The First Circle of Hell.
Muffled screams of damned souls echoes through the walls of the passage. They bounce of the dark granite walls, grating the walls of Dean's mind. He would imagine himself, dark and broken and twisted with his soul shifting into black smoke, from tortured to torturer.
The sounds of the souls bleeding and begging and darkening is overwhelming. Dean clutches his knife as a lifeline. Castiel notices, and he reaches for Dean, taking his hand into his own and squeezes for reassurance. Dean pushes his hand away.
"I don't need you to hold my hand," He growls at the curious looks the Demon casts at them. Castiel winces and hangs back, joining Balthazar in the back instead. Dean looks away. The path to hell is suffocating. The black walls glows a dim orange-red.
Coagulated blood collects on the jagged ground, staining all around them. The air stenches of sulfur and Demons. Belial leads the way, tense, glancing from side to side. They reach the bottom of the path. A large cavern, stalactites made of molten glass drips onto the bottomless pit in the center of the cavern. The black leads on endlessly, almost daring them to jump in. There is no sunlight here, yet light dances of the glass crystals by the sides of the walls. The pathway they came in from disappears. Dean jumps, agitated.
"What the hell is that?!" He points at the missing entrance.
"Can't let them find out." The Demon shrugs. Castiel has his hand on his throat.
"Hey!" Balthazar shouts, grabbing Castiel by his arm as Dean pulls his knife out. The tension rises in the confined space.
"Let him go, Cassie." Balthazar tightens his grip.
"Is this a trap?" Castiel growls. Footsteps could be heard from above.
"Guards!" Belial chokes out, shoving the Angel away from him.
"What guards?" Dean asks, alert. The hissing sounds from above the cavern. Demons, he realized. In their smoke form. The sounds grew louder, closer. The oppressive heat and closeness of the walls did not help.
"They guard the pathways. We've been trying to avoid them for the better part of an hour now." Belial hisses.
"Now follow me, you imbeciles!" The Demon tells them and jumps into the pit, pulling Balthazar with him. Castiel leaps after his brother and Dean had no choice but to follow them. Damn demons and crazy angels. This fall is far longer than the previous one. If he ever falls through a black hole, Dean thinks that this'll be it. The black sucks the light out of him, and he could make out dim pinpricks of light in front of him.
Castiel, Balthazar. Fitting that Belial don't let out any light here. Voices swarmed out at him from the dark, crying save me, save me, save me. Laughter, too. High and inhuman and rotten. Azazel, Azazel, Azazel, the voices cried out, yellow eyes blinking at him from the dark. Dean almost reaches out, losing himself to the infinite blackness when Castiel appears again, fingers on the handprint as he pulls Dean, this time downwards. They were falling, falling.
The black rushes past him. It could be a second, or forever. Dean, save me! The voices calls out. They sounded like Sammy, but Sam is not here. Sam is somewhere far worse. He drops to the ground, and Castiel catches him.
"Thanks," Dean says.
The Demon is bleeding from his mouth, and the other Angel fusses over him. Castiel looks towards them, the look on his face indecipherable.
"Angel and Demon." Dean comments loudly. "Like something out of a bad romance novel." Balthazar sticks out his middle finger towards Dean. Belial leans against him.
The Second Circle of Hell.
It's fucking cold in here, Dean thinks. And by the looks of Castiel and Balthazar's frosted breath they are even more affected than he is. The Demon is the only one unaffected by the cold. Lucky bastard.
The pathway is wider, here. The ground is black like the sky. Their footsteps carries no noise at all. The cold is draining, eating away at his skin and soaking into his muscle. Eyeless imprints, echoes of lost souls wanders through them. Tall, twisted, screaming trees. Metallic by the looks of them. No leaves, but the branches reach up, up, up towards to black sky they fell from.
It's a damn miracle they did not get impaled by one of these. There is a river here. A vast, running river. It came from nowhere and it runs to nowhere. Where is nowhere? The river is made of what looks like molten glass. Later, Balthazar tells them that it is a river of tears and desire. Weird.
Small blue lights clung to the dirty air, and to their skin. Wrong. They stick to Dean and Belial, and avoids the angels. Castiel looks at Balthazar's arm, where the Demon's mark is. The lights hangs around his arm. Castiel averts his gaze. Dean looks to Castiel, tense and uncomfortable. An Angel, so out of place in Hell. Castiel fought through Hell to get to him, Dean realizes. Castiel fought through Hell to get to him. Dean feels strangely proud of his Angel. His. Where did that thought come from.
"Cas?" He asks. "You okay?" Castiel nods, terse and sharp. Dean pats his back, letting his hand linger on his shoulder before Cas shrugs him away. Dean pats his back again. His fingers tingle.
The trees twist and scream up to the sky. The sky is not a sky. It's like a coffin that stretches from the beginning of time to the end of times. They just stopped the end of times. The river hisses and runs. The water is not water, but the thirst in his throat went from unnoticeable to scorching. It glistened, beckoning, and Dean stops walking, and steps closer. Everything slows down. He is dimly aware that he is the only one affected, as his travel companions stops and turns to look at him.
He wants to sleep. He is so tired. Dean deserves a break. He deserves happiness. It can give him happiness.
"Dean?" Castiel asks. His voice is far off, airy. Like it came from the back of his mind instead of right beside him. The very air above the waters shimmers. The back of Dean's head feels heavy. Water would be good, so good right now. He needs water. Not just any water. Water from the river. He walks closer.
"Dean!" Castiel's voice is loud, so loud. Dean spins around, away from the river. Cas's eyes are blue, so blue. Dean licks his lips. He wants to kiss Cas. Ain't that something?
"Shit." He hears Balthazar mutter somewhere from the background.
Dean kisses Castiel like he is air, need, like if he doesn't kiss him he would die- dragging them both into the river. Castiel tasted like desire, like joy. His big, blue eyes opens wide in surprise. They fall together.