My idea of how Cas got Dean out of Perdition. I may have changed a few things, but that's what fanfic is for. Chapters will, for the most part, be posted 2 at a time.
Hell is a place of stellar first impressions. It really strives to create an imprint on its visitors, an experience that they will never forget. For that, it's commendable.
The first thing that struck Castiel was the smell. There was the ever-present brimstone, but there were a few other scents fighting for attention. The flurries of ash and cinder floating in the air smelled of burnt trees. Then came the underlying iron tang of blood, and fires being fueled by things that definitely didn't belong in fires.
There was also the sound. Horrible, earthy moans, punctuated with occasional coarse screams that put a shiver down your spine.
He walked amongst the crags of dully shining obsidian, the lowly slums in the 7th circle that some of the spirits had learned to call a dwelling. Not home, not nearly: but the closest thing to something like that down here.
He walked quickly, head down to avoid unwanted attention. He didn't need to give the spirits any reason to think he was different than the other billions of souls that filtered through here. He didn't need them to know that he wasn't dead, and he definitely didn't need them to know that he was, in fact, an angel. So he had to ignore them. As much as it pained him to see the confusion and pain of human suffering, he was only here to save one.
Dean Winchester, the righteous man who most definitely didn't belong in hell.
Dean Winchester, the selfless man.
Dean Winchester, the self-sacrificer who sealed his own death and eternal torment to save the life of his brother.
Castiel just needed to find him, amidst the billions of other hopeless souls occupying hell. He would undoubtedly be in one of the more secluded divisions.
In all honesty, Castiel had no idea where to start. He only knew that the man was being kept somewhere in the middle of Limbo, closer to the throne room. Assumedly so the King could keep watch on him.
He walked. And walked. Time was different in Hell, so he wasn't quite sure for how long. But he needed to save his celestial energy for the return trip, which would undoubtedly be challenging.
He found the simple motion of putting one foot in front of the other to be very confining. But he knew it would be worth it the moment he found the man, the moment he fulfilled his one purpose.
So he walked past the spirits flickering aimlessly through their forced existence, through the darkened fields of Limbo filled with grieving moans. He only chanced the occasional glance up to study his surroundings.
He looked up towards the blank ceiling that was much too high to see. It acted as a sky, a black, starless, moonless sky that didn't permit anything in the way of light.
In fact, the only way he was able to see at all was by the fires burning all around. And, of course, the grace burning through him would provide him sufficient light should the fires go out. But that hopefully wouldn't be something he had to worry about.
Castiel walked, gradually noting less fires pitted in the charred landscape as he did. What little light the hellfire provided slowly dwindled as he left the obsidian slums behind. The air seemed to get thicker, accumulating an ozone smell.
The landscape grew darker until the only source by which he could see was a small but hugely bright green orb, suspended a few hundred feet in the air. He could barely make out the glint of metal snaking towards it, and realized that whatever was up there was chained into place.
Castiel noted the way that the hairs on his vessel's arms and back of the neck stood on end. Puzzled, he tilted his head, trying to determine why. Almost as if in answer, he heard a crash of thunder shoot out from ahead, crackling energy flinging itself across the sky.
And he heard the screams.
The Rack.
Thanks for reading! Reviews appreciated.