The first thing Dean noticed was the lightening. It flashed in angry streaks in random patterns seemingly coming from no place at all. Then there were the fires, spreading out and fanning through scores of screaming crowds of flesh. The sound was both intoxicating and terrifying, and it gave Dean chills.
Cas held him, but it was only a small consolation as their destination came closer and closer into view. When they were just miles above, Dean smelled the stench of Hell, bringing back memories to his mind. He glanced at his arm, noticing his scar. Dean's sleeve had fallen over it again, but he could see the imprint shining through the fabric, glowing brighter and brighter as they got closer to hell.
But Dean couldn't question it. Instead, in a dramatic entrance, the two men careened toward a lake of fire.
I wish you'd never saved me, Dean thought, as he approached the inferno looking at Cas's innocent face, streaked with orange light, you don't deserve this.
But when they landed, the fire waved innocently through their bodies as if it were a hologram. And Dean breathed. Another memory, he thought, sighing. He should have known. The two men walked from the fire like a biblical miracle, and Dean explored his memory. Dark, burning flesh surrounded them, the misery of souls almost tangible. As he tasted the gritty air in his mouth and felt the crunch of ash and silt beneath them, he had to remind himself it wasn't real.
Because it felt very real. And Dean realized he had been holding his breath. I'm not really here, he reminded himself. But even still, the darkness clung to him as if he'd never left.
"Why are we here, Cas?" Dean asked, his voice breathless.
But Cas didn't answer back. Instead, he looked around questioningly at their surroundings, brows furrowed, as if gathering clues or data.
Dean stopped. Suddenly he couldn't walk. Of course they ended up back here, he thought bitterly. An angel and a demon engaging in a relationship. It's every religion's worst nightmare.
He tugged at his shirt collar as if it were the cause of his lack of oxygen, noting briefly how brightly his hand print shone in the dark of Hell. Why here? he thought, questioning Cas's grace as if it could speak to him.
But then he felt Cas's warm hand grab his, squeezing it reassuringly, and Dean felt a sense of Calm resonate between them.
And Dean used Cas's touch to ground him. Maybe this was always meant to be, Dean thought, acknowledging how right it felt to have Cas's presence as he faced his demons. He is light and I am dark. I am the righteous man and he is the fallen angel. And now we are both Gods.
And together they walked through Hell, Dean bracing himself to face his biggest challenge of all;
In front of him was a Dark, monstrous creature slicing into another soul with a frenzied look on his face. In front of him was a man who had fallen, and had yet to be saved by his angel.