Hell, 1st Circle - P.R.I.D.E
Present Day
Crowley found himself in a dark and desolate room. He knew that he was still in the castle because there was the confined space that didn't feel the fire of hell behind it. His hands were tied behind him and he was sitting on a very uncomfortable steel chair directly in the middle of the small room. There was a puddle of blood that kept growing underneath his bound wrists from his previous struggles. There was more blood but that remained on Crowley himself, dripping from his cut lips, his broken nose and several open cuts on his forehead and cheeks. He had been beaten and bruised in a span of a few hours.
And the catalyst for his poor state was sitting across from him in a similar chair, completely clean of any after effects because of the black handkerchief he kept using to clean himself free of Crowley's blood when it splattered in his direction. This room had a single light above them, focused on the two of them, giving off more emphasis to Crowley's current state and Dean's. He sighed very loudly when Crowley came to, as if it was all exasperating. So many times he had passed out, and for once, he wished Dean would let him sleep.
But this time waking up was a little different. There was something pressed deep into his temples like steel padding that felt cold. There was a slightly numb feeling in several places at the back of his head. Like someone had spent a lot of time pressing ice to his skin. There was a strange contraption sitting next to Dean that looked like an old radio.
Dean adjusted his leather jacket over himself more easily, and leaned forward when he saw that Crowley had awakened.
"Know what this is, Crowley?" Dean asked after a long moment, pressing a hand to the black contraption.
"No," said Crowley honestly. He sniffed loudly and found that caused more pain. It wasn't even easy to breathe properly in this place.
"This is a machine I've developed. It's called Extract," said Dean. "Lame name, I know, but hear me out. I've managed to charge it with some of my power. With the right buttons, it should be able to sift through the blocks in your mind for the information I'm looking for."
"You could just ask me nicely," Crowley grinned, knowing he was showing off two perfect rows of bloodstained teeth.
"I could, but you're a stubborn demon," said Dean conversationally. "And we both know what I want, you wouldn't willingly give. The irony of it is, I'm trying to help you, Crowley. Why won't you let me help you?"
"I'm getting mixed signals,"
Dean smiled back at him. "Keep mouthing off, Crowley. You'll be dead before the deadline I laid out for Dante. After all. He only has forty-eight hours to show his face before I start laying out the law."
Crowley chuckled. That just hurt his lungs a lot. Dean had punched him several times there. He wheezed in the act. "You honestly...Heh...Think that matters to him? You think he cares about the humans in your cities? You think he'll show his face because he wants to rescue them?"
"I'm not razing the human cities because I think Dante wants to play hero, Crowley," Dean explained. "He's no hero. He's an asshole. So am I. There's no heroes here. Everyone's morally jaded. Even the pure ones. I decided to put the city threat on the line because I may as well have a little fun if he decides to be cowardly. Besides, he can't hide long if there's nowhere to hide, you know what I mean?"
"It takes an asshole to know an asshole, I'm guessing," said Crowley. "So what's the aim in drawing him out and killing him, Your Majesty? What makes you think he won't lose?"
"...You've spent quite a number of hours here, my old friend," said Dean, seeming to lose interest in Crowley's question. "There are memories that I was able to extract quite easily. People tend to dwell on certain thoughts, certain..memories that come to mind more often when the mind is stressed. And your mind is by no means, at peace right now."
"...What are you saying?" Crowley asked warily.
Dean steepled his fingers together. "What do you think, Crowley? I know he's not well. He's certainly dying right now. It was my mark, wasn't it? My attack in Chicago rendered him weak. My demon, Chimera confirmed his condition. Dante is no where near his peak anymore. He'll very easily die."
"If you know that's the case, what makes you think he'll get up to find you? Taunt him all you want, Dean. He's not coming here," said Crowley.
"Your maker is elusive, Crowley. I will give him that," said Dean. "You're right. I don't expect him to come to me because of my threats against humanity. That would be absurd. What could inspire a Fallen to abstain from everything he has known as a Fallen to come here and accept my challenge? It smells like a trap. I'm sure he thinks so too."
"He's not wrong," said Crowley. Crowley rolled his head to the right side and felt his neck crick in pain. But still, he kept his eyes locked on Dean's. "Listen, Your Majesty...What information are you hoping to unlock from my mind? You have the ability to extract memories. Anything you want to know...I'm sure you know already. There is nothing to hide here. You can release me. Dante will not be coming for me either, I can assure you."
"You very much underestimate your value, Crowley," said Dean. "You know I've made a demon before."
Crowley looked up so the light was reflected on his burn scars. "Yes, I remember."
Dean smiled unpleasantly. "And while I didn't spend enough time with mine...I know the attachment between a maker and it's demon runs high. Especially for a pure bred demon and the Fallen maker. You and I are alike in that aspect...We're both demons bred from a Fallen. So, you see...I know Dante values you. He values you very much. The only reason he hasn't stormed in here, demanding you, is because his injury prevents him so...but from what I've read of your memories...it's because...ah...Balthazar...is with him."
Crowley pursed his lips. "You're wrong. He's said over and over that I mean nothing to him. Nothing at all. And there's nothing I know that he doesn't know. You can see it all."
"Flattering. That you think that," said Dean, raising an eyebrow. "But not quite true. There is a psychic block in your mind, Crowley. It's singled out and large. A demon shares all the memories of its maker, you know. I used a block for Carmen to prevent her from being overwhelmed by my own memories. Dante has placed one inside of you as well. Like it or not, Crowley. There is something he does not wish for you to acknowledge. That, is what I'm interested in."
"Maybe it's how much he hates you. Maybe he thinks I'll get tired of all the folk songs he's invented about his repulsion for you. It seems plausible to me," said Crowley in a bored voice.
"Or he's hiding something very important," said Dean.
"Why are you asking me? Aren't you Memory? Don't you have all the memories Dominion had? Trust me, there's not much more that Dante knows that you don't. Except that you suck and you haven't accepted it yet," Crowley answered shrewdly.
"I have Dominion's Memory," said Dean, ignoring the insult. "But there are certain things that Dominion possibly did not deign to pass onto me. I need to know that...for example... Dominion would never give me the knowledge of how to extract the other fragments."
There was a pause as Crowley let that settle into his mind fully. Crowley's eye twitched. "That's it, then. So you do wish to become Dominion. My, Dean. From defying everything your Father stood for, you sure are becoming just as power-hungry as he was."
"Fragments aren't meant to exist, Crowley. There's only meant to be one. And who else could it be but me?" Dean pointed to himself. "I mean come on, it's all about me, after all. I was Michael's son, became Lucifer's, became King...rose from the deepest depths of Hell and raised an army unmatched by anyone, including Heaven. Why not me? If anyone is worthy of becoming Dominion, it's me."
"I think I liked you better when you had a shred of humanity left," Crowley noted. "At least you were somewhat tolerable."
Dean scoffed. "It's a good thing your input really doesn't matter."
"I'm a subject of your kingdom, Your Majesty," said Crowley. "You may be using me for torture, but I was loyal to the crown. I'm not asking for your sympathy, but perhaps you should take stock in my input. I was a physician before I was turned into demon. I may not know much about the corruption of darkness but you...I can see the effects on your face. If you continue on your path, it's going to kill you. Again."
"NOT IF YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW!" Dean bellowed, lunging forward and grabbing Crowley's head, pressing his thumbs hard into Crowley's temples. His voice became deceptively gentle. "It's here. He knows...I know he knows...He would not have tried to make my life misery in Treachery...sworn vengeance if he didn't know. He knows how to extract the fragments. There has to be something. A ritual...a curse...A spell...it exists. I know he knows it."
Crowley leaned back a few inches at Dean's sudden movement. The touch was steaming hot. It almost seemed to burn him, even when they should have been matching in temperature."Tell me something..Your dear Castiel is a fragment..as well, you know. What does he think about you becoming Dominion? What, then? Let's say the knowledge exists. That there's a spell, or curse...or whatever, out there that allows you to extract the fragments. Say it exists. Say the price is killing them. Killing the other two. Are you willing to go that far? Have you fallen that much, Your Majesty?"
Dean scoffed at him. Not a single emotion outside of mockery seemed to touch Dean as he leaned back himself and sat back down fully in his seat. "Sacrifices are made to achieve the greater goal. It's happened time and time again."
"I know you don't care about Dante. But Castiel? I'm not blind, Your Majesty. I was there when he came into my office and requested permission to enter the second circle. He didn't even hesitate. Whatever the cost was to save you...He was willing to take it. You speak of the bond between Dante and I. There's nothing like the bond between two people who love each other."
Dean locked eyes with Crowley. "Who says I love Castiel?"
Crowley opened his mouth and closed it. "It's...It's obvious."
"For him," Dean amended. "What use would I get loving an angel, or a Fallen for that matter? I've certainly not had any good experience with any of them. Besides, love is weakness."
Crowley raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was serious or if this was an act. And yet there was no apology in Dean's eyes. "Even if you didn't...You'd kill someone loves you the way he loves you. You'd do that."
"Castiel is my Guardian, Crowley. Just like you were. The most inconvenience I would face is finding another one," said Dean in a bored voice. "And at this point, it wouldn't be so difficult to find people loyal to the crown."
"You're lying," Crowley tilted his head. "You're lying to yourself. You're pretending not to care or you're suppressing it. You allowed him to live this far. If you really didn't care at all-"
"I would have killed him much sooner?" Dean finished for him. "You're probably right. I would have. But you see, I don't know if killing Dante or him directly will release the fragments. It could just kill them. Who knows. May as well extract and kill. Keep it simple."
Crowley continued to stare at him in disbelief. "You're heartless, Dean. I never realized that could happen, even to you. You were always a crude bastard. Quite literally. You killed. Your heart was far from pure, despite who your Father, Michael, was. But even I can vouch that you have changed. Those veins on your face are a result of the darkness manifesting from your heart. It will consume you. And whether you become Dominion or not, keep treading that path, and you won't last long. Trust me. Darkness is easy, it's easy to delve in...but it will take you over. And it's showing more and more on you."
"Is this the part where you appeal to what little humanity that you believe I still have left? I was always a selfish prick, Crowley. I'm just more open to the possibility of what I'm capable now," said Dean.
"Even Castiel," Crowley shook his head, the little he could.
"Talk of love is highly amusing from Dante's demon," Dean noted. "Loveless Fallen don't hold any sway with me."
"He wasn't always like the Dante you know now. He was different," Crowley justified, raising his chin. "He could love. He did love."
"Did. Could. Doesn't now. He's just as bad as me," said Dean, shrugging. "There are no heroes, like I said. Everyone's got a dark, twisted path. Makes it hard, doesn't it? To actually choose a side in all this. But the truth of it all is this, Crowley. There are no sides. There's your own side and whoever's willing to stand by you. The big problem with Castiel...You know...is that he's doubting me. I've known him well enough these past years. I know his mind and I know his doubts. He's afraid of what I'm capable of that. That kind of doubt...? Is not something I require to win this war."
"Your actions are cruel and distasteful. You're out of your mind," Crowley answered.
The words reminded him of Castiel's words before. Cruelty without rational thought is not far from insanity.
It made Dean scowl. Stupid worthless demon had no idea what he was speaking on.
"If my actions seem so insane, to you, perhaps you can do your best to be rid of my presence, by cooperating. This Extract machine is unique, Crowley. It extracts your memories, yes. But consider how painful that is, especially, if you have a psychic block against me. I'm going to remove that block now. And trust me when I say...It will not be painless," said Dean, getting up and moving his seat closer to Crowley, close enough that it slid just slightly on the puddle of blood on the ground.
"I'm not counting on walking away form this unscathed, Your Majesty," Crowley retorted.
"Good for me, then," said Dean, reaching over. His touch was soft as he laid his fingertips down and pressed them against Crowley's temples. It was still heated. But it was only when Dean closed his eyes in concentration, that Crowley really felt something intrusive invade.
Every memory that Dean was sifting through, Crowley saw as well. Things that he didn't even know he had anymore. He saw his wife and son, young as he was before the turn in broken images, scattered all about. He saw the chronologically next stream of memories that came in rapid succession. He saw himself as the doctor, seeing Dante enter his hospital as a patient, the wings he saw that no one else seemed to be able to see. He saw Dante's face as it leered at him, a gun pressed to his heart just before his own demise from the human life he had known and his entrance to the demon one.
The next images were many. His time as a demon far extended his lifespan as a human, the longer he spent in Hell, and he did spend much time there, after all.
He saw Dante's face many times over. After all, it wasn't just his own fall into darkness he was seeing, but Dante's as well. Yet this was his mentor, his instructor. Love was the first emotion a demon felt when awakening and over the years, he saw his own demonstrated loyalty to his maker.
He remembered that fateful night, when Dominion finally fragmented into him. He was not present to see it happen, only to see it's aftereffects. The broken form of Dante as he dragged himself before the throne.
It was Dean he was facing then. These memories he knew he shared with Dean himself, but his vision of what happened was further away, hidden behind a pillar where Dante had forced him to stay. In case it ended badly, he had said...One of them should be safe. It was not unlike Dante to show care in critical moments, but it was rare nonetheless. And Crowley knew to take the moment seriously. If something happened, he would know what to do, even without Dante there to guide him.
He watched Dante beg. Couldn't quite hear the words, as they came through in distorted sounds as though run through a tape recorder backwards on rapid rewind. The Fallen was begging for mercy, for something from Dean who looked upon him stoically. And then he saw the fateful moment when Dean rose off the throne, drew out his sword and stood before the kneeling form of Dante. For a depiction, it simply looked like Dean was knighting him, but the opposite was true in Hell. There was no knighting. He was banishing him to the ninth circle.
Dante seemed to obliterate, exploding into pieces of black like crows had manifested from him until he became nothing more.
And then there was nothing. Dean stopped. There was that block he was speaking of. The knowledge that Crowley should have shared openly with Dante but could not. They hit a dark place where random dark shapes seemed to surface in Crowley's vision. Dean's grip on his head became painful, to the point where he felt like his fingernails were cutting into his skin. He felt himself outside physical enough that he buckled in his seat. But Dean's grip was hard and tight.
"Look at me...This isn't going to be pretty. Brace yourself," Dean hissed, right in his face.
"Dean...Dean...," Crowley murmured between his labored breaths. "Please. Please. Don't-"
But Dean didn't require any further prompting. His fingers dug in further,and this time he seemed to cut through flesh, blood sliding down the sides of Crowley's face in a gush.
And he saw Dean no more. He was taken elsewhere. The room was completely white with no end in sight. Crowley looked around himself. There was nothing there. Behind him, In front...To the sides...
Then something twinkled and glowed in front of him, manifesting into the shape of a young boy with torn blue jean shorts and a red and yellow striped shirt. He looked very preoccupied with poking a snail in a tiny patch of grass that had come with the image of the boy.
The boy looked up at him with sharp green eyes and a freckled face. He couldn't be older than five.
"Dean?" Crowley asked, kneeling next to him. He realized he was a stark contrast. His injuries from Dean's torture had not manifested here. He was in perfect health, but still. A black trenchcoated individual with a child. Crowley looked like the looming dark presence in a place of serenity.
"Hi," said Dean shyly, standing upright and bouncing his weight from one foot to the other.
"Hi. What are you doing here?" Crowley asked, looking around. "By yourself?"
"It's lonely here," said Dean.
"It is," Crowley agreed.
Dean closed his eyes very slowly as if he was tired. When next he opened them, everything seemed to paint around them as though it was being thought up on a blank canvas. Dean's tiny patch of grass morphed into a small sandbox. This was the only evidence that this was a child's part. The park itself was dark, cold wind blowing through a thunder storm. Broken swings. A halved seesaw, the benches toppled over, and the silhouette of a mountain in the distance where the storm was more prominent, where lightning crackled.
"Lately the storm clouds are coming closer," said the young Dean.
Crowley looked down at him. "You're brave for staying this long in the sun, Dean."
"It's going away," said Dean and he looked directly above them where a swirl of clouds remained slightly parted only for them, the only source of true light shining down from the sea of darkness.
"Not as long you don't give up," said Crowley gently, pressing a hand to Dean's shoulder. "Don't give up, Dean. Don't leave this place."
"It's hard," Dean complained in his tiny tones. His eyes began to fill. "It's hard. It's hard."
"I know, Dean," Crowley ran his hand over Dean's short strands of hair. "But you're strong. Didn't your Daddy ever tell you you need to be strong?"
"I don't know how," The boy began to cry.
Crowley wrapped his arms around Dean and hugged him tight. "It's all right, Dean. It's going to be all right...I don't...I don't think I have a lot of time here. But I want you to remember what I said. Stay here. Stay strong...All right?"
As Crowley pulled away to look at him fully, the face of the boy began to fade, and the scene exploded around him in a swirl of dark color. He was expelled, and not very gently out of this illusion until he felt the draft of the room again, where pain exploded all of his senses where he had been hurt in reality.
Crowley panted in front of Dean, struggling unconsciously against the binds that kept him to the chair while he breathed hard and stared at his own lap, dripping with blood that was coming from his lips from how hard his teeth had come down on his own tongue.
Dean, was a stark contrast to him, leaned back to the place where he had been before, a foot away. He was sitting cross-legged, completely relaxed. As Crowley looked at him, he couldn't help but detect that Dean's face looked even darker than before. Those stark black veins had deepened into his flesh, becoming more dark, branching out even smaller veins down his cheeks. It seemed like only the top part of his face was safe yet.
He casually pulled sunglasses out of his inner jacket pocket and proceeded to wipe the lenses off. Crowley stared at him square in the face. Dean's green eyes melted into pure black, reflecting pools of almost complete darkness which he blinked away the next second.
"Not a good cosmetic development, I can tell you," Dean muttered to him as he placed the sunglasses over his eyes and smiled at Crowley.
"You...You...," Crowley tried to say, but he couldn't work the words to come out. His heart was pounding in his chest, his lungs working overdrive to return normalcy to his body.
"Easy, Crowley," said Dean. He seemed completely oblivious to the vision they both shared. And Crowley knew why. He knew what was inside Dean. "You're going to die soon. It'll all be over. But at least you proved somewhat useful before your demise...You have told me the spell that I'm looking for. That's all I needed to know."
Crowley blinked slow. "I'm...glad."
"Good," said Dean. He stood up then and turned from him. "Castiel! Guard Crowley. I have things to do."
He pulled from the room completely, but Crowley could still catch their voices and he heard Castiel and Dean speaking through the wall.
"Watch him. When he finally dies. Destroy his body. His death should send a message to the Shadowalker. Which is just what we need,"
"He's dying?" Castiel asked. He didn't sound very upset about it. Which Crowley wasn't surprised for. They were never the best of friends.
"Good timing too, on that. Watch him. Make sure he does. If you want, feel free to take him out of his misery. He's hardly coherent in there," Dean was saying.
There was no verbal response. Dean must have left Castiel standing there after giving the order. He could imagine that face though. Crowley almost see that scowl building and the slight shock that he was given an order to dispose of a demon. Sounded like waste duty.
Castiel entered, and his expression was clear of that possible scowl. He closed the door behind him with a loud bang. Something sparkled slightly when Castiel passed him on his way further inside and Crowley squinted at the crucifix hanging from his neck.
Dean had been wrong. Crowley found he could still speak, and form coherent thoughts, albeit in a much slower manner. Having your mind probed by a nasty demon wasn't an experience that Crowley wanted to repeat. But he held fast onto his sanity. Dean had extracted what he wanted from the block in Crowley's mind and Crowley almost felt nothing to it. It must have been back up, because he didn't feel or acknowledge any new memories.
"Why do you wear that?" Crowley asked, continuing to eyeball the cross around Castiel's neck. His voice sounded like he had been chewing on cotton all day.
"What?" Castiel asked, glancing down. "It's a symbol."
"Of a Messiah you no longer believe in," said Crowley, rolling his head back so he could stare at Castiel more prominently.
"This symbol doesn't just symbolize Christ. It symbolizes sacrifice," said Castiel. "It was his sacrifice that humanity was forgiven of their past transgression."
"You must admire a martyr like that," said Crowley.
"I don't know what you mean by that," said Castiel, leaning against the closed door and crossing his arms, watching him. He took in stock Crowley's mangled appearance. It wasn't the state of blood all over him, that was surely his own...it was his face itself. It had paled considerably, green veins looking like they were puckering from his temples. He didn't know what the contraption was that Dean had used him and he didn't know what it was for. He had half a mind to remove the wires that were still connecting Crowley to it.
Surely Dean had gotten what he wanted out of him.
Crowley heard marching nearby. Steps walking in complete synchronization. It was a strange sound to hear in Hell, where the realm literally should have resembled disarray. And he was hearing marching.
"What's going on...What's he doing?" Crowley asked in a half-interested voice.
Castiel seemed reluctant to respond. His jaw locked. "He's gathering the army."
"For what, an attack?" Crowley chuckled. "Here I thought we had some leeway for at least two more days."
"When has he followed rules," Castiel murmured, more to himself.
But Crowley caught it. "Never. You're right. Not even his own. I do wonder what inspires you to follow such a creature."
Castiel looked directly at him, locking eyes. "It's my choice."
"You tell yourself that, Castiel. I'm sure it succeeds in making you feel better," said Crowley.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Castiel countered.
"It means...You're not here at your own free will. There is no free will. You're here...because you have to be. You honestly think he'd let you leave? Now?" Crowley asked.
"I appreciate your belief in Dean's attachment-"
"It's not an attachment, Castiel. It's an obsession. And not really with just you. Why do you think he spent a few hours torturing me? For fun? Why do you think he made this ultimatum? Do you honestly believe he wants to kill Dante because he wants revenge? Take into stock that Dante didn't actually hurt your boyfriend in any way,"
"He turned him mortal, what are you talking about?" Castiel snapped. "He killed Gabriel. He killed Lucifer. These were people important to Dean."
"Because they stood in his way, not to hurt Dean. Gabriel didn't want to open the gate to Treachery, so Dante killed him. He killed Lucifer because...come on...seriously, do you have to ask why? Who wouldn't step into line to kill him? As for the turning Dean mortal? I'm fairly confident that you enjoyed that time, didn't you? As short as it was," said Crowley, tilting his head. His neck ached from the movement but he attempted it anyway. "No harm, no foul. You could say he did him a favor...You know who the real enemy here is, don't you? It's not us."
"Who do you think is the real enemy then, Crowley?" Castiel asked, gripping himself tighter. He looked like he was only pretending to be interested but he seemed a little more tense.
"Dante didn't kill Carmen, Castiel. Heaven did. I made a deal with them...or...a pretend deal. I knew what they were after, but we had to be sure. Metatron killed Carmen. If there has to be a war, it has to be with the side that we were born to destroy. Heaven. You know it, I know it."
"Typical, Crowley. A demon blaming someone else for their own problems to save themselves. That's just like you," said Castiel angrily. "Heaven is a realm that cannot be tread by a tainted spirit. Demons would perish on contact. There is no use in waging war against them."
"Why not? Your King's made a mess. It's only a matter of time before Heaven sends an angel to purge the land of the taint. And when that day comes, Castiel, you're going to be hearing me say I told you so."
"Am I," said Castiel flatly.
"You are," said Crowley. "You know you can stop this, Castiel. He wanted something from me. Do you know what that knowledge he wanted so desperately from my mind?"
"What's that?" Castiel asked.
"The knowledge to extract a fragment of Dominion from the vessels. And what are you, Castiel? You're a fragment. He wants to kill you, Castiel. He wants to take the fragments that Dante and you hold and become Dominion. That's the goal. That's always been the goal."
Castiel was as still as a statue. When he finally moved, it was a simple blink, his mouth barely moving as he spoke. "You're lying."
"And you know what really baffles me, Castiel? You can stop him. You think one fragment is stronger than the other? You think Dante and Dean are stronger than you or each other? No. You're all at equal power. The only reason that demon stands King and proud enough to call out Dante is because he's borrowing power from the activation sites he created on Earth. You can disperse of them and level him down to what he's supposed to be,"
"It's not true," said Castiel. "He wouldn't do that."
"Or he would, because it makes sense, doesn't it? You don't believe me, Castiel. Put him to the test. I saw a single tiny thread left of his humanity when he took my memory out of me...and I saw the human inside, barely alive, barely able to stand...I saw it...so if you want to get through to him, it's on your choice...but I have something else for you. There's life left in me to give you something to see for yourself. He put me on this machine he made...purposely created to extract memories from an individual. Let me show you...that what you believe in is a lie."
Castiel was going to open his mouth in a question but Crowley silenced him the next second. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He blinked tightly as if holding in some type of internal pain.
"What are you-"
Castiel broke off when the room filled with an emerald glow and a glowing form of Dean took the place of the empty seat in front of Crowley. A recent memory...perhaps moments ago.
"I know you don't care about Dante. But Castiel? I'm not blind, Your Majesty. I was there when he came into my office and requested permission to enter the second circle. He didn't even hesitate. Whatever the cost was to save you...He was willing to take it. You speak of the bond between Dante and I. There's nothing like the bond between two people who love each other."
"Who says I love Castiel?"
"It's...It's obvious."
"For him. What use would I get loving an angel, or a Fallen for that matter? I've certainly not had any good experience with any of them. Besides, love is weakness."
"...Even if you didn't...You'd kill someone loves you the way he loves you. You'd do that."
"Castiel is my Guardian, Crowley. Just like you were. The most inconvenience I would face is finding another one...And at this point, it wouldn't be so difficult to find people loyal to the crown."
"You're lying. You're lying to yourself. You're pretending not to care or you're suppressing it. You allowed him to live this far. If you really didn't care at all-"
"I would have killed him much sooner? You're probably right. I would have. But you see, I don't know if killing Dante or him directly will release the fragments. It could just kill them. Who knows. May as well extract and kill... Keep it simple."
The memory stopped and the room was left silent once more save for the rapid panting that came from Crowley. Castiel was left staring at the scene, staring at the seat where he saw the memory of Dean speaking. His face had paled, more so than usual, and his grip on himself had put tears in the fabric of his jacket. He seemed to be working on keeping his composure, if he had any of that left.
"It's not true...," He whispered at last.
Crowley chuckled, and the sound came out pained. "Come on, Castiel. Even you don't have to be so blind. I can't fabricate a memory...He can. I can't."
Castiel remained still for a long moment, then he finally uncrossed his arms and let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "...This changes things."
"I'm sorry," said Crowley. "And I mean that...I do."
Castiel wasn't focused on Crowley's false sympathies. He wished he hadn't seen what he had seen...He actually would have preferred to live in blissful ignorance. Then again, that would probably have gotten him killed.
Still, he didn't want to accept that Dean's game plan...that it had been all along had been his demise.
He loved Dean, he had for quite some time. And while his own life was made for sacrifice as Dean so nicely put it, he didn't want to die so Dean could fully embrace something he was not.
Dean was not Dominion. And he shouldn't be.
Castiel covered his mouth with his hand, flat and thoughtful. The frown on his brow was very apparent. He didn't bother to hide his emotion, despite the fact that he was created with the notion of suppressing all of it, of shielding himself from it. It was a product of being with Dean...someone like him... that made rare moments like this occur.
"I know you're upset, Castiel," said Crowley, and he glanced at the expression on Castiel's face. " More than upset...but we have to focus. We have to find a way out of here. We're dead if we stay."
"It doesn't matter," said Castiel, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "None of it matters anymore."
Crowley growled. "Look, hero. I know this is the point where you give up...but we don't have time for that now. Now that you know the true agenda, it's time to act. You have to strike before he does."
"And do what? Take his fragments? May as well do what he wants to do, then," Castiel snapped impatiently.
"No...Run. We need to find Dante. Dante will know what to do," said Crowley. "No offense, but he's got the most experience out of all of you. He'll know what to do."
Castiel shook his head and again, pinched his nose, walking to the wall where he stared at the blank stretch of wall in front of him. "I don't know what to do anymore. I'm tired. I'm so tired of this. In my head, it's easy to justify Dean and what he's done. It's easy to take his words at face value...but in my heart, I know I've been lying to myself. I've let countless people die and to think if I stay, there would be more. I wouldn't have even lifted a finger to stop him."
"Castiel..," Crowley murmured, his face softening.
Castiel covered his face with his hands and for a moment, Crowley thought he had finally broke down and begun to cry, but when Castiel looked up a minute later, his face was relatively dry of any tears. It was just stress.
He wordlessly ran a hand over the bindings on Crowley and immediately they thinned and became loose until he could slip his hand from them and bring them forward. The wounds remained which Castiel eyed rather stoically. He hovered a hand over the minor cuts as well, and while Crowley did begin to feel them close, he raised a hand to catch Castiel's wrist.
"Save your strength. You're going to need it. I can heal myself," said Crowley, releasing him.
"What are we going to do? We can't leave without him knowing. He knows this circle of Hell as well as Dante knew Treachery," said Castiel.
"We're not going to run like little rats. We're going out the front door...if where I'm thinking of can be considered the front door. We need to go through a dimensional door," said Crowley.
"There are thousands of portals in the sky, exiting this realm since Dean released the demons here," said Castiel. "Why not use one of those?"
"Because I have a better idea," said Crowley, standing up and pulling the steel clamps that were around his head that had given Dean easier access. "It's dangerous here, Castiel. I don't know what information in it's exact form Dean has from me now. But it's very obvious he has it. No one's in more danger than you. I'm sure he's all too eager to use whatever he has now and see if it works...You just so happen to a perfect catalyst."
Castiel made a face, trying very hard not to betray the overwhelming emotion he so very clearly had inside of him. "...I hope you have a decent escape plan, then."
"Let's start slow. We're going to my room," said Crowley, reaching up to a take a handful of his jacket and wiping the excess blood off his wrist, his face and his neck. He looked marginally better, but still like he had been mentally beaten to a pulp. He headed for the door and very slowly began to peek outside. There were still sounds of demons marching from the throne room. So that meant that almost all the demons in the first circle were gathering.
"Is he really about to attack the mortal plane?" Crowley asked.
"I don't know," said Castiel behind him. "He doesn't tell me."
Crowley looked back at him. "Sounds like a very unbalanced relationship."
"It was never a relationship," said Castiel coldly. "Obviously."
Crowley ignored him for the moment, stepping outside fully and keeping his eyes on both ends of the hallway. No one seemed to be coming, but he couldn't be sure with the sounds coming from the throne room. He gestured towards Castiel to follow him, but quickly and quietly. The Fallen approached the doorway and came close, staying on his heels and Crowley led him further down the hall.
He reached a blank stretch of wall that was right next to the King's bedroom. No way he was going in there.
"Isn't that playing it too close?" Castiel whispered.
"Maybe," said Crowley. "But I never slept in the same bed as Dean did, even when I was King. Gross. Germs."
Castiel rolled his eyes and watched as Crowley began to trace the outline of what would be a door on the blank stretch of wall. When it was made, there was a faint glowing red outline. Crowley knocked on it three times and the "door" became transparent, revealing a new room inside.
"After you," said Crowley, gesturing towards it.
Castiel cast him a look before he stepped through. What he expected to find was a shabby bedroom hidden away. He didn't expect to find what looked like a mini-library. Except what was on the shelves were not books. It was various tomes and scrolls written in different shades of glowing ink. Spells. Curses. The works. It was strange to find it here...and how it had remained hidden for this long. Dean with his superior senses should have been able to sense this much magic just laying in wait for him. There were a few windows all curtained with dusty black drapes.
"There's a ward spell on this room," said Crowley, as if detecting the direction of Castiel's thoughts. "I took my precautions."
"You slept here?" Castiel asked, seeing no bed.
"Slept on the floor, yes," said Crowley, stepping in after him and waving a lazy hand towards the transparent entrance which became solid again, tombing them inside.
"Not very hygenic for a king, Crowley," said Castiel, stepping further inside and approaching a bookcase full of tomes written in glowing red ink. "You seem to have every spell known here."
"Hardly," said Crowley modestly. "This is just a collection. Most of these spells I don't know myself."
"How does that make sense? " Castiel countered. "Scrolls and tomes require a mere touch by a Will user in order to learn the spell."
"Magic is dangerous, Castiel. It's a dangerous practice, despite the fact that we use it in our battles every day. The power to use your own will to live to control the elements...It's not an easy path to take. That's why I take the precaution of using gloves."
Castiel refrained himself from rolling his eyes this time. "So why have you brought me here? Are we hiding?"
"Most of these spells are minor. Ward spells to protect against even the strongest use of Will. Very useful...But some of these call upon the dark arts. As I said, however, I'm a collector," said Crowley, placing a hand on his chest as though he was rather proud of himself. "So there are other spells here as well...Ones that would surely prove to be of use even against let's say an arrogant king juiced on the power of his twisted ritual topside."
Castiel looked at him square in the eyes then. "I know what you're saying."
"You don't have a cho-"
"I'm not hurting Dean," said Castiel firmly.
"You don't have a choice!" Crowley spewed in one breath. "He's going to kill you if you don't. You may as well take care of him before he takes care of you."
"I'm. Not. Hurting. Dean," said Castiel. "I don't care for your opinion."
"You don't kill him first, he's going to kill you. And guess what, Castiel? Game over. He'll have Law, Memory, Retribution and Compassion. He'll be unstoppable. It's not just Dante he'll destroy. You feel bad, don't you? You just said it, you let those people die. Try the whole planet. Try every life in the world. Try all of them...all because you couldn't kill your boyfriend."
For a moment, Castiel stood there and let his imagination take him to where Crowley wanted it to go. He saw the barren world, the lifeless bodies burying themselves deeper into the earth underneath a crimson sky. Buildings were toppled and ruined. No city was discernible, because they were gone. He saw the fire that burned Chicago, the power that razed Manhattan. It was all-consuming.
Ever since Castiel was fledgling, he was taught about the Earth and it's importance. It was strange that even as a Fallen, he felt a strange sense of despair at knowing this planet could succumb to death. What was the point in doing such a thing? To destroy the world and have it end with nothing? What was the gain there?
But Dean wouldn't stop with Earth if he became Dominion. He'd go after Heaven. To justify Carmen's death, he would seek revenge where it happened. He wasn't a fool. As Crowley had put it, Heaven was the one who destroyed Carmen. Dean would seek them out on some misguided attempt for revenge and end up killed himself.
And yet..
"I'm not going to hurt Dean," said Castiel, barely a whisper now.
Crowley nodded as if that was the answer he was expecting. "You love him."
Castiel gave a half-hearted shrug. "Love is pain. No one said it would be easy. I never had an instruction manual on it. It just happened...One day, my focus was him, and it consumed me. It still does. I can't stand the idea of him hurt...even now. I want him safe...even if he doesn't want me...safe."
Too long of a pause for that last word. Crowley just stared at him. "You're really not a good Fallen, you know that, Castiel?"
"It was corruption that made me fall," said Castiel, running his hand over the wood underneath the stack of scrolls and tomes, but not touching any of them physically. "Your Maker. Dante. He deceived me. Used me. I should blame him, but in the end, I did get what I want. I did get Dean. No one can argue that. I never specified I wanted him back in the same condition I had him in."
Crowley stared at the back of Castiel's head for a long moment, then he disappeared, walking through his bookshelves and rustling around like he was looking for something particular.
"Ah, there it is," Crowley muttered to himself. There was a strange clicking noise then Crowley reappeared, wearing gloves and presenting Castiel with a scroll that had distinct, golden colored ink inside of it.
"What's this?"
"What you need," said Crowley. "You're going to have to trust me on this, Castiel."
"You don't have the best track record," Castiel pointed out.
"Neither do you," Crowley bit back. "But this is yours...You could say it was made for you. It's not something I can use. But you'll find better use of this."
Castiel didn't dare touch it. His eyebrow furrowed in suspicion. "...Is this what I think it is?"
"Let's just say...this is going to even the odds a little bit in your favor,"
Everything was so perfect.
Dean stood before a grand army. Never had so many demons stood in the palace before. Lucifer would never allow it and neither would Crowley. But they lined up in front of him in rank, the hooded demons known famously known as the Order of Tarana. It would be so easy to assemble them and attack the mortal plane and wipe it clean within a matter of hours.
And it would be justified.
He stood in front of them, crossed his arms and simply looked. Dante could never create an army this large. His shadowcrawler were mindless shadows that would pale in comparison to the demons that Dean had created, as though with his own hand.
With the knowledge he now had to extract the fragments from the other vessels. He would be invincible. Nothing could stop him. No power in Earth, Heaven or Hell stood a single chance against him.
Dean didn't hear Castiel's approach as the Fallen stood by his side.
"Is everything ready?" Castiel asked.
"Very soon," said Dean, reaching up to scratch his neck. He was doing that more frequently now, as if those new veins and protrusions were hurting him somehow. "It'll only be a matter of time, angel. I don't expect Dante to give into my challenge. My experience thus far with him knows that he is a coward."
"So you're taking the challenge to him," said Castiel mildly.
"That's the plan," said Dean without looking at him. "Did Crowley finally croak?"
"He's dead," Castiel confirmed. "No doubt Dante's felt it."
"Good," Dean was pleased. "About time, don't you think? He was a nuisance. No one can rule a throne like someone pure bred from the bloodline that created it."
"I agree," said Castiel. He stepped away from the throne, towards the army that Dean had assembled. Lost, vacant expressions looked back at him, looking past him...dead. This wasn't an army. This was a disaster in the making. These demons were cannon fodder.
"I've been meaning to talk to you, angel," said Dean to Castiel's back.
"Oh?"
"Yes," said Dean, taking a step towards him. His voice sounded strangely morose. "I know I've upset you since Chicago. I know you've been a little...shaken by the whole thing...and I've done very little to quell your concerns. For that, I'm sorry."
Castiel's eyebrows furrowed, but he still didn't turn Dean's way. Not yet.
"You have to understand why I'm doing this. Dante is a threat, angel. As long as he's alive. We'll never be able to live in peace. You and I. I just want...you to be safe, you understand that right? I would never...I would never let anything...or anyone hurt you."
Castiel's lip twitched and he turned his head in Dean's direction. "Thank you for saying that."
"I mean every word," Dean promised.
"I'm glad," said Castiel, taking another step forward, away from Dean.
"I really care for you, Castiel," said Dean.
"You know something, Dean. When we were in Chicago...and I witnessed the death of that city. I was scared of you. I can even admit that. If I looked back on it recently, I could say I was scared just of you. But now that I think about it...I'm not scared of you. You don't frighten me. I'm scared for you. I don't know what darkness has taken root inside of you, it's just going to keep growing," said Castiel slowly. "It's not something I ever thought I would see. To see a human soul, a demon, slowly become what he hates the most."
"Who says I hate what I am?" Dean scoffed.
"I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself," said Castiel quietly.
"Of course I am," said Dean as if stating the obvious. He approached the throne and lowered himself on it. "What's to dislike about this life, Castiel? I have a throne. You and I have a big castle all to ourselves. And it's all about expanding territory. We'll just get more from here. Lay our claim to the land."
"What right do we have to do that?" Castiel asked.
"What right don't we have?" Dean snapped. "We're better, Castiel. Special, perfect...whatever little adjective you want. We're that. We deserve what we can. We deserve...so much more."
Castiel sighed to himself, feeling frustration seem to sting him. He couldn't look at Dean.
"Let me ask you something," said Castiel. "And I want you to answer me honestly. Can you please do that?"
"Of course, angel. Anything you want to know," said Dean, crossing his legs and leaning back in his seat.
Castiel expelled a harsh breath and then slowly turned to face Dean. He looked him square in the eyes. "I saw the contraption in the room before Crowley died. It looked like you were trying to get something out of his head. Can you tell me what it was that you were looking for?"
Dean met his gaze evenly. "You look so scared. It's okay, Castiel. Of course I can tell you anything. I wanted information. Crowley's a traitor you see. There was bound to be some information he had about the Shadowalker's whereabouts. Where he goes when he's hiding...I'm sure he's had a few. He did, after all, spend a long time here before his venture into Treachery."
Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment, but he kept his expression smooth of what he was feeling on the inside. Unexpected heat was forming inside his stomach that made him feel sick. His fingers had curled into his palm, digging into skin, making them bleed. His heart was hammering, but not out of nervousness as he might have thought. It was rage. His own body had reacted unconsciously to Dean's words, so universally offended that he was being lied to.
"It was necessary, angel," said Dean. "I told you. I would never let anything happen to you. I was prepared to ensure that at all costs. I'm sorry, you know? I'm sorry if that demon meant anything to you...I just thought-"
Castiel struggled to keep his calm. "You know...this is one of those rare moments, where you get to be completely honest. So if I ask you...what you took from Crowley...Assume I'm asking a rhetorical question. Assume I already know."
Dean held his eyes for a long moment. And in Dean's eyes, Castiel saw the familiar green he knew well, but there were shadows there clinging underneath the surface, shrouding the man he once knew and loved.
Dean broke away from looking at him first. "...The world is a cruel tempest, angel. Natural selection has existed for too long. It's only common that it exists even in this day and age. I'm Law, angel. My mere word supercedes any written word, any spoken word. I could control the movement of the very heavens if I wanted. That is what makes me valuable, my dear angel, and that is why you are not."
"I'm not valuable?" Castiel repeated.
"I'm sorry. I never wanted it to be like this. You know that," said Dean, pressing his hands together imploringly.
Castiel blinked. Again, he felt the rage settle in, this time merged with the raw feeling of rejection.
"I'm sure," said Castiel. "All this, Dean. For power."
"For doing what I'm meant to do!" Dean shouted, rising to his feet. "I'm embracing my destiny, angel. That's all I want to do. That's all I've been doing."
"That is poor justification, Dean. I don't want to hear it," said Castiel, holding up a hand and backing away from him. "I'm done. We're done. I should have known what I had gotten myself into...but..."
"You're not going anywhere," said Dean in a feral growl, stepping forward in a high stride. But he stopped when something shined in front of him, red and bright. It was near-physical, but not seen until it was attempted to be breached. A magic barrier. "What...What is this?"
"A test, that you failed," said Castiel, remaining calm on the other end. He raised a hand and curled his fingers. Immediately, as if in domino effect, the legion of Dean's demons behind him rose off the ground three feet. Each demon was struck by three bolts of pure red lightning straight through the chest.
Dean's growl of rage remained curled in his chest. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"A spell. You know, demons have more weaknesses then we're aware of," said Castiel. "Holy water hurts...Stigma hurts...but nothing quite purges a demonic infestation better than the light wrought from Heaven."
"CASTIEL," Dean snarled.
"It's pure, you see. It takes faith to remain connected to the legion. What the legion does thereafter is none of your concern. Corruption exists everywhere, even in Heaven," Castiel explained. "Faith. Is what gives an angel his strength."
Castiel dropped his hand and reached for the collars of his jacket and pulled them off. The second he did, a light burst from Castiel's body, blinding Dean from the bright radiation. It took the castle. He could barely register the screeching cries of the demons he had gathered to form rank. His entire army. All cut off by a high-pitched sound that Dean had grown familiar with as the cry of an angel in it's true voice. He covered himself on instinct, falling backwards.
Dean didn't have to physically see it. He knew what was happening. The storm clouds that Castiel had formed for him over the entire planet had completely vanished, revealing the true sky above it, radiating glow from the Heavens. It hadn't done that before Castiel cast the storm spell. He was projecting that as well.
Dean had fallen so far back, he had toppled over the throne and was shielded by it. But when he rose, he saw Castiel...and it was not the Castiel he had been looking at moments ago.
It was the Castiel he had met before. The first time. Castiel's dark clothing was replaced by silver armor covering his chest, the top part of his legs and part of his arms up to the elbows. He had the same plated silver gauntlets on his hands, and the same armor plating was used for his boots. Scant skin remained exposed on Castiel. And from his back underneath a red cape, two wings unfurled, large and white, taking the span of both pillars Dean had on either side of the entrance hall.
This was the way Dean had first encountered him. The proud angel. The Celestial.
The sword he had at his belt that he pulled out was no longer black on the hilt but silver once more as he remembered it long ago. He raised it eye level and saw his reflection across the blade. There was still that faint design, that trace of lightning lining it.
Castiel allowed the light he had created to fade away, slowly seeping back towards himself where it remained shining as an aura around his wings. And still, Castiel never left his eyes from Dean the entire time, measuring his expression, his fallen stance. The entrance hall was completely clear save for Dean and himself. This was an empty realm for the king to rule over.
Dean was struggling to stand up again, using the toppled throne to support his stance as he rose to his feet. Even then, it looked like the spell to invoke Heaven's light had staggered him at least. But it had no other effect. Dean was stronger than other demons after all.
And yet with Castiel's light shedding on him, he could see too clearly, the damage that the darkness had done to him. With the powers of a celestial returned to him, Castiel need only close his eyes to see Dean's true form without invoking his power through Retribution. Dean's soul, like any other human was meant to be made of a pure white light. That was almost completely obscured in the vision that Castiel was seeing through now. It was like globs of shapeless darkness was sloshing inside his entire being.
Crowley reappeared, standing behind Castiel, also under the protection of the barrier that Castiel had placed. His eyes fell on Dean and Castiel standing and facing each other. Crowley looked much better than before. He must have used some type of healing spell on himself from his collection. Only the cracked, dried blood stains remained as evidence for something happening to him.
Castiel didn't acknowledge him, but Dean did, his eyes flickering over to Crowley and back. "I should have known...You're with him. Is this your choice then, angel? To side with Dante's rejected animal over me?"
"Castiel, we need to leave. We need to leave, now," said Crowley imploringly. There were several scrolls that he had pulled from the shelves and placed inside his inner jacket pockets that Castiel could see when he glanced in the demon's direction.
But Castiel did not wane his gaze from Dean long. He stepped through the barrier, right in the face of the angry demon. It was brave, but at this moment, he knew his power level was on par with Dean's, just as Crowley had predicted. A demon and angel. The natural enemies of Heaven and Hell.
"MY choice?" Castiel repeated in a growl. He pulled Dean close to him through handfuls of his tank top, so that their faces were inches apart. The demon had always been taller, but Castiel felt like he towered over him. "No. I rebelled for this? For you? I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me?"
"Castiel! We have to go!" Crowley shouted.
Castiel dropped the demon, let him fall back on the upturned throne. Dean stumbled just as Castiel turned away.
And caught sight of what Crowley was doing. He had drawn out a pistol, and maybe at first sight it looked like the human weapons, but Castiel could smell the faint smell of the stigmatus plant in powder form inside of the magazine.
"Crowley! What are you doing?!"
"Sorry, Your Majesty...But you need this done to you," said Crowley slowly, clicking the hammer back.
"NO! DON'T! I don't want you to hurt him!" Castiel shouted.
"Old habits and the like," Crowley raised his head and pulled trigger at last.
It was like slow motion. Castiel watched the bullet leave the pistol with a tiny stream of fire behind it. His eyes narrowed as it went straight for Dean, who was on his knees. He looked up, his eyes wide as the bullet cascaded through the barrier as if it didn't exist straight between Dean's eyes.
Castiel struck like a cobra, striking the air and cleaving the bullet in half, but not before it's contents exploded like a massive black cloud and burst in Dean's face. The demon buckled in agony, clutching his face but not before Castiel and Crowley caught a glimpse of the red boils that began to appear on his face which he quickly tried to cover.
"Dean!" Castiel called, reaching for him.
"No time, Castiel! Come on!" Crowley shouted, turning for the door. "It's clear! Come on!"
"Dean...," Castiel murmured, kneeling down just as Dean collapsed to his knees in pain. "I'm sorry."
"No...You're not...," Dean growled, glaring at Castiel with promise from between his fingers. "...Not yet. Not...yet...but you will be."
Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but Crowley called him again, this time with the threat and promise of leaving him behind. Castiel rose and followed, sprinting after Crowley.
In the rush to catch up to him, Castiel, felt his fury inside reach boiling point. "You shot him! How could you?!"
"And he tortured me! All's fair in love and war, Celestial! You should know that better than anyone!"
"We can't just leave him like this!"
"Sure we can! I took out an insurance policy too!" said Crowley smugly. He raised his hand mid-run and snapped his fingers once. There was a sound like a bang as Castiel glanced up and saw a pillar begin to crack and splinter from the ceiling.
"What the...? What are you doing?!"
"Fireburst spell! It'll collapse the whole castle! Come on!" Crowley yelled back, grabbing a hold of Castiel's arm. As soon as they cleared the entrance hall and made it outside, Crowley made the jump just as another series of explosions came from behind them.
Castiel felt fire lick the back of his legs and almost sear through his armor but they jumped just in time to hit the ground on their front, rolling down the stone steps just as the castle begin to as expected, collapse. The ceiling, the roof, the pillars that held the throne room in tact began to falter and plummet. Castiel could only imagine it all. Could only imagine Dean crushed beneath it all and the thought scared him.
"It's going to kill him!" Castiel said, getting up and making for the entrance.
Crowley grabbed his arm. "He's not dead! This is just buying us some time, Castiel, let's go!"
And he dragged him this time, the echoing sounds of the castle collapsing following them all the way into the caves where Crowley led them straight to the dimensional door. The cave halls seemed so much bigger and longer the last time that Castiel had been here, but perhaps without the Imperial guards, there wasn't much stock to them.
The light at the end of the tunnel...Quite literally what they were reaching for it. Castiel looked back one final time before they cleared it and Crowley grabbed him around the chest and pushed him through it until they finally reached the mortal plane above.
The castle was still collapsing.
And yet there was only one life form inside of it that took the brunt of the attack. Hell had been emptied of all the demons that once inhabited it after all, save for the Order of Tarana...which was nothing more than a memory now.
The rubble pile up in the entrance hall was massive, and still growing. No one could have survived that. No one who stayed inside, especially someone injured.
Step. Step. Step.
It was loud, these steps, even over the sound of the hellfire burning everything in sight. The fire, like all fire wrought in Hell, was made from Dean himself, which made it a suitable substance to destroy the castle.
The being knelt before the head of the debris and kept a hand over his raised thigh. He looked down at the rubble, removed a particularly large piece of pillar and pushed it aside to reveal the body underneath.
"My, your Majesty...This has not been a good day for you, has it?" A highly amused voice said from above.
Dean grunted. He found he could still move, albeit very little. The demon felt his injuries too much. His lower body was crushed underneath the rubble and it felt like he had been paralyzed from the waist down. The flesh on his face felt like it had been skinned off completely. He must have looked hideous. Nothing like his old self. He rolled over onto his back and groaned loud when he felt something protrude and stab into his back. His eyes flickered over the figure above him. In the darkness of the castle, it looked like a floating white skull was talking to him.
"Graaaaahhhhh," Dean groaned incoherently. "...M'...hallucinating now..."
"No, I'm real. Very real. Kind of unfortunate for you, isn't it," said the voice.
"Wh..Who're...yoooou...,"
The being raised a gloved hand over his face and pulled from the blackness, removing the mask that covered his face. He looked vaguely familiar to Dean, but the King, still lost in his own pain, couldn't place him just yet. He just saw silver, too much silver that it could resemble a blade.
Dean's eyes cleared from the blur, and he took in stock a man no older than him...on the outside at least, wearing a long grey jacket with matching colored hair. Strange...He seriously felt like he had seen him before, but he couldn't quite place him.
"Blackburn. Virgil Blackburn. It's an honor, Your Majesty," said Virgil from above him. "Not looking too well from your recent affliction, are you...I can take care of the worst of these wounds."
He ran a hand over Dean's face and instantly the mass of blood and boils began to clear up from the Stigma. His eyes flickered over the show of black veins that had almost completely encompassed Dean's face."I've stopped the infection from travelling to your heart...But that...on your face...Well, that, you did to yourself. Can't do anything about that."
"Get off me," Dean growled, reaching up and catching Virgil around the wrist.
"Stop," said Virgil firmly. "I'm here to help you."
"I don't work with Fallen," Dean growled.
"Your former company would argue...but regardless. I'm helping you. You want to live, then you're going to have to trust me,"
"Why," said Dean flatly.
"Because we want the same thing, Your Majesty," said Virgil matter-of-factly.
"What is that," said Dean in that same tone.
Virgil leaned down, close enough so his lips grazed Dean's ear. "The death of Dante Shadowalker."