Title: fallen so low
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for aired season four
Pairings: implied Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 275
Point of view: third
Castiel has only spent a moment in Hell, in all his existence. He was given a task and he completed it, retrieving God's chosen from Alistair's grip.
He remembers Hell as fire and screaming, as sulfur and wailing, as pain and pain and pain—
"Welcome to my worktable, angel," Alistair croons, coating ashes onto Castiel's wings. "Let's see if we can't dirty you up a little."
Father will save him. Unless this is Father's design. Unless this is part of Father's plan, and he will be here forever, until the war is over, until Father can spare the power it'd take to bring him back to Heaven.
"Oh, so gorgeous, angel," Alistair purrs, slicing along Castiel's flank and lapping up the blood with his forked tongue. "Tasty, too."
Castiel prays for strength. This is not part of Father's plan. His brothers or sisters will come for him. They will.
"You took my favorite from me," Alistair tells him. "My star pupil. That boy could'a gone far, but you took him away." Castiel gasps as Alistair snaps his left wing, wrenching it around at the base. "Think of this as paying a debt."
Whispering Father's name, Castiel looks past his tormentor, imagining Heaven's perfect street and never-ending sky.
"I know what you thought about," Alistair whispers, and the words twine about Castiel's mind, dragging him back to the Pit. "Lookin' at my boy, at those large eyes, at those plump, pretty lips. I know, angel."
And Alistair laughs, "Why do you think you're here? No one's comin', kiddo. Just you and me."
"No," Castiel murmurs.
Alistair smiles. "Lust is a sin, brother. And sinners are mine."
