stepped into Castiel's reach letting his fingers brush his head. When Castiel entered his mind he was instantly overwhelmed with feeling.

Pain

Sorrow

Sacrifice

Guilt

Regret

Anger

He felt the years of torture that Dean endured. And the years of torture that he conducted he was rushed through forty years of it before coming to the surface. The soul was indeed Dean Winchester. He experienced death in his memory. Felt the hell hound rip open his flesh. He heard the last thought that had rang clear in the mans mind.

For Sammy

Castiel couldn't handle it anymore. He retreated from Dean's mind. He understood why he believed he couldn't leave. He wouldn't risk breaking the deal he'd made for Sam's life. He also believed that he couldn't return to the living because he thought he had been gone for forty years and that he also could not be redeemed from his actions here in hell. Castiel realized probably for the first time that the soul was covered in blood and it had been long since any of it was his. His head was been and his jaw was working as he tried to contain all the emotions that he felt. Castiel realized that this was why his soul was still so whole; he was strong enough to reach past his pain and still see what was important. On some level this man knew he still had a purpose and would let himself break just yet. Looking into the light of Dean's soul Castiel couldn't help but think it was quite beautiful that someone who looked so broken on the outside could be so internally pure.

"Dean," he said, capturing the soul's attention. "Sam's deal was completed the moment you died and came here. You will both live when I take you back. Time here stretches, so you have not been gone as long as you think." He put a hand on Dean shoulder. "Even if you cannot forgive yourself, heaven has forgiven your sins. God has forgiven your sins. Sam will too."

"How can I live with it?" The man asked. Castiel swallowed hard because he didn't want Dean to live with it. But orders were orders.

"You must Dean, you must. We have work for you. Something worse is coming to the surface and we need you to fight. Your family needs you." He saw the conflict in the the mans eyes. Much to Castiel's satisfaction he had stowed his knife away. He paced back one way and then the other. "Dean, we have little time you must choose now." Castiel felt bad but they were indeed running out of time. He could hear beings nearing them.

"What do I have to do?" He asked, Castiel saw tears shinning in his eyes as he stepped closer to the man. "Trust me, allow me to guide your soul." The man nodded and Castiel pressed two fingers to his forehead. The man slumped and Castiel grabbed him under the arms and hugged him to his chest. He let his grace shine upon them both, searing any enemies that had been coming for them, and spread his wings to carry them to the surface. His brothers pulled back from the fight and returned to heaven to await Castiel's word. He would continue with the soul alone. By the time they arrived at deans grave, the soul had become conscious again, now in the form of a spirit. He looked at the grave slightly angered. "They didn't burn me?"

"No, quite fortunately. I could not have rescued you with out a body."

"So how do we do this?" Dean said uncomfortably looking at his grave.

"I would look away." Castiel warned.

"Seen worse" Dean replied unfazed. Castiel nodded and pulled the body from its resting place with a gesture of his hands. Dean cringed a bit at the sight of his mangled decaying corpse. Castiel took a deep breath and placed a palm on the corpses head as he exhaled light surrounded the body and it was made whole again. Castiel turned toward Dean. "When I reunite you with your body you will pass through my grace." Dean noticed the uneasy tone to Castiel's words. "The power will be like a blast in your mind. I'm not sure how much you'll forget of hell, probably just the last year or so. I'm sorry it is not more." Dean nodded.

"So I won't remember you? I won't remember that angels saved me?"

"No." Said Castiel. Dean nodded again.

"Alright let's see how long I can keep it that way." He said tiredly.

"You want to forget?" Castiel asked confused.

"No, but angels? That's a bit beyond my comfort zone. I just don't like knowing how much I don't know is all. Break the news to me again when I have access to alcohol." He said with an attempt at a grin.

"Are you ready?" Asked Castiel. Dean nodded. "Put your arm out." Dean did, Castiel waved his jacket away, and gripped Dean's arm. He whispered the enochian words and Dean's soul faded into blue light that Castiel took into himself. As Dean passed through his grace Castiel cried out and sank to his knees. He could feel everything that Dean had felt in his time short time on earth. He could feel everything that humans did. He understood why his father loved them so much. Shakily he gripped the shoulder of Dean's body and forced the soul out. He didn't know it would result in the hand shaped scar, but at the time he wouldn't have cared. He needed the endless stream of emotions to end. Castiel felt warm air rush out from where soul and body came together again. The whole clearing by his grave had been leveled by the blast. He left the body and sent the message to the angels in heaven. That was when he realized the angel chatter was completely silent. Waiting for Castiel's word.

Dean Winchester is saved.

He spread his wings and flew to rejoin his garrison. He was still very perturbed by the state of his grace. He never thought that one human could change a divine being, until it happened. Even though Dean was gone from Castiel he had changed the apathy, the stoic nature of this angelic soldier. It was as if part of Dean had been left behind, even though Castiel knew no such thing could be true. Just as unintentional as the scar on Dean's shoulder, dean had left a mark on Castiel's true form. Now there would forever be a profound bond that he now shared with the human.