This'll just be a one-part chapter, as there wasn't a good place to cut it off. Enjoy~!

Perdition

I sit at a bench in a park, having transported myself a few states over. I was told to meet another angel here when I obtained my vessel, to be given my instructions. The night is cool and dry. I never realized that, nor cared to feel the temperature of the air before. Everything is different, even if I am just sitting and looking at my surroundings. In the distance a dog barks, while a few vehicles rumble quietly down the street. Previously, I was nearly omnipotent, able to see all of this and more, like from the eyes of a bird. But now, even though I cannot physically see more, I am aware of more. It is a strange feeling. There is a light noise beside me, followed by a gust of wind.

"Castiel. Took you long enough."

My head swerves, and I see Sabrael. His vessel is a middle-aged Vietnamese man, older than mine, with a neat suit and close-cropped hair. A wide smile, not unkind, is spread brightly across his face, as if it had been permanently fixated on him.

"Name's Sabrael, though I'm sure you were already made aware of that."

I nod.

"Oh, not the talkative one. I see. Well then, let's get to business." Sabrael reaches out with two fingers and taps me on the forehead.

There is a flash, and in my mind's eye I see a young man.

This is Dean Winchester, a voice in my head tells me.

Soundless images, like those in films from long ago, play past my vision. Here, Dean is a young boy, running with his father from a burning building. There Dean, older now, is holding a rifle and discharging it at a spirit. Dean laughing. Dean yelling. Dean exorcising a demon. Then, there is Dean, tears pouring from his eyes as he embraces another man on the ground, who seemed dead to me. Dean drinking. Dean shoving an older man away.

Finally, the last image showed Dean Winchester being thrown onto a table, a Hellhound dragging its claws across his body before pulling his soul away and into…

Hell.

I blink, and I am back in the park as the voice finishes giving me instructions: Save Dean Winchester. Sabrael is watching me, dark brown eyes steadily boring into mine. If any human were to have woken up to that, they would have been more than slightly uncomfortable. However, I paid no mind to it.

"Any questions? Comments? Concerns?" Sabrael grins again, but I can't think of why it he finds it so amusing. I shake my head,

"No, sir."

"Good. Come when I call. Oh, and do keep in mind, this information is highly sensitive and not to be taken lightly."

"I understand."

Sabrael flashes another toothy smile, and in a few wingbeats he is gone again. I am left alone, thinking over the assignment that lay before me and about the man named Dean Winchester.

He was a hunter; I knew that much. Though, I never took any interest in observing that particular class of humans, since most of them were heavily indulgent, especially in copulation and alcohol. From what I saw, Dean wasn't an exception.

I spent the next week or so wandering, adjusting to my new human senses. On feet, I was slower than I expected; but then again, there aren't many things faster than a wavelength of light. I practiced retrieving and maneuvering my angel blade, which was no longer just a sliver of energy, but something corporeal like my body. But it was just as deadly, as I was soon about to find out.

Also, for the first few days Jimmy occasionally surfaced from oblivion, as I was still uncertain of how to suppress his consciousness. I felt his sudden awareness flood behind my vision, followed by a flow of human memories and emotions. He didn't really speak to me, only half-aware of his surroundings, and communicated to me through blurred images before just as suddenly submerging back to his stupor. But I got enough of what he was trying to tell me, because all of the images he revealed were of his wife and daughter.

Then finally, the day came.

"Castiel."

There it was, the call. I straighten up and tune in to it, my wings carrying me to the source of the voice.

I land in a forest clearing and look around, seeing an array of brothers and sisters standing around me, all dressed in neatly ironed suits. I look down and I can't help but feel left out in my overcoat. I don't recognize any of them, and they didn't seem to recognize each other either. They must all be from different Garrisons. We numbered 400 in all…and something else. There was a Reaper here as well, standing casually to the side; but I could see that she was very uncomfortable.

"Perfect, the last one is here!" My attention turns to Sabrael, who is standing in the center of our provisional garrison and grinning at us even though in seconds, we were about to go into battle.

"Brothers and sisters, allow me to introduce you to our wonderful associate, Tessa."

All eyes fall upon the Reaper. We could all see her true form, past the façade she put on. She is well aware of that and shuffles slightly, clearing her throat before saying,

"This'll just be a one-way trip, got it? I won't be coming for stragglers." She mutters something under her breath like, and I never signed up for this, but I don't understand what she meant by it. I have no time to, as Tessa turns and holds out her hand to the ground. Where she points, the ground begins to distort, swirling into a vortex, a bridge between the dimensions. I suddenly feel drawn to it, and it is evident everyone else feels it too.

Then, there is complete and total silence. Oblivion.

I barely have the time to relate this feeling back to the first moments of my existence when I arrive at our destination:

Hell. The Underworld. Hades. Perdition.

Memories from thousands of years past, the last time we had laid siege to this place, threaten to crumble down on me. The blood, the utter terror, the cries of agony, the chaos... Now, though, something was different. It felt much, much more evil, and I could sense it like a solid presence among us.

We were in an upper layer of Hell. It was quieter here, though we could still hear the muffled screams from down below. Somewhere, in the lower regions of this pit, was our objective, Dean Winchester. I turn to Sabrael for instructions. The smile is now wiped clean from his face, as if he left it back on Earth. He opens his mouth, momentarily at loss for words, before finally saying,

"We'll work our way down. Don't hesitate to use your blades against those who block our way."

In a second, all our blades are in our hands. I don't know how long we fought, or how many lives were lost. Like in Heaven, time is distorted, filled with unexpected bends and sharp turns. Years in Hell can easily be weeks or months on Earth.

We pushed on through the corpses of the demons we killed, only to be met by yet more on the other side. There had never been this many demons before, and they amassed like rats in the sewage. They overpowered us with their sheer numbers, taking the blades from our fallen brethren and using it against us. Breathing was nearly impossible, even though angels technically don't need to breathe, the bodies of both the dead and the living pressing onto me from all sides. It didn't help, either, that the tortured souls within the dungeon cells would often reach out to us and claw at us if we got too close, flinging unintelligible curses and whatever objects they could find at our way.

At last, we made it. I could sense his soul here, on this level. More than half the garrison had perished, and we all glanced at each other with wary eyes. This Dean Winchester must have been special, chosen, righteous, for Father to have commanded 400 angels to go down into Hell to raise him. And we were about to meet him.

Just then, the ground beneath our feet shook. There was a scream from behind me as a great burst of light filled the entire corridor. When it faded, I was alone…No, Sabrael was here, his body sprawled on top of mine. I realized that I was on the ground. It took me a moment for my dazed mind to connect the pieces: Someone had very cleverly hidden and activated an extremely powerful sigil. I was only protected because Sabrael had fallen on me. A glance told me that he was alive, but barely, his breaths ragged. His vessel was destroyed, the bones in his lower body all twisted askew. But who had-?

"Oh, hm, looks like we have our winner!" A voice sang out, and a shudder of horror passed through me. Hands behind me roughly pulled me upright, and I had only a second to look around me. But it was enough.

All the angels around us were dead.

"Come, now, it's all collateral damage," I turn to the chilling voice, the demons holding my arms tightening their grip. If I didn't feel so fatigued, I would have been able to toss them off easily.

"Alastair. What have you done? Where is he?"

He doesn't seem surprised that I knew his name. His dead eyes stare back into mine, soulless pits in a disfigured face.

"Something I learned from an… old friend of your buddies upstairs. It really took me a while to make, though. Very special ingredients involved." He takes his hand away from the still-glowing sigil, wiggling his fingers at me. Angel's blood is smeared over them, and I fight back the urge to recoil in revulsion.

"Oh, and do you mean him?" Alastair smiles coldly and steps aside.

There is Dean Winchester. It's him, I keep telling myself, it's him; but the other half of me resists, denying that this…this abomination before me is the man whom we had been fighting and dying for.

Dean didn't even seem to notice us. He was hunched over, a wickedly curved blade in one hand, and he was… I can't go on. What is done in Hell stays in Hell. This wasn't the Dean I know now.

Alastair is suddenly right beside me. He sighs, something of a wistful look passing through his twisted features,

"Ah, kid's these days. They just grow up so fast."

I don't reply. I am nearly at full power now, and I will make Alastair will pay for what he did. But Alastair also knew, and he quickly steps away,

"But, like all kids, they must leave home one day or another," he snaps his fingers, and the two demons hastily release me, "I'll make you a one-time deal. I give you Dean Winchester, and you leave your feathery little pal over there with us."

I glance back down. Sabrael's Grace was fading fast. He looked up at me, terror in his eyes, but nods and manages a weak smile. I could still do it. I could save them both-

"We'll take good care of him, oh, I promise. You needn't worry at all. So go on, angel, take the Winchester. He's all yours!" Alastair is laughing now, as if he had already won. The two demons are at Sabrael's side now, like hyenas hovering over a kill. I open my mouth, to say no, to say anything to stall for time, but something in me clicks.

I serve Heaven. I can't allow myself to mourn over the life of one angel. My duty to God comes first; not Sabrael.

"I choose Dean Winchester." The words are out of my mouth before I realize it; but it's too late. In that instant, all four of them- Alastair, Sabrael, the two demons- are gone, Alastair's laughter echoing behind. I am left alone with Dean, so intent on inflicting torture on the soul laid before him that he still has not realized what was happening.

Now, some of you may think that when I first began to interact with Dean, I was…unkind to him, to say the least. But I had my reasons, especially after what I witnessed on this day. It wasn't exactly a good first impression.

I take him by the arm; not gently, but roughly, my hand searing into his impure skin. Everything about him was unclean, and it burned from my touch. It did not matter. Dean let out a cry, like one who has been jarred awake.

"What the hell-!"

I waste no time. My wings flare open, hands tightly gripping his arm as I lift the two of us upwards from Perdition.

Ahhh I think I just introduced and killed off an angel OC in one chapter. Wow. :'D But don't worry...He'll be back...

Please review! I really love them.