Chapter 25

Dean brought the dagger up, his arm set to bring the blade down into her throat, when Bethany sidestepped the attack with a disapproving tsk. Moving closer to him, she wrapped her small hand around his wrist, gently pushing the knife aside.

"It's dark here," she murmured in his ear. "I want to see you before you…" She let the sentence fall incomplete as she looked at him pleadingly. Dean would kill her, she had no doubt of that now and in a way it was fitting that he'd be the one to end her unnatural existence.

"Not much I can do about that, unless you want to go back in." The hunter motioned to the dim shaft of light that showed the entry way behind them. He pulled free from her grasp, a faint sneer on his lips.

"No. There's another room where we won't be interrupted." Bethany spoke hesitantly as she dropped her hand to her side, feeling his rejection as if he had physically slapped her.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean contemplated her offer for a few seconds before finally nodding. "Okay. But if you try anything." He snorted, it was kind of pointless to threaten the life of someone - scratch that - something you were going to kill anyway.

"I mean it, Beth. No tricks," he growled, lowering the weapon. He was confused and surprised by his willingness to accompany her to a room farther away from his brother and the angel. There had to be something wrong with him. His mind screamed at him to just kill the bitch and be done with it, yet he didn't. Instead the hunter was agreeing with her plans, following her to God knew where.

Yes, something was seriously wrong with him. Maybe Sam had the demon blood which was forced on him at a tender age, but Dean was starting to wonder who had the demon heart.

Sensing the man's self doubt, Bethany let her lips curve into a smile. Her Dean was still in there. Maybe - if she played her cards right - she could reach him. She slid her hand into his empty one, not looking at the hated knife in his other hand. "Come on then," she urged with a gentle tug.

Flinching at her touch more so than from the brief protest of his injured shoulder, Dean almost pulled away; but figuring it was better to keep her close, he allowed their hands to remain entwined. "This had better not be some ruse to try to save yourself."

They moved through the passageways silently, each too lost in their own thoughts to attempt small talk.

---

"He's been gone a long time," Sam pointed out. Castiel had moved him so he could sit with his back propped against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "If you aren't going after him, I am."

Since Dean had left the small room, Sam had railed at the angel, trying to get him to follow Dean and the demon he was hunting, all the while being assaulted by waves of excruciating pain. Each bout seemed to be further apart and lasting shorter periods. It had been several minutes since the last attack and the young hunter felt he was capable of getting to his feet without retching.

Standing near the entry, the angel listened for any sounds that would alert him to his charge being in danger. From the time he took his post ten minutes earlier he hadn't heard anything, not so much as the scuff of a boot on the hard packed dirt. The silence was disconcerting.

Not getting a reaction from the ethereal being, Sam seethed. "Damn it Cas I mean it! You have to…"

"We will wait," Castiel cut him off mid-rant. "He is stronger than you give him credit for." He had already decided that he would only wait a few more minutes then go after Dean. Castiel knew the green-eyed hunter was headstrong and would take any attempt of a rescue from himself or Sam as an affront to his abilities and state of mind.

"The hell I will," the younger Winchester grunted, pushing himself to stand. As soon as his feet took his weight, several blisters burst, sending white hot pain through his lower extremities. Sam bit down on his lip, trapping the cry of agony inside.

Moving quickly from his station, Castiel was at Sam's side in seconds. He couldn't allow the younger man to injure himself further; it would only incite Dean's anger and distrust. Another battle of wills with the elder Winchester was not something the celestial being was looking forward to.

"Samuel," Castiel admonished as he slipped an arm around the waist of the taller man, seeking to take some of the burden off Sam's injured feet. "You are not capable of walking."

"Screw you!" Sam shouted, pushing the angel's arm away forcefully. "I walked here to find Dean and I'll damn well walk out there to find him again. With or without you."

Dean said she will not harm him," Castiel reminded the young man, looking him over in concern. Sam's skin had felt cold to the touch and Castiel realized that the boy was very underdressed for the environment. The human body could withstand a lot, but the combination of the torture, qeres and cool temperatures were obviously taking their toll on the younger Winchester. Shrugging out of his trench coat, he draped it over the hunter's shoulders.

Scowling at the angel's belated attempt at humanity, Sam slipped his arms into the coat before he spoke. "Are you sure of that, Castiel? Are you sure she wouldn't turn on him at the first opportunity? She's a demon."

----

The stench clogged his senses, a mixture of sulphur, fermenting blood and decaying flesh. Flames leapt from various areas throughout the room, throwing huge cavorting shadows on the rocks behind him. Turning, he scanned the area, his sword held tightly in his hand. A change in the air caused him to pull back and he flinched as the spiked ball of a flail whipped past his him, embedding itself in the stone where his head had been seconds before.

Rotating the sword expertly, the angel brought it up ready for the next attack as his gaze fixed on the demon before him. The creature towered over him by at least two feet, his obsidian eyes reflecting the dancing flames as he looked down at his prey. A sneer formed on the dark being's face; the motion causing pustule pockets to burst open, seeping foul smelling fluid onto the craggy features. The stench of death and desolation rolled off him in waves. Releasing a guttural howl, the demon-guardian of the gates pulled the ball from the wall allowing the daunting weapon to swing from its rod as he grinned challengingly at the angel.

As the beast drew closer, Castiel forced himself not to retch and swung his sword in a wide arc, slashing effortlessly through the vile-smelling being. The angel stepped back as his foe fell to the uneven surface, its life fluids spilling onto the floor in a murky rush. Careful to keep his sandaled feet from the filth, he moved away from the fallen enemy to search for his comrades.

As he scanned the area around him, his gaze landed on the pitiful beings immersed in the thick mire of a bubbling black ooze. Worms fed on the flesh of the hapless souls as snakes swam along the surface, circling them hungrily.

Castiel regarded the pit of Desolation in disgust as he weaved past hell's prisoners. He had lost track of how long they had been here fighting through the ranks of demons but still not reaching their destination. For each victory and advance there was retaliation and lost ground.

Sounds of clashing metal and cries of the fallen reverberated off the walls, filling him with apprehension. Turning in the direction he had just come from, God's soldier felt his heart lurch as he watched one of his brothers fall under the onslaught. The demons were numerous, confident and sure of their weapons as they circled the members of the garrison that had entered last. Castiel shifted his gaze swiftly when he heard a familiar cry, bringing his sword up in a defensive stance.

"Phaleg!" he called rushing to his brother's aid.

Phaleg was on his knees in the rancid refuse of the battle, his weapon nowhere to be seen. The demon looming above the downed angel grinned maliciously as he raised his scythe sword to strike. Pushing through the melee, Castiel blocked the attack, nearly being driven to his own knees by the force of the blow.

"Phaleg, get your sword and go," Castiel ordered, his intense glare never leaving his adversary. He could feel the hot breath from every direction and the angel quickly looked around to find he was surrounded.

Tightening his grip on his sword, he squared his shoulders. "Father, give me strength," he prayed as he raised his weapon. With swift movements he sliced through the putrid mass to his right, barely acknowledging the demon's fall before turning to the others. For each beast of hell he slayed another was waiting to take its place.

He heard a grunt of pain from behind and shot a glance over his shoulder to see the demon that had crept up behind him fall to the ground as Uriel thrust his sword deeper into the being. He nodded to his brother before turning to confront the creatures as Uriel moved to stand behind him. Back to back, the angels eyed their prey.

"Phaleg?" Castiel asked of the brother he had rescued.

"He is with Af and Kezef," Uriel replied briskly. Raising his sword, he levelled his menacing glare at the demons. "You want to play, you diseased spawn? Let's play."

Everything exploded at once. Castiel wasn't even sure who had landed the first blow but he soon found himself in hand to hand combat as his weapon was torn from his grip. The dark beings came at him, their grey teeth gnashing at the air around his neck and face and from the sounds at his back, he knew Uriel was faring no better.

"Need some assistance, brothers?" Zophiel's voice broke through the battle cries, sounding almost jovial. The great archangel swung his sword from side to side, his sapphire eyes twinkling as he mowed through the multitudes of demons around his companions. Coming to a stop at his brother's side, Zophiel looked at them, a smile spreading across his face. "Just like the old days, is it not, Uriel?"

Castiel was both awed and repulsed that battle and death always brought out the best in Zophiel. He was a true warrior, living for the fight. It was obviously that very reason Michael favoured him to fight at his side.

Snorting, Uriel raised his sword, driving it through yet another of the monstrosities. "Is there ever an end to these stains?"

"Take heart, dear brother. Soon our mission will be complete and we can leave this blasphemous slime pit." Zophiel lunged forward as another demon made to attack, thrusting his sword through its midsection…

The trio of angels all turned their heads as a cry rang out, despair on their faces as they watched their brother go down.

"Phaleg," Castiel uttered. The sound of his falling sibling urged him on and with renewed energy he fought his way through the fray trying to get to Phaleg. He could already see that the light was fading from Phaleg's eyes as he reached him. "Rest now." Castiel grasped the dying angel's arm, vowing to avenge his death.

"Castiel," Phaleg spoke weakly, clutching the proffered limb. "My charge, he is obtuse - a doubter. He is now yours."

"Phaleg, I am a warrior not a guardian," Castiel countered, not wanting this obstinate human to become his burden.

"Castiel just go!" Zophiel commanded over the din.

Straightening, Castiel cast one last sorrowful glance at his friend then he let his anger guide him through the throngs of demons, slashing anything that got in the way.

As he neared the center of the pit, he slowed his pace, staying close to the walls and in the shadows, hoping not to be seen. His target would still have light in his soul, that was how he would find him. It was imperative Dean Winchester be rescued from the bowels of hell; he only hoped the man was worth the death of his brothers. Turning a corner he could see a dim light in the distance and he approached cautiously.

Castiel saw the woman first, hovering over the prone soul almost possessively, and he hefted his sword, ready for the fight.

She raised her head, gentle amber eyes widening. "Who the fuck are you?" she demanded reaching for a dagger on the stand.

"I am Castiel. I am an angel…" Before he completed the sentence he felt the blade pierce him. Looking down, he found she had thrown the knife with tremendous accuracy and it was now protruding from his abdomen. The angel wrapped his hand around the handle, pulling out the offending weapon and dropping it to the floor.

Annoyed by yet another obstacle in his mission, he advanced on the being, pausing momentarily as he got a better view of her. She stood with her back to the table, obviously trying to protect the being sleeping behind her. But what caught his interest was her essence. Although it didn't glow, it wasn't the black of the demons. Castiel realized that she was on her way to becoming the demon she was meant to be yet seemed to be holding onto some shred of her humanity.

"I have come for Dean Winchester, to return him to his life." He said firmly, hoping she would simply allow him to take the man.

"You can't have him!" she growled, eyeing the angel warily. "He belongs with me." Laughter echoed off the walls outside the small room and her gaze shifted to the entryway as Zophiel and Af came into view.

"Ahh, another little demon bitch to add to the fire," Zophiel chortled as he approached her. "Castiel, get Dean Winchester and leave." He grinned malevolently at the girl as he drew his sword.

Seeing the angel start towards Dean, Bethany screamed in rage, charging the intruder only to be brought to a halt when Zophiel caught her around the midsection and lifted her from the floor.

"No!" She cried struggling in the archangel's iron grip. "He's mine, you can't have him! He's mine!"

"Be silent, you soulless creature," Zophiel seethed. "Stand down and be quiet and I'll let you live."

Bethany stopped moving as she looked into the eyes of the fearsome being. "Screw you!" she spat, raising her head to scream a loud warning to her lover.

Dean jolted awake, sitting up quickly as he took in the situation. "What the hell is going on? Get away from her!"

Moving quickly, Castiel grabbed the man as he attempted to jump from his position. The angel held tightly as he started up, ignoring the demands to be freed by the struggling being in his grip. Within seconds he heard the flap of wings as the remaining members of his garrison joined him in departing the pit, their mission accomplished.

Dean Winchester was saved.

----

"Castiel," Sam barked, pulling the angel from his thoughts. "I asked you a question. Are you sure she won't hurt Dean?"

"No." Castiel looked at the younger hunter. He was not certain at all; the tiny glimmer of light he had seen while in the pit was no longer there. Her humanity was gone.

--

Bethany led Dean into the cavern where she and Sam had been earlier and walked to the altar to light the candles; gripped momentarily by guilt as she recalled what she had used the candles for. She looked up at him, a deep sadness etched on her features.

"Tell me something, Dean," she murmured softly. "In all those years in the pit, did you ever care about me or was I just some piss poor substitute for Sam? Someone you had to save - protect. Was I just something to give you your self worth?"

Drawing closer to the demon, Dean considered her question. His first instinct was to declare outright that she was indeed nothing more than a distraction while in the pit, but deep down he knew it wasn't true. He had cared for her then, when they were the same people, but now they couldn't be anymore different, he was Dean Winchester, a hunter and she was what he hunted.

"It doesn't matter," Dean snapped. "It wouldn't change what I have to do."

"Maybe it matters to me!" Bethany shot back. "Maybe I need to know that there was at least one time that I was loved." She grasped the stone edge of the altar tightly, her knuckles turning white. With a single glance, she knew he didn't love her, that she meant nothing more to him than the souls he had carved into. Possibly less. The man in front of her wasn't her Dean; this Dean regretted the things he had done. Had condemned himself for the choices he had made.

Bethany moved from the altar, locking her gaze on his as she held her arms open. "Just do it."

Dean steeped back, surprised at the vehemence in her voice and the defeat in her eyes. "I'm sorry. If things were different…"

"You'd still kill me, I get it. I'm a demon and you're not, not anymore." she murmured as she shifted her gaze to his shoulder, noting the blood seeping through the material. "You should tend to that."

The hunter turned his own gaze to the injury. Quickly dismissing it; he returned his attention to his prey. He moved closer to her adjusting his grip on the weapon and swallowing against the lump that had lodged in his throat. It was the first time in all his years of hunting that he knew the destruction of the creature he was after would be relatively easy. Physically anyway.

Dean was suddenly taken aback when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. He was alarmed that she had moved so quickly and that he hadn't seen it coming - he wasn't alert to the situation. Had she planned to kill him, he would have been hitting the floor before it registered that she had attacked. Although his lack of professional awareness bothered him, his reaction only disturbed him further when he responded to her embrace, cupping the back of her head as he returned her kiss with a feeling of desperation.

Breaking off the connection, Dean wiped a shaky hand over his moist eyes as he steeped back. "Beth, I have no choice," he said huskily raising the dagger.

----

They could smell the smoke before they saw the lit entrance to the large room. Entering, Sam scanned the area quickly, his gaze stopping on his brother standing near a blazing fire.

"Dean?" Sam spoke softly, attempting to leave the support of the angel at his side to go to his sibling.

The walk through the passageways proved to be easier and far less painful with Castiel's assistance. The younger hunter didn't know if it was the mere presence of the Celestial being or his strength, regardless, the trip had been faster than expected and Sam appreciated the angel's help. But now, he had to be there for his brother - alone.

When Dean didn't answer or turn to face them, hunter's instincts kicked in and Sam once again surveyed the room in search of the demon. His gaze returned to the elder man and the fire in front of him. Taking in the slump of Dean's shoulders and the way his hands hung limply at his side, Sam felt his chest tighten and a lump formed in his throat. He moved cautiously towards his brother, gritting his teeth in pain with each step. Resting his hand on Dean's shoulder he looked down at the still flaming, charcoaled remains he could only assume was Bethany.

"Dean, come on, we're done here," the younger Winchester urged, pulling his brother away from the ebbing blaze. .

"Yeah." Dean turned to face his brother, haunted green eyes looking at anything but Sam's face as he started for the doorway.

Pausing, he looked back at Sam wearily taking in his appearance. If things were different, it would be almost comical to see his sibling, half naked, barefoot and wearing Castiel's trench coat. Any other time. Dean offered a supporting arm to Sam, waiting as Castiel took his post on the other side of the younger man.

"So," Dean said glibly. "Either of you know how the hell we get out of here?"