My sword flashed, another demon meeting its grisly end by my hand. The siege of Hell roiled around me, my brothers and sisters locked in combat with the twisted, seething masses of the underworld.
The demons outnumbered us a hundred to one, but we were angels. The withered shells of tortured souls were no match for our God-given power. And yet still they hurled themselves at us one after the other, a rabid pack of starving dogs yearning for their own demise as much as ours. Despite my disgust, I could not help but pity them a little. Even oblivion was far better a fate than to remain in this God-forsaken place for eternity.
My comrades pressed closer to me as we forced our way forward. To my left, Melakim thrust her sword through a demon's throat. It let out an ear-splitting screech before it disintegrated into ash. Saxos fought to my right, driving our enemies back with mighty blows.
Saxos grabbed my shoulder. "Castiel, you must go!" he bellowed in my ear. "We'll hold them off!"
Melakim nodded her agreement. They had their orders, and I had mine. These pawns would be easy enough for them to manage without me. If I completed my objective quickly, we could all retreat before real danger slithered forth from some unholy crevice.
I took flight, my wings carrying me higher and higher above the raging battle. The vantage point showed me more of Hell than I had ever wished to see. The landscape, if you could call it that, constantly changed, lurching and groaning like the belly of some deranged beast.
God, I hated it there.
Even up here, soaring above the titanic clash between Lucifer's agents and my siblings, I could here the din of screams erupting from every corner of that endless wasteland. Countless tormented souls, thousands of generations of humans all rotting and bleeding and burning in a giant vat of misery. It was not my place to question my father, but still I had difficulty understanding the necessity of this place. Surely no crime committed during life could ever warrant such punishment in death?
I put those dangerous thoughts from my mind. I had a job to do.
A feeling of recognition flickered in my mind. I was close. Scanning the area, I searched for the one I was looking for. The one I had been sent to save.
There.
I descended. Alone behind enemy lines, I crouched low, hidden in shadows as I crept toward my target.
A male soul was strung up on a chain rack, his limbs splayed in unnatural angles. Rusty hooks had been pierced through his flesh, securing him to the rack by his own hide. What skin was left on his body, that which had yet to be flayed off, was soaked in deep red blood. The man wept pitifully, begging for his torture to stop.
A demon stood off to the side, watching interestedly, but seemed to not be participating in this particular torture session. Instead he looked on as another male soul stepped forward with a knife in his blood-soaked hand. Ignoring his victim's feeble cries for mercy, the man brandished the jagged blade, then thrust it into the man's belly and began to carve.
The soul shrieked in agony as the knife ravaged what was left of his body, and the demon smirked with satisfaction.
Horror and despair welled up inside me. We were too late.
But I knew what I had to do.
I leaped from my hiding place, throwing bolts of my power at the demon. Blinding white light flared all around us. Caught by surprise, the demon cried out and shielded his eyes, skittering away from me like a cockroach.
Using the brief moment, I darted forward to the man who had wielded the torture device. He had fallen to his knees, the blade clattering to the floor.
Knowing I had not a second to spare, I placed my hand on his shoulder. He screamed in pain, my touch like a brand on his flesh. Our eyes met. His haunted, wild eyes were green, and within them I saw a man who had been brutally destroyed in that desolate prison. His many, many years there had begun to scorch away his humanity, turning him into a vicious, mindless creature who craved nothing more than the chance to turn his suffering onto someone else.
I hesitated, my hope failing me.
"Leave me."
His voice was so quiet and raspy, sometimes I think I imagined it. But as I stared into his eyes, something changed. A small layer of his rabid demeanor had melted away. The man he once had been was trying to break through. He was still in there somewhere, clinging to his last shred of humanity.
Meaning there was still hope for him.
I took flight once more, effortlessly carrying his weight alongside mine. His fear was palpable as I lifted him out of Hell, out of that red-soaked pit of horror. Up, up we flew, faster and faster like a meteor speeding toward the earth.
With a burst of light, we reached our destination. I placed the man back inside his body, healing the vessel of all wounds and scars. He would awake, alive, in a moment. And then he would arise to continue his work.
I stood near his grave, watching quietly in the silent clearing. Our ascent out of Hell had wrought havoc on the nearby wildlife, a regrettable consequence. I hate destroying anything my father created.
A muffled crack and a slight shifting of the earth covering his tomb told me he had broke through his coffin. He would be able to dig himself out soon enough. Satisfied that I hadn't raised him from Hell just so he could suffocate himself, I allowed myself a small sigh. My mission was complete.
For now.
I knew our paths would cross again, and soon. The man was to be under my charge from now on. But I was needed elsewhere at that moment. I had to report back to my garrison commander, to report that Dean Winchester had been saved.
Before I turned to go, I glanced back at the grave. The dirt moved more violently as he fought to claw his way out. I hoped this Dean Winchester was everything they said he was, everything they said he could be. He would need to be in the coming months. He had work to do.
And so did I.