Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, even the smallest atom. No profit will be made from this fanfic, and no animals were harmed in the making of it.
Summary/Warnings: A little one-shot about Dean's rescue from Hell, and the help Castiel received in finding Dean's soul. Did not get Beta'd so any mistakes are totally mine.
They were far from the battle front, two spies flying quickly across enemy territory, two beacons of Grace soaring across the cold expanse of Hell. Lightning flashed, bringing ravaged souls into cold contrast for brief flashes. Streams echoed in the darkness, cries for salvation, cries of pain, cries of agony. Both angels seemed to flinch away from these tainted souls, these screams. Celestial beings such as they did not belong in this Darkness. Their Grace screamed to them to save these poor souls, the damned individuals, but they had to fly past on silent wings. They had a mission. Deep into the Pit they flew, past innumerable souls, past demons that shied away from them.
The angel in the lead, far brighter than the one follower, appeared to be searching for something, darting back and forth, quick as humming bird, like a blood hound following a scent. The moment when it came when it seem to zero in on a path, weaving in and out between souls. The closer to the destination they got, the more forms became visible in the light, the more they manifested. Bodies slowly became visible through the light. The first, brighter, was delicate, small, feminine in a asexual way, and oddly enough, was blind folded. A white bandage wrapped around her head, hiding her eyes, the bandage only a few shades lighter than her porcelain skin. She wore a white, open backed tunic, her wings arching gracefully from her body, pumping powerfully, easily holding her aloft. The same bandages wrapped around her legs and feet, giving her an oddly wounded look. Her head moved back and forth, almost as if she was looking around behind that bandage.
The angel behind her looked slightly more masculine, his hair dark, eyes, free of bandages, a dark blue. They were locked on the angel in front of him, following in her wing beats. He wore essentially the same tunic, open backed for his wings, but his feet were bare. The differences in them were only truly obvious when they hovered briefly together. "What is is, Seraphiel? Are we close?" the masculine angel's voice was slightly gruff, and he watched the smaller angel, his face serene and worried at the same time.
"Yes. Close. It is hard to locate him. He is... tainted. Changed. I am fearful we are too late. But it will be as He wills it. Come. We are close." Her voice was soft, gentle, barely heard above the screams and thunder. She flew off again, soaring with silent wings through the maelstrom of Hell, screams and lightning following her.
They found him soon, him and his demon teacher, and their anger was great and righteous. Flaring bright like the sun, they fell upon them like birds from on high. Though blinded, Seraphiel slammed into the demon, scalding him with her Grace, throwing him back from the soul they had come to raise. Power flared around her, gleaming in the shape of six wings, and the demon shrank back, hate in his eyes. "It is too late. The seal is already broken. You cannot save him." the demon hissed.
"Begone, Alistair. Even here, in the depths of the Darkness, you can be struck down by the Light. Leave now, while I am gracious. Leave now, while you still have the chance." The demon fled from Seraphiel, her voice following him through the darkness, burning in his ears. She turned from watching him go, watching her younger brother struggle with the soul he had been tasked in saving. He had ripped the soul away from the torture it had been inflicting on another. Seraphiel ached to save that soul, to pull it down from where it was strung on the rack, but that was not her task. Her task was to lead him here, and lead him back out. So she watched.
Castiel struggled with Dean, struggled to draw him away from the taint that had wrapped itself around his soul like a snake, constricting slowly and squeezing out all that was good and pure and beautiful. All Castiel could do was hold Dean close, holding him close to his Grace, feeling the soul scream in pain at the touch of such purity. Castiel could feel the taint start to burn off, rising to the surface like oil in water. DeanDeanDean he called, pulling him even closer, griping him tightly, marking him forever. Rather than Dean's soul quieting, it struggled more, screaming NO!, thrashing, struggling to get away, to fall back into darkness from which it had been pulled. Castiel had to tighten his grip, holding Dean even closer, whispering words of hope, love and salvation. Dean shrieked as the words burned into him, but finally his struggles quieted, and he stilled in Castiel's arms.
"Castiel, we must go. We are being watched..." Seraphiel's voice trailed and her head scanned back and forth. She could feel them watching, hovering just out of sight, taking bravery from their numbers. "Castiel. We must leave. Immediately." Her voice was sharp now. She could feel the darkness pressing in now, watching them with angry eyes. A light jump, and she hovered in the air, waiting for Castiel to join her.
He nodded at her order, spreading his wings, Dean still held in his arms. A quick jump, a strong downbeat, and he followed her as she quickly lead them out of hell.
They flew quickly, but the darkness was closing in. She could feel it. "Go! Go now!" she yelled at him, pulling up. "I will hold them." She span easily in the air, dropping all the bonds that held her Grace back. A supernova flared behind Castiel as he flew, a holy brightness lighting up the depths of Hell for the first, and last time. Castiel did not know if she would survive, if she would make it out. It was not his duty to know. His duty was to save Dean, and he would, if it was the last thing he did.