A/N: Hello! This is my first published story on FanFiction! Please review and let me know how you feel about it. I plan on making quite a few chapters that range from dealing with Crowley's humanity, Dean's new urge for death, Castiel's denial, and Sam's journey as well. I will be uploading the full first chapter that will really set the storyline in motion, but I felt the need for some backstory first. Please enjoy this journey with me, and I look forward to the reviews. This is so you can get a feel for my writing style a bit. I apologize for the short chapter in advance.
Chapter 0 - Prologue
He felt the blade pierce his skin, the all too familiar scent of blood wash over his chest as Metatron removed the angel blade with mock forgiveness. Dean's breath hitched, as if even his lungs were confused at how the plan had crumbled so easily. Every molecule of his body betrayed him one by one. It wasn't as if this was the first time he faced death. He had run from hell-hound before. Dean wasn't in denial now as he had been then. The young hunter did not feel 'death' by this occurrence, but different. His eyes searched the warehouse for familiarity, but the chains swinging above his head were the only objects that provided solace. The feeling of his life leaving him was not present, yet there was a distinct yank on his soul that hurt more than the gash in his heart. He heard heavy footsteps, words of pain crying out around him, Metatron's mocking ever so authoritatively bounced off the stark surroundings. It was Sammy's voice that momentarily forced Dean out of his distress.
Death before was lighter, even his soul being dragged to Hell didn't have the same sensation of stumbling with useless legs, or the pain of Sammy's piercing voice on his conscience. It was so much quicker, so much more absolute. He loathed this uncertainty, this waiting on an imminent demise.
No chick flick moments, man, he thought to himself wearily, trying to force one last smile for his little brother.
It served more difficult to speak than he anticipated. He opened his mouth, surprising himself with how dryly his voice tripped into the air. His body was burning inwardly. Even the clawing of Crowley's pets had a different impact. They had torn apart his material body quickly enough, their white canines latching his damned soul before proudly delivering it unto its master, as if it were just a game of fetch played in the late afternoon. The only other experience he could relate it to as he fought against himself was when he killed Magnus with the First Blade. His hand shook with anticipation as the mark burned against his skin. He welcomed death because he was more fearful of what the mark was making him into. It was time.
"I'm proud of us, Sammy."
Four seasons had passed since Dean's death. Before the fall, Castiel enjoyed nothing more than sitting in the heaven of an autistic man who drowned in a bathtub, or bee keeping. However, he rarely had much enjoyment from anything these days. After pressing two fingers to Metatron's forehead to read memories of Dean's passing, Castiel devoted himself to nothing more than restoring heaven's order. His intense emotion for humanity still kindled greatly, he decided resolutely that he could do more good as a third-party above than as a friend walking on Earth. He still searched for Dean's heaven, which use to be of the two young brothers setting off fireworks, but has now vanished. Other than this and his memories, Castiel removed himself from humanity to regain his angelic grace.
Sam left the bunker once he sobered up from cheap whiskey. He was unable to convince his brother, now with black eyes, to turn to the trials to save his humanity. Dean listened even less now that he was born again under a demonic influence. The younger brother wanted to pray to Castiel for advice, but Dean angrily refused. They were warded against all angels anyway, and until they figured this whole thing out, it'd be best to let Cas deal with own problems in Heaven. Sam, when not researching on restoring humanity to demons, fell back into the family business. It was about the only thing he understood. Most of his time was spent checking in on young hunters, those idiots who refused to back down from the fucked up life hunting monsters left them with. With Dean completely uncooperative and unwilling to danger any human or angel whilst he got a control on this "new life thing Crowley was spouting about," he announced he wouldn't be present at any future jobs for a while.
Dean didn't lie to Sammy. Those days were over. He would never lie to him again, that part is important. He hadn't planned for what happened next, but he hadn't intentionally sent his little brother away just so he could return to what his humanity hadn't allowed him to fully enjoy since coming back from Hell so long ago. Yet, with that troublesome little nagging presence at bay, the hallway emitted an odor that the new demon allowed to wash over him.
Each step he anticipated more and more, until he broke a smile before reaching the end of that wretched torture line Crowley reinstated as soon as he could. If memory served right, and, oh, it did, the double doors would be right here. A chill pressed down hard on Crowley who still suffered from the taint of humanity. The guilt of witnessing a miracle in the form of Dean Winchester, now Crowley's second in command, among many other titles but that the nicest of them all, opening two doors in almost a theatrical way. Both heavy doors slammed back against bloodstained concrete of bones as wails of sorrow, horror, and disbelief filled every crevice, including Crowley's humanity. He once dreamt of the day when he and Alastair would stand by taking in the beautiful torture technique of John's son, but victory tasted bitter in his mouth now as Deans fingers played across cold blades. Crowley turned his back as Dean begun to give out the rewards to Abbadon's followers who were too stupid to take their own life. The new demon's giggle attached to Crowley's humanity and did not leave.