Fun fact that you probably didn't know unless you're as obsessed with History as I am:
Purgatory was a concept invented by Pope Leon X as a way to frighten people into donating more money to the Church for reasons. People were terrified of spending time in Purgatory so they willingly gave up what little money they had to be forgiven of their sins and avoid the waiting room. That action actually pissed off the more educated people like Luther and it became one of the reasons why des religions protestantes (excuse my French) emerged.
Now, Enjoy! :D
When Dean comes to, he is surrounded by whiteness. It's practically blinding and he can't help but wince at its intensity. Dean could have sworn he and the winged man had fallen just before reaching the exit but his new surrounding seem to dictate otherwise. He wonders where he is now and in what realm he has wandered to. Everything seems empty and vacant and he wonders if this is maybe purgatory – though History would suggest it to be highly unlikely.
It's only when he reaches forward for no particular reason and that his hand brushes soft feathers that he realizes he is not in a different realm. Dean shifts his gaze downwards where he has finally become aware of a certain sensation and sees a pair of arms wrapped around his waist protectively. When he pivots to see the clearly comatose winged man, he expects a blue hue to blind him but it is not there. He can see his features as clear as day. Though he is unconscious, he seems to be in pain and upon further inspection Dean realizes it's because his left wing is broken. Regardless of that fact, his massive wings still cocoon them protectively and Dean almost wants to stay within its confines forever – he doesn't want to face the nightmare on the other side. In any case, his saviour is rather handsome though Dean can't help but notice how he resembles a tax collector. He has short, dark brown hair, lightly tanned skin and a scruff covering his square jaw. Clothes-wise, he wears a black suit with a white dress shirt and a blue tie all of which is covered by a beige trench coat.
"Hey…" Dean finally says and nudges him gently. "Wake up."
The winged man's eyes flutter open revealing bright blue irises. He is already very handsome and, to Dean, his gorgeous eyes seem like an overkill – he is surely a lady-killer. "Dean Winchester." He says almost in relief as a smile graces his lips, "Are you hurt?"
"N-no…" Dean stutters and his eyes shift to the great white wings as they are retracted and folded against the winged man's back. He releases his waist to sit upright and Dean mimics his movement dumbly. "How do you know my name?"
"My name is Castiel." He answers, "I am an Angel of the Lord and I have been watching you for a long time."
"An Angel?" Dean repeats incredulously.
"Yes." Castiel confirms.
"Angels aren't real." Dean says, shaking his head as though the action would denounce Castiel as an illusion.
"If you believe in daemons, is it such a stretch to believe in Angels, Dean Winchester?" Castiel asks.
"I believe in what I see." Dean states with a heavy frown.
"You see me, do you not?" Castiel says, cocking his head to the left.
"I'm in Hell." Dean reminds, "You could be a daemon posing as an Angel for all I know. If you are, you did a shit job with the disguise."
Castiel looks at himself with a heavy frown, "I apologize if my appearance offends you." He says, "I have taken my only willing vessel to come save you because my true form is far less inconspicuous."
"…What." Dean breathes and he feels himself getting frustrated.
"In any case," Castiel dismisses absently, "We must hurry. Daemons are surely patrolling the area for you and we must get out of this wretched place as soon as possible—"
"Hold on—" Dean objects and jumps to his feet, "Why the hell should I go anywhere with you?"
"I am an Angel of the Lord. I have come to save you." Castiel answers and is visibly perplexed with his say so isn't enough for Dean.
"And I'm Oprah." Dean says sarcastically.
"No you are not." Castiel says after a moment of confused silence, "You are Dean—"
"Sarcasm!" Dean snaps and takes a step back, "I'm not going to follow you until you prove you're…you."
"This is not the time—"
"Proof!" Dean insists, interrupting Castiel.
"Daemons are looking for us." Castiel says with a low growl, "One of them is Alastair and I remember him promising to deliver a threat. Do you really wish to risk facing his wrath?"
Dean freezes at the thought. Alastair's torture was the worst. Choosing between he and Castiel now seems like a relatively easy choice and yet Dean can't help himself. "I don't care." He lies. "I want proof."
Castiel frowns and takes a step closer to Dean. Dean flinches, wanting to keep the other at a safe distance but before he can, Castiel presses two fingers to his forehead. A sense of peace and tranquility wash over Dean and his eyes flutter shut as he basks in the sensation. There's a strange ringing in his ears and as it gets louder, Dean realizes they are the voices of Angels. Their tones are melodious and he can't quite grasp what they're saying – or singing, Dean isn't exactly sure – but he hears his name. Eventually he can make out a sentence.
"Save Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man."
Castiel pulls his fingers away and Dean opens his eyes. "Do you believe me now?" Castiel asks.
"I…I guess…" Dean mutters.
"Good. Now follow me." Castiel says and begins to walk in what seems to be a random direction. "My wing is broken and I cannot heal at my proper rhythm in this foul place. We will have to walk."
"You can walk out of Hell?" Dean asks, surprised.
"Of course." Castiel responds and points at the small light high in the chained sky, "You cannot see it very well but there is a mountain that leads to the Gate."
Lightning flashes just as Castiel finishes and Dean can finally see the vague outline of what the Angel is referring to. "How are we going to get there?" Dean asks, "The landscape constantly changes, we'll never make it."
"Untrue." Castiel states, "The landscape may shift but the path remains the same. We must follow it."
"What happens if we go through?" Dean asks. He jogs a bit to stay closer to Castiel. "Do I go to Heaven or something?"
"When we leave, you go back to Earth." Castiel explains, "You still have much to do there. It is not yet time for you to ascend to Heaven."
Dean is a bit disappointed – if he's honest with himself. He's happy to know he'll be reunited with Sam, Bobby, Ellen and Jo but death has a certain peace to it. He remembers when he was alive he was always exhausted and wanting time to relax but never got it. He supposes it was only natural considering he was living the life of a Hunter but he had never chosen said path. In any case, being on Earth and exhausted is a thousand times better than rotting in the pit and forgetting himself.
"How long is it going to take us?" Dean asks.
"I do not know." Castiel admits, "I have never done it before. In fact, this is my first time in Hell."
"Great." Dean huffs sarcastically, "We're definitely going to get lost."
"Highly unlikely." Castiel states, "The army of Angels sent to collect you have memorized the path in case of such an event. We will eventually find our way out."
"Right…" Dean mutters and remembers the other Angelic entities he spotted smiting daemons. There were quite a lot, some bigger than Castiel and now they were nowhere to be found. "What happened to the others?"
"They left." Castiel answers, "Did you not hear them speak?"
"I only heard them say Save Dean Winchester." Dean says.
"Ah, yes." Castiel says, "They were speaking to me. I am the only one left and they are counting on me to raise you from perdition."
"Yeah…" Dean mumbles and his voice momentarily fades. "Tell me something." He says after a short silence, "Why does God give two shits about me? I mean, I'm not exactly the kindest or most important being in the world."
"You are wrong." Castiel says, "You are more important than you could ever imagine. You are the Righteous Man and humanity will need you in the coming days preceding your resurrection."
"Why?" Dean asks and he speeds up to be able to look at Castiel's face as he walks, "What's so important that only I can do?"
"You are the Sword of Michael." Castiel responds and smiles, "You will stop the Apocalypse."
Dean is dumbstruck by the revelation. "Me?" he repeats. "Why me?"
"As I said, you are the Sword of Michael." Castiel says coolly, "Not everyone can be Michael's vessel. His potential vessels must be from a specific bloodline which you fit. He favours you above all the others."
"Michael?" Dean asks, "Michael as in the Archangel Michael?"
"Who else would I refer to?" Castiel asks in return.
"This is insane." Dean breathes and he stops walking. He is overwhelmed by the information that is being given to him. It seems far too incredible to be true. One second he is suffering in Hell, the next an army of Angels comes to his rescue and one of them informs him that he is destined to save the world as the Archangel Michael's vessel. No one was ever that important, it was just something that happened in the movies – or, at least, not to him. He is Dean Winchester and he is a normal guy as far as Hunters go.
"Are you alright, Dean Winchester?" Castiel asks with concern and inches closer, "You seem troubled."
"I am!" Dean snaps and he can't help his rude tone. "How do you think I feel right now?"
"I cannot say." Castiel admits, "I am not particularly good at discerning emotions."
"This is insane." Dean huffs and he suddenly realizes he's hyperventilating.
"Dean Winchester…?" Castiel asks slowly.
"O-oh god…" He stutters and leans against a red rock nearby for support, "I-I think I'm having a panic attack…How is that even possible!? I'm supposed to be dead, I'm not supposed to suffer from anxiety and all that crap!"
"That is only true for Heaven." Castiel explains. "Hell will not provide you with such peace."
"You're not helping!" Dean growls and slowly crumbles to his knees. "Oh my god…"
Dean continues to panic, feeling his heart throb painfully in his chest and every fiber of his body shake as Castiel stares at him awkwardly. The Angel is evidently unaware of what he's supposed to do in such a situation.
"Do something!" Dean snaps.
"I do not know—"
"Of course you don't!" Dean interrupts angrily. "Oh my god, oh my god…!" he huffs and tries to control his breathing but it isn't working. "Why the fuck would you dump all that shit on me!? Did you think I'd react well!? I thought you've been watching me for a long time! You should have known better!"
"I apologize—"
"I don't want your damn apology! It's too late now!" Dean growls and throws his head back, staring at the chained sky, "I just want to calm down!"
There's a brief pause in their conversation during which Dean mutters to himself and whispers encouragements to calm down though they barely do anything. He feels Castiel's eyes upon him, assessing him and he thinks that's all he'll do until he takes a couple of steps forward and presses two fingers to his head again. A sense of peace and tranquility wash over him like the first time Castiel had done the action and Dean's panic attack immediately subsides. When Castiel pulls away, he releases a relieved sigh but remains seated on the dusty ground for a minute.
"Are you feeling better?" Castiel asks.
"Yeah…" Dean croaks.
"I am truly sorry, Dean Winchester—"
"Don't." Dean interrupts.
"I beg your pardon?" Castiel asks, confusion painting his face.
"Dean is fine and I don't want to hear your apology." Dean breaths. "Getting me the hell out of here will be as good and even better than that." He extends his hand to Castiel and waits a moment before adding: "Help me up."
Castiel does as he is commanded and Dean brushes his pants clean once he is on his feet. He looks his hands over and finds them perfectly stable which is a relief. He then turns his gaze to Castiel who seems lost in thoughts as he looks Dean over. Seeing as he is socially inept and doesn't quite understand the complexity behind humans, Dean wonders if his bewilderment is in regards to the panic attack he recently suffered from or his general reactions to what Castiel had to say.
"We should go." Castiel finally says and leads the way again, "There are daemons not far behind."
Dean nods and follows a step behind. During the long hours of the 'day' they spent walking, Dean observes Castiel's back and reflects on what he has been told. He doesn't quite understand what it means to be the vessel of an Archangel – or an Angel for that matter – but he assumes it's relatively similar to how a daemon takes over a human hosts and makes use of their body. He also doesn't understand why Michael favours him above all the other vessels he has the option to choose from but supposes he could be an ideal choice. Though he does fancy himself as normal, Dean reckons he is physically stronger and handy with weapons than most average people. He also has an extensive knowledge on all things supernatural which could easily be useful. However, Dean doesn't know who the other potential vessels are – one of them could be a war veteran or something with even more combat training.
Eventually the 'night' falls. Dean allows Castiel to lead the way for a couple more hours before he finally decides to say something. "Let's stop for now." Dean suggests.
"That would be a terrible idea." Castiel says. "We are being followed by daemons and the second we stop we will be attacked."
"I don't know if it's because you're an Angel or something," Dean says and takes a seat on the ground, leaning against a rock wall. "But you clearly have more energy than me. I'm human and I need to rest. Being fueled with adrenaline does help to some extent but its worn off now. I need to rest."
Castiel still hesitates but ultimately gives in. "Alright." He says slowly and eyes their surroundings wearily. They had wandered into a valley and giant rock walls bordered the side of the path they followed. "How long do you need?"
"At least four hours." Dean says and gets comfortable against the wall – which is virtually impossible.
Castiel stares at him quietly before sitting next to him and offering his non broken wing as a pillow. Dean looks unsure whether to accept the offer or not. "You will not hurt me." Castiel assures, "And this option is far more comfortable than the one you were about to settle for."
Dean nods and leans into the fluffy white feathers. Castiel's wing makes for a soft pillow and Dean finds himself snuggling into it eagerly. He hasn't been this comfortable in decades. However, he still jolts when he feels some of the feathers curl around his body.
"Do not worry." Castiel says softly, "I will keep you safe, Dean."
"I'm not a chick." Dean grumbles and he feels sleep weighing on him. "I can take care of myself." He yawns.
"Women are capable of defending themselves as well as men." Castiel says, "However, I was not trying to imply you were weak with my previous statement. Though you are at a disadvantage."
"How so?" Dean asks and his eyelids are feeling particularly heavy.
"Your exorcisms and demon traps are of no use here." Castiel explains, "The tricks you have acquired as a Hunter are virtually useless now that you are playing by the rules of Hell."
When he finishes his sentence, Castiel notices Dean has already fallen asleep. He smiles at the peaceful expression on Dean's face and pulls him closer so as to partially lay on him as he slept. Castiel hopes the daemons surrounding them will not yet make a move and allow Dean the time necessary to rest – however daemons aren't exactly known for being kind and thoughtful. In any case, no matter what happens, Castiel vows to protect the Righteous Man.
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