Hello again. So, chapter 2, even though I didn't get any reviews. Too bad. Well, if anybody is actually reading this, thanks. I know that a lot of people are attracted to the slash fics and whatnot, but who knows? Maybe this could be one eventually. The world may never know.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

"Little brother, I have grave news. The rumors are true. Lilith and her hounds have dragged the Righteous Man to Hell." Raphael stood at attention, watching Castiel closely as he awaited an answer.

"So it is true," Castiel sighed. "They are planning to begin the End, starting with Dean Winchester."

"As he breaks, so shall it break," Raphael reminded his brother.

Castiel glared at the archangel. "I understand that. Now assemble an attack party. We must rescue the Righteous Man before Alastair breaks him and his spirit." Raphael nodded curtly and then disappeared into the upper reaches of Heaven, sounding the trumpets of war. Meanwhile, Castiel stood quietly in the lowest level of Heaven, observing Earth through the hole left by Lucifer's Fall. Though the tragedy had occurred years ago, the wounds it had left on Heaven had not yet healed. A trace of a chuckle whispered across Castiel's mind for a moment, accompanied by the tainted feel of Lucifer's contact. Though the purer angel tried to ignore his older brother's intrusion, he was helpless to stop it.

So, a descent into my dominion, little Castiel? Brave of you, but being touched by Hell is the first step towards becoming like me.

Castiel shoved Lucifer out of his mind as he heard the approach of three other angels. He turned from the hole in Heaven and faced his brothers and sister. Balthazar, Rachel, and Zachariah were all standing at attention, though it seemed that Balthazar was slouching a bit. "My family," Castiel began, "this is the beginning of our darkest hour. The Apocalypse, the end of our Father's glorious work, hangs in the balance. This mission may determine Earth's fate." With that, Castiel and his family spread their magnificent wings and shot down to Earth in a blaze of light.

From the coast of New Jersey, a six-year-old girl watched as four shooting stars came down from the sky and plunged into the ocean with an explosion of light and fire. "Pretty," she giggled. "Pretty stars from Heaven."

And the four angels hacked their way through hordes of demons, making their way down to the lower levels of Perdition. The fires of Hell were not strong yet; were just sparks flying in their periphery. But as Balthazar, Rachel, Zachariah, and Castiel arrived at the edge of a cliff, they saw an inferno of fire, torture, and fear roaring up at them. They could hear cries for help, but there was one in particular that was important because they didn't hear it.

Dean Winchester was not being tortured.

"Come on," Castiel growled, and he spread his glorious gold and silver wings to their fullest extent before plunging deeper into Hell than any angel had gone before. But Castiel was alone. He looked back and saw the hazy figures of his siblings through the heat from the flames. They were standing there, not even bothering to risk themselves to save the world.

So Castiel descended alone.

As he weaved his way through gauntlets of flame, he felt the feathers that made up his wings sear and scorch. Their luster was destroyed as the fire and smoke blackened the golds and dulled the silvers into pitch. The oily sheen melted into tar that seemed to envelop Castiel's wings, right down to the bones. But the angel gritted his teeth and carried on.

He arrived at one of the deepest layers of Hell. He saw Dean Winchester cutting and slashing grimly at a doomed soul, and his handsome face was twisted into a mixture of glee and regret. This was the Righteous Man, but he had been broken. Castiel was too late.

But he reached out his hand and grasped Dean's shoulder, yanking the man's soul from Perdition. He began the long, perilous, burning flight upwards through the flames, holding tightly to the soul's arm. He passed his siblings, but ignored them as he pinpointed the spot on Earth where Dean Winchester's body lay. He flapped his wings mightily, reaching the grave in a single swoop. He healed the hunter's broken body before forcefully shoving the soul of Dean Winchester back into its home.

The resulting explosion shook the grave site, and Castiel smiled as he felt a thousand trees fall around the point of impact. For a moment, he observed the Righteous Man as his body began to stir to life, then took flight, preparing for when he would contact the human.

When he arrived back in Heaven, he was greeted warmly as a hero. But then Raphael pointed his long, brown finger at his brother. "Your wings," he said. "What happened to your wings?"

Reluctantly, Castiel spread his wings, ignoring the gasps that rang out at the sight of the blackness. Even the angel himself had to look backwards, and his burning Grace cried out at the sight. His wings, which had been some of the most beautiful and the most youthful in all of Heaven, were now pitch black, the color of smoke and death and Fallen angels. He turned away from the stares and fearful awe, descending to his regular spot next to the gap in Heaven.

I told you, Lucifer whispered gleefully. I told you.

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