Rushing out the door after Dean, Castiel's mind whirled. Every part of him screamed that demons were not to be trusted, but this was Dean. Dean who saved the world several times over.

But what if it wasn't Dean anymore?

Besides, he was new, the first of his kind, green eyed. And what kind of demon retained their original human form? Cas vowed to keep a close eye on him.

"That's not Leviathan," remarked the demon. The young woman who had been screaming stood on the sidewalk, staring at a minor car crash. Dean rolled his eyes at Cas.

"Then where is the Leviathan?"

"I dunno. Wait, this is C.M.U.? That means... Hey, look! That's the building where they filmed the scene in The Dark Knight Rises where Bane is yelling at the crowd..." He was rambling, pointing at a large Grecian-inspired building.

"Dean. I have no idea what you're talking about." Upon seeing that there were no major injuries, Cas began to walk in the opposite direction of the 'Dark Knight' building. He walked until he came to a large field that someone had placed in the center of the city, beneath the skyscrapers that fought for dominance on the sky. Dean followed, clearly not willing to lose track of his old angel friend.

"Cas. Sit down." He motioned to a bench near a plaque. "Look at that. Historical landmark, 2109... Battle of... I can't pronounce that..."

"I need to leave."

"What? Why?" Dean turned and stared at Cas, who took a deep, pained breath.

"You're a demon."

"I'm still Dean." Had he been a human, Dean would have been on the verge of tears.

"No." Castiel knew that associating with demons never turned out well. He stood up, ready to fly back to his grotto.

"Wait- Cas, please, wait, it's still me, I can prove it-" Dean stammered.

"Prove? How can you prove that? Your soul is mangled."

"Come with me." Dean held out his hand. Castiel regarded it, trying to gauge the situation, but Dean was hard to read. "I'll show you."

"Show me what?"

"Hell. My Hell."

"So many," whispered Cas as the pair made their way through the twisting tunnels and corridors of cells.

"We're almost here." Dean led Cas into a cell where an old man eyed them warily. "Hello, Andy," he said to the man, who raised a scarred hand in mock salute.

"Cheers, mate," he said. Castiel was confused.

"Dean, how-" Dean waved his hand behind him, signaling Cas to be quiet. Andy gave him a you'd-better-listen look.

"Blood, please," Dean said. Cas watched, dumbfounded, as the old man slid a razor down his wrist. Blood flowed into a dirty bowl and he handed it to Dean, who spread a symbol on the wall, placing his hand over it and chanting in a language that sounded vaguely like Croatian. Suddenly, the room was washed with red light, light that made Castiel's head ache and throat burn. Dean and the prisoner, now huddled in the corner, were unaffected. Dean took Castiel's hand, but he was in too much pain to protest, and he felt himself being ushered through the portal. Suddenly the red light was gone, and they stood in another corridor. But this one was different. It looked more like a hall in an upscale hotel than anything.

"Dean, what is this?" As Dean began to walk down the corridor, the candles flickered and glowed brightly when he passed, creating an aura around him as he passed. It was clear that he was in charge of this place.

"I call it the Waiting Rooms," the demon replied. Cas looked more closely at the doors. The first was marked twenty-three. "These are the souls I'm rescuing."

"Rescuing?"

"Ah, Number Twenty-Three. A personal favorite of mine. Come meet Ariana." Dean placed his hand on the door, chanting more in the odd language. The silver numerals glowed and the door dissolved.

Inside, a young woman dressed in an elaborate evening gown lay on a bed, watching a movie. "Dean. Any news?" She scrambled out of bed upon their entrance, and the room began to light up in Dean's presence.

"Ariana, Castiel. Castiel is an angel of the Lord."

"An angel?" Ariana's eyes widened.

"Dean-" Cas pulled the demon away and whispered furiously in his ear. "What in God's name are we doing here?"

"He's saving me," Ariana stated simply.

"Ariana gave birth to a weak little boy in the eighteenth century. He was dying, so she sold her soul to keep him alive. The kid survived, and she's got descendants in Canada."

"But why is she here? Does Crowley know about this?" The young woman flinched at Crowley's name.

"These are souls I hand picked for salvation." Dean smiled. Castiel was beginning to understand. "The ones that are here out of selflessness. I smuggle them up when I can, and I release them to Heaven so that they can be reunited with their loved ones. Would an I do that if I was evil?"

"No," sighed Cas. "But Crowley-"

"-Is still in charge. But I can control the lesser demons, and he hasn't found anything out yet. Ariana's been here three years, because Crowley doesn't trust me enough to give me complete freedom, so I have to plan each one very carefully." Dean reached out and took one of Ariana's hand in his, kissing it respectfully. "It isn't easy, and it requires help from humans and angels."

"Angels?"

"I was working with one named Elzbeth until she was killed by one of Crowley's henchmen." Dean closed his eyes, obviously still pained at the memory. He sat on the bed, and Ariana sat down at his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"It couldn't be helped," she murmured. "Elzbeth saved twenty-two before her death."

"Cas, I need your help." Dean's human-green eyes met Castiel's. "I need an angel."

"I can't, Dean, it's too dangerous." Dean's face fell, and Ariana choked back a sob.

"Please," he whispered.

"But I am going to help you seize the metaphorical throne so you can rule this place. Then we can save as many souls as we want."