*Disclaimer* I do not own Supernatural (nor do I claim to), I just love it and happen to get alot of ideas for stories in my head.

Chapter One

Castiel sat on the ground; he didn't care enough to stand. He did not like it here. It was dark here, it was cold, it was empty. There was no light… no warmth… none. No matter how much he stretched out his power, his grace, he always came up empty…. Because that was what this place was, right? Void of anything good, there was no sun, no growth, no spring, no bees… just corrupt souls, demons and monsters. Their souls were nothing like human souls, human souls were bright, clean, pure energy… These souls were more like black holes….and they were everywhere, Castiel could feel them EVERYWHERE. He did not like it here…

Castiel did not look up as Dean came over, he already knew it was Dean… why look up to confirm it? Dean…. Dean was the one good thing left in the world, he was the only human soul in Purgatory, the only source of warmth, the only thing that didn't make his grace crawl as if with goose bumps, in all of Purgatory… and Purgatory was Castiel's entire world. No matter how far he flew, he never escaped… it stood to reason that Purgatory was all that was left, escape wasn't even a hope. Since Purgatory was the entire world, it [also] stood to reason that Dean was the one sole good thing in the world. It was why Castiel stayed as close to him as possible, as much as possible, as if he needed constant reassurance that there was still light, that there was still good.

Dean came to a stop just behind Castiel, his bloody axe held up at ready in his hand. Monsters were everywhere, and they attacked at any time, Dean had long ago learned to not let his guard down, he was always ready, and always armed. He didn't say a word, just stood by the broken angel, as if he too needed reassurance, as if Castiel was his one tie to humanity, the one thing that kept him from becoming one of them. He was a savage, he showed no mercy and nothing that attacked them lived, if it realized they were not an easy kill and tried to run Dean would chase it down and hack it to pieces. There was something wild and frightening in his eyes, but it dulled down a bit when he was near Castiel. The angel, though insane, was no fool however; he knew very well Dan had changed, and that the changes were more than skin-deep.

Castiel slammed into the ground with a thud, his cheek scrapping against the dead leaves, his chest pressing onto the ground with the force of the explosion. He lay there for a while, frozen, as his sensed picked up all the evil, it made his grace want to retch, it was everywhere. It reminded him of Hell, except there was no trace of a fallen archangel anywhere here, just corrupt souls, ravenous souls, he could feel their need to tear, their want for flesh, not to eat, the dead didn't eat… just to feel the blood run through their fangs as their prey died, after all it wasn't the same when they were simply preying on other souls in Purgatory. They missed the feeling of it, of biting down, claws and fangs sinking into soft flesh… and they had been alerted of their presence. He stood up then, overcoming the crushing awareness of the souls of Purgatory to sense Dean's soul, his uncorrupt human soul, lying unconscious on his back a couple of feet away from him. The explosion had been harder on the human, Castiel supposed. He waited, standing statue still, until Dean awakened. Except….. Dean didn't wake up…. He could feel himself slipping, and panic arose… "Wake up" he boomed, power behind his voice, unfurling his wings. Dean slowly sat up, a confused look on his face. Castiel paid him no heed, he scoped the surroundings, his wings beginning to beat a without his full consent. "Good" he said, as Dean straightened up. He finally looked at him, though his instincts screamed at him to not ignore his surroundings, even though his angelic senses could sense a threat without help of his eyes. "We need to get out of here" he told Dean, looking him straight in the eye, trying to convey urgency at the same time as his mind began to wander. "Where are we?" Dean asked, looking around a bit, his face still wore a confused expression. "You don't know?" Castiel asked, the majority of his attention coming back to Dean. "Last I remember, we ganked Dick" Dean said, it was obvious he was trying to figure out what was apparent to everyone else… in this case, what was apparent to Castiel. Castiel felt an urge to remind Dean he wasn't stupid, or slow, but instead answered with another question "And where would he go in death?" trying to help Dean react the conclusion on his own. It was plainly written on Dean face the instant realization hit him, "Wait are you telling me-" he began, when Castiel interrupted "Every soul here is a monster" he said. What did that say about him? The voice, the one voice in Castiel mind that still sounded like his former self, his sane self, seemed to be implying Castiel was also a monster, hadn't he killed two of his own brothers, sucked in all the souls from Purgatory, gone on a killing rampage, and unleashed the Leviathans on earth? Didn't he belong here as well? The millions of shatters pieces of Castiel's mind quickly washed over that one particular voice. "This is where they come to prey on each other for all eternity" Castiel finished, as Dean began to look increasingly frightened. "We're in Purgatory?" Dean asked, incredulous, though Castiel knew the information had sunk in and that there was no doubt in the hunter's mind of their current location. "How do we get out?" Dean asked. Castiel could feel the slightly hope radiate from his soul, as if there was a slight chance Castiel might be able to spread his wings and flew them both back to earth. It pained Castiel that he had failed Dean yet again, as there was no possible way for him to take Dean home. "I'm afraid we are much more likely to be ripped to shreds" Castiel answered truthfully, quickly. His wings began to beat again, slowly, as if the order to do so only came from a fraction of his mind. Dean looked at Castiel with fear in his eyes, the tiny speck of hope crusted. He turned around to survey their surroundings… that's when Castiel's wings took him away. His mind wandered for an instant, and he found himself standing in a small puddle of mud, wings still spread out, eyes closed, grace searching… for what, he did not know, but it was stretching outward. He stood like that for a while, simply searching. The only conclusion he came to, was that there was nothing to search for. All he found was the same twisted souls, monsters of different shapes and species, nothing more, except for the small speck of pure energy, at this very moment frightened and confused. Castiel opened his eyes, he did not know how far he'd flown, but he could still sense Dean, even at this distance. "Cas?..." Castiel felt more than heard Dean's cry for help, as his friend was calling out in more ways than one. Castiel could sense his pulsing soul, it searched in its own way, a way much more simple than his own, it was completely subconscious.

Dean glanced around, trying to take in all of his surrounding at once, his entire body tensed, and he crouched in a fighting stance- ready to flee or fight at a moment's notice. His hands groped slightly at the air as his eyes looked for a weapon in the ground, which was bare except for dead leaves and twigs. He heard more low growls, sounds of anticipation…. His eyes flashed to the left, were a large four legged creature was stalking out from the shadows. He backed up a bit knowing very well he did not have the upper hand, nor a way to fight back. His breathing quickened as the creature took another step forward, his dirty claws digging into the dirt, its red eyes ravenous… it was going to tear Dean part. Its lips pulled up to reveal broken fangs, they must have been long and sharp, back when it was alive, and it snarled with impatience. Dean couldn't even manage a glare; his eyes were wide and refused to narrow. He wondered if this would feel the same as when the hellhounds had dragged him to Hell, tearing into him and shredding his chest. He closed his eyes, knowing he couldn't fight and refusing to prolong such a painful death. The hesitation and muffed shriek caused him to reopen his eyes; Castiel stood in front of him, blocking the soul's path, his shoulders were tense, his posture straight and determined. For a moment, he looked just like the righteous Cas, the smite-y Cas, Dean's best friend. The creature's eyes were wide, fangs bared in fear, posture stiff, eyes wide and bright. It took Dean a moment to realize it wasn't a refection from the moon that shone in the creature's eyes. It was a burning white light; it reminded Dean of when he'd killed Zachariah. The creature's mouth was open wide, as if in a scream, Dean noticed its fangs weren't bared; they were simply exposed because of the creature's grimace. This lasted only a second more, before Castiel, nearly unnoticeably, twitched and the creature's eyes burned out in a flash of brilliant light, much as Pamela's had. It fell to the ground in a smoking heap and Castiel relaxed. Before Dean could even open his mouth to speak Castiel was at his side, "We have to get out of here" he said, grabbing his shoulder and taking flight.

Castiel was useless, it might be more specific to say 'nearly useless' but in reality, it was all the same. Castiel didn't fight, he didn't like to fight, he didn't want to fight… it reminded him to much of what he'd done… ALL of what'd he'd done. He'd killed so many of his brothers and sisters, he'd rebelled against Heaven, lost faith in his Father, he'd worked with a demon, he'd broken Sam's wall, he'd opened the door to Purgatory, he'd called himself God, he'd killed so many people, he'd let Leviathan's loose into the world… He didn't want to kill anymore; he didn't want to cause pain or suffering anymore. Dean wanted him to fight; Dean believed he needed his help. Castiel hated to fail him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. At times his insanity was so peaceful, there were so many different pieces of him, it was hard to feel guilty, to feel angry, anxiety, to feel anything but blissful and ignorant….but when he fought, when he fought all his memories of the blood on his hands slammed into him. Castiel couldn't take it; it was too much for any one piece of him… He imagined this must be what human children felt like, too young to understand, too young to cope…

Dean finally spoke; he only spoke when it was necessary anyways, "We have to go" he said, his voice gruff. Castiel looked up at him, he didn't ask 'Where' as he knew there wasn't a destination in mind, it was all Purgatory, it was all the same. Dean simply didn't like staying in one spot because the souls of Purgatory tended to smell blood, whether theirs or that from whatever creature Dean had most recently chopped up. They'd gather, they'd come in large numbers, and they'd get swarmed. It was better to move before they came looking, the creatures of Purgatory didn't tend to track. Castiel stood up slowly and nodded, though Dean had already turned around. He picked up the few other weapons he'd managed to put together and began walking. Castiel followed without a word.