*disclaimers, the cool thing to do: I own nothing. So yeah…I guess that's it. Also, this is a work of fiction, something I'm doing to unwind. I have no beta or anything like that. There shouldn't be any terribly egregious grammatical errors or anything, but if there are, just let it slide. I'm just in it to have fun. 

SUMMERY: Castiel is lost, in more ways than one. His faith, loyalties, and strength are challenged as he endures the war of hell and the hell of war. Meanwhile, a moment of weakness on his part may put Dean, Sam, and all of humanity at risk. And ultimately everyone on this journey must ask themselves who wrote the story of this world and war?


Apocryphal

Chapter One

One more hit. To the head, to the stomach…it didn't matter. Just one more hit and he wouldn't be able to take it anymore. He'd tell everything; where the Winchesters were, the game plan of the angel soldiers, what they had in store of Dean… Everything he'd fought for would crumble.

Where are you now? He thought through a haze. Uriel? Gabriel? …Lord?

These were silly thoughts, he knew. There was a war going on; no one had time to come down here and rescue him. He was good at what he did, yes, but he was by no means vital to fight against the apocalypse. Besides, not one army could spare a soldier and certainly no human would be trying to find this vessel. No, he was alone. For the first time in his life, he realized, he was completely alone. Even God would not enter these caverns…not even if it could be done.

Castiel felt the Things moving in a circle around him. They laughed at him, taunting his inability to fight back. He didn't know what They were. When They'd first dragged him down here…to the Pit, as Dean had so bitterly called it…

The young angel (for he was young by eternity's standards) quivered on the ground. What had happened? He squinted his one good eye, trying to remember. He'd…and They'd…no… Whatever had happened it was gone. He knew only that They wanted to know everything he knew. He remembered the pain, pain he never should have been able to feel for although he was in a human body he was not of a human body. And angels don't feel pain…at least not the way humans do.

Pain in humans, Castiel was quickly realizing, was an overwhelming thing. It dulled all thoughts, memories, and resolve. Eventually he knew it would break him. Then he would tell Them everything…and everything would be lost. He felt his eyes, or at least his good eye, grow moist. Crying? He thought? Am I crying? No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when a flood of tears began to stream down his face. He was alone…he was losing the last battle of his life. He would die alone…he would die a traitor.

"I know where Dean is!" He shrieked. Around him, They danced in a circle and began to make a merry chittering noise.

"You know?"

"We know you know"

"That's why you're here!"

"Tell us!"

"Tell us!"

"Tell us! And we'll kill you quick."

How many of them were there? Three? Three hundred? Castiel didn't know nor did he dare raise his head to look. He uttered a small sob and drew his hands up the back of his head, pressing his forehead against the ground. He wouldn't even be allowed to die in his own body...

One of the things stomped hard on Castiel's bare back with a clawed heel. The angel let out a cry of anguish; the Thing's foot carried with it the burn of a hundred fires, a hundred stab wounds and the crushing force of a two-ton weight.

Castiel knew he should be dead. This human form wasn't meant to take such abuse and down here he was only as strong as the vessel he was in. Yet they were keeping him alive, waiting for him to bend to their will. How long had it been? It felt like eons. He knew they could keep him alive as long as they wanted…forever…an eternity of this pain.

Castiel pulled himself into a slumped sitting position and prepared to look at Them. With his one good eye (the other had long since been destroyed beyond all use at Their hands) he studied these strange creatures. They were…They were shadows with grinning faces dancing on the wall. Empty eyes…emptier smiles…black light. So many of them…so many….

"I'll tell you…" Castiel whispered, slumping back down to the floor. Maybe he could lie…maybe they'd believe him and end the pain.

Before he could open his mouth to say another word, one of the shadows detached itself from the wall. In a fraction of a second it had manifested into the physical realm. It was horrible…Castiel closed his good eye and lost the image in a fog of pain. In an ironic twist of life, it was the agony he so desperately sought to escape that saved his sanity.

"If you lie," A voice lectured in a singsong voice. "You'll regret it."

As the thing spoke Castiel felt his skin ignite. He screamed, rolling futilely on the rocky surface of the floor. He felt his very bones sizzle and the smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his senses. Then, suddenly, it stopped. Castiel didn't need to look; his skin would not be charred…yet. This had been a preview.

His exhausted mind finally snapped. He no longer felt bound by honor, loyalty, or faith.

Alone

Abandoned

Alone

Abandoned

Alone

The words rolled themselves around inside his head, circling with the same tormenting glee that They had done only minutes (hours?) before.

"Riverbend, Wisconsin!" Castiel screamed. "The Winchesters are in Riverbend, Wisconsin!"

The laughing, manic and evil, began again as the shadows returned to their cryptic shadow dance.

Then the wall on which they twisted with their delight exploded…and everything stopped.